"Mmh, I dunno about you, but I need food and a stiff drink from the Rail before we get into anything." I press my cheek into the—surprisingly soft—shoulder of Nicky's coat, my fingers curling gently around the crook of his elbow as we waltz on into town on what feels a good bit like cloud nine.

"Uhuh, and those Gob and Nova characters you keep goin' on about have nothing to do with it all, do they?" He arches a thin brow at me, a knowing look in his eye.

I grin up at him, unabashedly. "Ah, you know me all too well, Detective. I do want to see how they're settling in down there. I bullied Charlie into giving them the jobs, after all."

He snorts, shaking his fedora'd pate and eying the alley ahead—or more likely, the truly humongous ghoul guarding it—with a wry smile. "How you managed to 'bully' that particular character into anything, I'd very much like to know. But you do have a bit of a way with machines, I must admit."

I chuckle, ribbing him softly, though I'm absolutely certain I do more damage to my elbow than to him in the process. "It's a skill I'll take to my grave." I note Charon peeling himself off of the wall below the Kill Or Be Killed sign and toss a smile at him as he heads our way.

He dips his head just slightly in greeting. "Shana. He's high, but well. The mission was a success?"

I give him my customary up-nod in return. "Charon. Thank you for looking after him. Yes, it went quite well, I'd say. Better than planned, even." I toss a devious smirk to Nick, before training my eyes on Charon and continuing, "If you'd tell him to sober up and meet us at the Rail, I'd be grateful. Please do make sure he's sober first, before he comes down. I want this to go as smoothly as possible." I pause, waffling for a moment before I allow, "Mentats are alright. He knows what I can stand."

He dips his head. "As you wish. Shall I join you after?"

I consider, lips pursing and tugging to one side as I weigh the options. "If you do, be discrete about it. If not, just enjoy your evening. I doubt we'll actually need anything." I grimace a bit. "I hope."

He graces me with his best deadpan glare, and though most never seem to notice the minute tics that constitute his facial expressions, they're as blatant as his missing skin to me. He folds his arms over his chest, just staring at me until I give in—knowing damn well I will.

I smirk, shrugging. "You know how it is."

"Not in this case," he grumbles.

I snort, wobbling my head with a shrugging nod. "Fair enough. Use your own discretion, then. I leave it to you."

He ponders for a moment, then bobs his ragged dome. "I will join you."

I tip my crown in assent, smirking. "As you wish."

He gives me a decidedly unimpressed look, which hints at a smirk before he turns and enters the Old State House in search of John.

"Well," Nick declares, "that was... something. Is he always this cryptic?"

I curve a curious brow at him. "'Cryptic'? You thought that was cryptic?" I pinch my features in frank concern, drawing a deep breath before I clear them in resolution. "Sounds like we need to get you used to Charon. He's about as cryptic as a ham sandwich, Nicky. Just gotta learn his tells, that's all." I give his arm a light tug, tipping my noggin toward the end of the alley. "C'mon, my tummy's a-rumblin'."

He huffs a slightly disbelieving laugh, shaking his head and walking on, tacitly allowing himself to be led to the Rail. "I don't know what 'tells' you think he has, Shana. His face didn't change for that entire encounter. There was that time he crossed his arms I suppose, but I'm pretty sure that was designed to make him even more off-putting than usual."

I sigh, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and chuckling as we round the corner. I toss a nod and a smile to Berk the ass-loving ghoul, which he returns. "I'm surprised at you, Detective. You're usually more observant than this. Don't worry, we'll sit and make a study of Charon's widely varying emotional ranges, soon enough."

He snorts an incredulous little laugh as he holds the door for me. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

I grin back at him. "Sure I'm sure! About what, seven foot and built like a brick house? Red hair, missing more skin than usual, uses a mean-looking, every bit as massive as he is combat shotgun, that's so heavily modified it's amazing it actually takes regular ammo anymore? Name's the same as the ferryman on the River Styx?" I nod assuredly. "Yeah, pretty sure we're talking about the same guy."

Nick smirks at me, almost rolling his eyes. "Wise-ass." He nods at Ham. "Heya Ham, any trouble tonight?"

I take Nick's elbow again just as Ham answers, "Not until now," his eyes locked right on mine.

Nicky frowns, looking to me for clarification, then back at Ham. "What are you tryin' to say, Ham? I've never heard of her makin' trouble here, why would she start now?"

I give a subtle shake of my head as Nick looks back to me again. "Ham doesn't like me. Hasn't liked me since I apparently 'abducted' John from Goodneighbor, even though he hardly ever really leaves it, and I'm actually a resident here. Seems to think I'm a curse on his existence, though I can't quite fathom why. There was that time I snipped at him about the accusations he leveled at me, but I don't think I was entirely unreasonable in my self-defense."

Nicky turns back to Ham, demanding, "What accusations did you level, exactly?"

Ham grinds his teeth so hard they creak before he ultimately answers, "That she's someone to be carefully watched, a powder keg; vicious, methodical, a trained killer. I told John to watch his back. And to watch her, and for more than just her ass."

