edit 8/7/14

Callie woke on the couch in Benny's suite, still wearing the same clothes that she had remembered drifting off in; black tshirt, no pants. Good sign.

She had been tucked in, from neck to toes, and felt much warmer now. That chill certainly had little to do with the ambient air temperature. Fuck, new symptoms.

But Swank was on the case. They already had the autodoc safely recovered, no irate bots had come after her, or, at least, none of them had made it past the doorman downstairs. Swank could be trusted to deliver on the medical textbook. He was as true and loyal as Benny, at least Swank and Benny had always been loyal to each other, warm too. If Benny requested it of Swank, Swank would get it done. Callie knew she was tangential to that exchange.

She pulled her knees to her chest and resisted the urge to voluntarily fall back into Mint's memories. Part of her was concerned that they wouldn't be there anymore. "Her" last tie that would explain this weird affection for Benny would be gone and she would have to face facts that she was actually being completely irrational rather than being able to blame it on someone else. Part of her was worried that the memories were still present and she would continue to dip in and out of them like an affection-laced drug. Speaking of which.

Leaving the blanket behind, she returned to the bedroom and opened her bedside table drawer. Inside was her cardboard box of Mentats (apparently, she had exhausted the Wasteland's supply of tinned Mentats) and a note in Benny's scrawled excuse for handwriting. She palmed two of the pills and headed to the bathroom, taking the note with her. She didn't bother with a glass, bending over and drinking straight from the tap to wash the Mentats down. Only then did she turn her attention to Benny's note.

"Callie,

Don't worry, Girlie. I've got some ends that need tying up and some deals to hash. Don't worry. I'll be back. If not, or if your little heart is all pitter patter dead set on following me, bring a chaperone. Don't need the likes of you taking advantage of little old me.

Benny"

Alright, she had to learn to trust him. Besides, it wasn't as if the Legion could capture him again, right? He wouldn't be that fucking stupid a second time. Everyone but her seemed to think the Legion was a problem that had already been solved and could be shelved away.

She double checked Yes Man's office to make sure Benny wasn't already back in there, or maybe he hadn't actually left yet. The robot turned to face her and shouted. Securitron series only seemed to have shouting volume by default. Callie never remembered the robots in the vault being this loud.

"Howdy!" It's stubby arm waved at her. She was going to just turn and leave, but she didn't really have a whole lot going on at the moment. She had told Benny she wouldn't get herself into too much trouble. And if she did get into trouble, it would at least be close by. Besides, Yes Man was predictable, unlike some people. Er, actual people. Unlike people.

"Yes Man, let's talk."

"Sure thing, Pretty Lady Friend!"

Callie grabbed one of the chairs and swung it around so she could sit facing Yes Man's screen. Even though the face didn't change when it spoke, it still felt a little more engaging speaking to it's screen rather than having her back to it.

"Benny has given you priorities, yes?"

"Yeppers. A whole roadmap to his takeover and control of the Strip and surrounding communities. He's added oodles of information since yesterday, even."

"Did he ask for your input in prioritizing activities?"

"Nope! Said he had it all planned out. Just needed me for some execution of his plans. I do keep his calendar though!"

Shouting, always with the shouting and these Securitrons. "Okay, first, can I adjust your vocal response volume? Maybe drop it by twenty-five percent?"

"Sure thing, Pretty Lady Friend."

Ah, blissful to have it speaking at a normal volume for once. She would have to try this on Victor too if she had the chance. But then again, she didn't have unrestricted access to Victor's programming.

"Okay, now, looking at Benny's plans, is there an item you think should be prioritized that Benny hasn't gotten to yet?" She had to trust Benny's decision making over Yes Man's. Benny was real and warm and alive. He would care if she disregarded his plans. Yes Man wouldn't care. And besides, she wasn't supposed to prefer Yes Man over Benny. She didn't prefer Yes Man over Benny. In fact, Yes Man was increasingly creeping her out. Oh, and she wasn't supposed to care what happened in this little Mojave power play. The only problem was she was starting to care a little bit. She cared because Benny cared. And Benny, for whatever reason, cared about her. Vicious cycle, that one.

"Well, after you and Benny returned from Fortification Hill, he shelved everything to do with Caesar's Legion. Told me to cross them right off the list. That they were done for. But I have a sneaking suspicion that they are a tad more resilient than that."

Callie nodded. The Legion would probably end up being her own personal vendetta at some point, after she was well. Maybe, if the surgery worked, she would pack up some supplies and head out. The replacement code for the Chip would be her primary contribution to Benny's plans. There was still work to be done on that front, but she could work remotely from her Pip-boy and fuck up some Legion assholes too.

"Anything inside the Strip that needs to be taken care of?" Maybe she would find herself a little trouble. Just enough to keep her occupied.

"Benny has entries for both the White Glove Society and the Omertas. He wants to ensure that all the Strip families are loyal to the Chairmen, whether they like it or not."

"Ugh, that's politicking, isn't it?"

"Yep."

Well, it would at least give her something to do to check things out a little on the Strip. She had always been in and out, or mostly confined to Benny's suite. Other than her trip to the Lucky 38. The rest of the Strip was a bit of a mystery to her, particularly in its current state. Even if she didn't actually do anything about the other families, it wasn't as if she could actually fuck up Benny's plans. Benny's plans had a habit of going to shit on their own, even if he seemed to recover in the end.

"So this White Glove Society, they're in the Ultra Luxe, right?"

"Yep. Have a bit of a sketchy history, that group. Well, I suppose all the families do. But especially them, and the Omertas, and the Chairmen."

"That's all the Strip families, Yes Man."

"Yep."

"Yep." Callie rolled her eyes, not that Yes Man would understand that. "Okay, I'm going to the Ultra Luxe then. If Benny comes back, let him know."

"Sure thing, Pretty Lady."

The name thing was absolutely hopeless at this point. She'd have to find where that setting was, but right now she needed a drink. And pants, she needed pants.

Before she had left for the Lucky 38, Benny had laid out a bunch of clothes in her approximate size, but they had all been put away now. There was only the one dresser, so she started going through the drawers, avoiding the one that held Mint's things.

All of it looked kind of similar to what she saw. But she mostly wore men's clothes so that was to be expected. She and Benny were pretty similar in size, so it wasn't like it was easily discernable what was intended for her and what was his. She should have just thrown on a pair of his slacks and called it a day, but of course she had to give in to that part of her that was utterly tortured and look in that drawer.

This was the third fucking time she was drawn to that fucking drawer.

She was even angry as she opened it and found it full of the clothes intended for her. It felt somehow like a betrayal of the dead girl. How dare she, of all people, replace someone who had clearly been so special to Benny? He had told her this was the way things were, that you love and then you grieve and then you can love again. She saw some truth in the statement, she supposed. But her affections had never really gotten that far. And this was too much, literally occupying the same space that Mint once had. It was a concretization of her anxiety. Right, Mint was literally in her head too.

Still, she needed the damn pants. She pulled out a pair from the back and put them on. From the looks of it, all of Mint's things were gone. The pretty dresses and lacy undergarments and the little sachet that smelled like a flower but Callie didn't know what one. They didn't have flowers in the vault. But they did have girls in pretty dresses and straight hair that were desirable and loved, even if that love was assigned to them.

Now the drawer was full of soft, broken in tshirts, slacks and a pair of jeans. A leather belt, fuck he had been thinking of her specifically, maybe. Getting a leather belt but no bras. It was kind of absurd.

She pulled the belt through the loops of the slacks, tightening it around her waist where previously she had relied on her hips to keep everything from falling off. She left on the same shirt, it felt and smelled clean yet. Since she was going to a place called the Ultra Luxe she might as well try to look a bit more upscale. There were a couple of dress shirts in the drawer too. They were darted on the side. They were women's dress shirts. She put on a white one with blue stripes and left the buttons undone.