I nod my confirmation when Nick seeks it. "That sums it up, yeah. I told him I did what I had to. The thing he was questioning the most was the fact that I'd stripped the mobsters I killed in the warehouses here for their clothing, and cleaned the places out of any potential scrap or anything like I do everywhere else. You know why."

Nick seems a bit taken aback by the whole thing. "Well sure, you take it all to supply the Minutemen settlements. Hell, I've been to a few of 'em with ya recently; they're well-supplied and defended like fortresses. It's a welcome sight to see at the end of a long haul." He looks at Ham, features twisted in confusion. "This is why you don't like her?"

Ham shrugs. "Never said I didn't like her. Just that I don't trust her. She's got somethin' wild in her I just can't ignore, like everybody else seems happy to. It ain't right and it ain't normal. She might be doin' good out there—shit, I've seen she is, not gonna deny it. Not sayin' I don't like her, or what she's done. But I don't have to trust her."

I shrug, giving Nick's arm a gentle tug. "Can't win 'em all. I do want you to know, I've never had any problem with you, Ham. When you went after me that day, It'd already been a fuck of a day and I was exhausted. Just... didn't feel like putting up with any more shit than I already had. So while I'm not taking back anything I said, I do apologize for snapping at you like I did."

It takes a moment, during which he looks me up and down several times, before Ham nods. "Apology accepted. Still don't trust ya."

I snort, shaking my head. "Didn't think an apology would change that, believe me. I hope you'll be able to see past whatever it is you think is in me, one day." I rally an admirable attempt at a genuine smile, then peer up at Nick. "C'mon, let's go grab a table before it gets too busy."

Nick gives me an almost absent nod, then eyes Ham until we pass him. I elbow him again, regaining his attention. "What?"

"Let it go, Nicky. Ham's not gonna start likin me just because you look at him real hard." I smirk charmingly at him, then pausing at the first landing to listen, as I always do.

Nick waits, watching me curiously.

I grin and blindly pull him into the shadowed alcove as I listen, pressing a single finger to his lips and closing my eyes, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

We can shake it up a little
We can kick it up a notch
We can put it on the griddle
Better get it while it's hot

Mags is tuning up for the night. It's not quite a full performance, just a chorus and a verse or two, but I stop to listen, anyway. I lower my finger from his lips, resting that hand on his chest; my other hand at his elbow sliding down to twine its fingers with his.

I'll meet you in the middle
You can show me what you got
If you're feeling lucky tonight

"I always take a moment here," I murmur softly enough to know it won't echo, but I know he hears me anyway, "to listen to Mags sing. The acoustics are perfect here, and her voice is one of the few true beauties of the Commonwealth. She's part of the reason I settled here, part of the allure."

A soft huff of amusement sounds in our shared space, and he looks down at me with something akin to teasing admiration. "Sounds like you're a little sweet on our resident songbird."

My eyes blow wide in surprise, eyebrows climbing unbelievingly. "What? Hah! No. Don't get me wrong, she's a dishy dame; I'd go there in a heartbeat if my heart wasn't already taken. But it is."

I watch as something unbearably bittersweet passes behind those amber eyes, and just catch the edge of the motion of his throat as he swallows before he pipes up, "You know, I'm aware I'm not the most... well, what I mean to say is, if you ever need to look elsewhere, for more excitement, I wouldn't blame you. I'd be sore if you didn't let me know, don't get me wrong, but, I wouldn't—"

"Nicky! And Shana! How are ya?" John greets us as he beats feet down the stairs, away from Ham. He lowers his volume to something more intimate as he continues, "Charon tells me everything went well on your little ah, ghost hunt?"

Damn if he doesn't have just the most impeccable timing. But I still love every single silky syllable that comes out of his mouth. Wait... love? When did that—

"It went very well, yes." Nick supplies, when it's become apparent that I'm lost in the cage of my own mind, viciously rattling the bars and trying to tear my way out with my teeth. "Things running smoothly here?"

"Smooth as ever. Well, mostly. Morowski's giving me a bit of a headache—" I tune him out, because I can't think past that voice of his right now. It isn't until a touch not native to either of my hearts startles me from my momentary insanity, that I realize I've tuned out all sound.

Charon stands between Nick and John, hand on my arm, and the volume gets turned back up like I've just broken the surface of the water that was drowning me. "Mistress, if you would please come with me, I wish to speak with you about my contract."

I frown slightly at the address, but nod and follow him, leaving my pair of dumbfounded hearts beating in erratic confusion behind us.

Charon leads the way, not stopping until we breach the restroom door. Once we're both inside, he locks the door and turns, bracing my arms as I rest my hands on his shoulders and just breathe.

As his shoulders rise, as he breathes for me, I follow, copying his pace as well as I can, until my breathing slows to something resembling normal.

He knows in a few minutes, I'll pretend to be fine, that I'll be unspeakably grateful to him for the save, that I'll probably break down and cry.

I know that he'll stand there quietly, and be the rock in my storm that I so desperately need to maintain this thread of sanity I'm still somehow clinging to.

Because he knows, when he needs me to do the same for him, I'm there with a waiting hand and open arms. Ready to breathe for him.

It's not an arrangement either of us wants to be made public, or would even privately admit to, but it's one we both take a sliver of pride in.

Us monsters need to stick together, after all.

Our pack needs us.