Down in the lobby she waved goodbye to the doorman who wasn't Swank and realized it would probably be in her best interest to start learning people's names. It was one of those things about transitioning back into life. She had to start treating people like people, as if they were important and she'd see them again. Even if they weren't important, she couldn't just haunt around the Strip as if she were a ghost. It was hard though, thinking about the fact there would be more than just tomorrow. There would be lots of days, maybe even years ahead of her. Even in the vault she hadn't really thought that way. She was never really attached to people.

Two NCR soldiers on leave were stripped down to their bras and underwear frolicking in the fountain in front of the Ultra Luxe. They giggled with drunkenness and splashed water at each other, wetting their hair. Callie watched as the water ran down over the curve of their breasts and clung in little droplets to their hips and thighs. Yeah, she was oogling. Her and a half dozen men cheering the scene on.

Right, she was supposed to be here to learn something about the White Glove Society, not stare at breasts. They were nice breasts though. Really really nice. Urg, well that definitely answered the question if she still liked women.

All of this sex with Benny thing had been a little bit of a mystery to her as she regained her memories. There were absolutely no men for her in the vault, only women. Her unwillingness to submit to men sexually had been one of the things that lead to her ostracization from vault society. Girls were getting married at seventeen and eighteen. Kids became sexually active a couple of years before that. But she had just hated the idea of it. She hated the idea of their huge hands and hairy chests, and their cocks. She had really not liked the idea of that part.

Under the influence of Mint she had absolutely craved Benny though. But less and less she could use that as an excuse. Besides, when she saw Arcade for the first time after the shooting, she had that very visceral memory of wanting him, even though, obviously, their relationship had never turned that kind of intimate. Arcade got her hot and bothered when no other man ever had. And that was all her, that was Callie.

And now Arcade was dead. She had to accept it. Arcade was dead and it was her fault. If she had been better at talking to people, more persuasive, she could have convinced him to walk away. Fuck, it had been her idea in the first place that he chased her across the Mojave in her self-destructive death sprint. And now Benny had killed Arcade like he tried to kill her. Fuck, it was so easy to forget the murdering part when he was placing those soft kisses to her forehead and lips. But it wasn't like her hands were any cleaner.

At the entrance to the Ultra Luxe she was instructed to hand over her weapon. Right, it hadn't occurred to her that while she was a fucking princess at the Tops and the Lucky 38, no one here owed her any allegiance. Now she wished that she brought a switchblade or something else easily concealable with her. Too late now. She slid her laser pistol across the counter and the greeter eyed her Pip-boy suspiciously.

"It doesn't come off. And it's not a weapon."

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded his sandy-blonde head and let her continue in. Without fail that 'it doesn't come off' line always worked.

Moving from the entryway into the lobby it occurred to Callie that she was woefully underdressed compared to most everyone else. The men wore tuxes and the women pretty dressed like Mint would have (but none of them purple). The members of the White Glove Society had delicate half-masks hiding their features from view, making their noses perfectly straight and concealing the lines around their eyes.

She slid up to the circular bar in the center of the room, not really knowing where to start. She had come looking for a way to be helpful and to ward off cabin-fever but she didn't exactly have a plan here.

"Just vodka, in a glass." She winced, how else would she want it, poured over her head? The bartender smiled though, despite the awkward phrasing of her request. His pink lips twitched while the rest of his face was unreadable. He placed the glass of vodka in front of her on a delicate napkin. Disposable things like that seemed so odd to her, even now.

Around the curve of the bar sat an older man in a worn looking brown suit and a cowboy hat. A larger man loomed over him silently, his eyes scanning the room and his body twitching at every unexpected sound. Highly strung that one. Callie averted her eyes when it became clear that she had looked too long.

She tried her best to listen to the ambient noise of the casino floor, seeing if she could pick up on anything interesting. Women's laughter sparkled through her ears and the smooth lower tones of men offering them hours of good time. The White Glove Society members said little, moving around the floor and filling drinks, offering sweets and little delicacies.

"You don't look much like a regular."

Callie swiveled on her barstool and was face to face with the older man. He hadn't really snuck up on her, but she hadn't been alert to physical proximity. She was probably safe here. Even if members of the Society had a rough idea of who she was, and there wasn't really reason to think anyone other than House knew her association with Benny, they wouldn't be so bold as to try and off her or something.

"No, no, just taking in the scenery." The last bit of the vodka had warmed a bit and it burned going down, leaving a pleasant feeling down the length of her throat.

The old man gestured at the bartender to bring her another.

"You look like a woman who could get a job done, for the right amount of caps."

Oh hell no. This shit again. She couldn't help the way her face contorted. And since this man was actually a human, he could read nonverbal cues just fine.

"Woah, woah," he threw up his hands to deflect guilt. "I'm a married man. I didn't mean that kind of job." He gestured to the Pip-boy on her wrist. "Only two types of people have those. Vault-dwellers and people who kill vault-dwellers. Since you're not a soft looking kid laying face first in a ditch, I'd assume the latter?"

What? Was that the reputation of vaulties? Because everything in her experience had been just the opposite. She was assumed to be more capable than everyone else around her. But was that because they assumed she had been murdering vaulties and stealing their stuff? Okay, so technically she did kill someone to get her Pip-boy back, and that person she murdered for it had come from a vault. So it was complicated.

She grunted in reply, rather than clue in this stranger to her very weird last few weeks.

"The name's Gunderson, Heck Gunderson." He offered his hand and she shook it out of politeness. She supposed that meant she had to offer a name too.

"Callie Wa...just Callie is fine." It wasn't that she was afraid to speak her own name. Not really, but she hadn't even had the chance yet to tell Benny her family name. And that seemed weird, letting it fall for the first time to a stranger and not Benny. When he got back from whatever he was doing, she would tell him.

"Truth is Miss Callie, my boy has gone missing and I'm not getting anywhere with these creeps who run the place. No one has heard a peep from the boy and he's just too dumb to not attract attention." He took a sip from the amber liquid in his glass and a drag from his cigar. "Don't get me wrong, they're good for the caps, these White Gloves, but that doesn't mean they don't give me the heeby-jeebys."

Callie ran her finger along the edge of her full vodka glass until it surprised her with a squeak.

"I'm an important man, and there are those likely to take advantage of my boy. Ted, I don't know where that boy went wrong. His mother is too soft with him." He shook his head. Clearly this guy was at the end of his rope, seeking help from some stranger he knew nothing about. There was a lot of that going around.

Callie put her hand on his shoulder and stood up, leaving the mostly-full glass of vodka behind. "I'm not the person for this, but I hope you find your son." She hoped she sounded like she kind of cared, but she mostly didn't People died all the time. Nowhere was safe, no amount of money or prestige. Even her own position was precarious.

It wasn't really as if she could wander aimlessly, so she moved with purposeful strides to the back of the casino floor following the signs for "the Gourmand."

A distinguished looking woman looking to be in her early 50s stood at the entrance to the restaurant and offered Callie a warm smile. She didn't wear a half-mask like the others and that instantly made her more approachable. The soft lines of her face suggested she may have been quite pretty when she was younger. She was kind of pretty now too.

"Why hello. You seem a little underdressed for service. Perhaps you wouldn't mind putting on something a little more appropriate before attending dinner?" Her sweet tone prevented the statement from being overly condescending. Besides, Callie had no intention of eating. "Not that I'm judging you for your choice of attire in the abstract. Only we do maintain a dress code at the Gourmand. A sanctuary of luxury to melt away the roughness of the world outside."

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't really planning on eating. Er, there was just this man at the bar and I didn't want to…"

"Ah, say no more!" She drew her thin lips into a half-smile. "We're between meals at the moment and a bit slow. Just talk to me and he won't bother you one bit. Girls these days though. Why, wouldn't I love to dress you up. You have such lovely hair."

Callie actually blushed a little bit. At least her cheeks felt warm. Having this stranger dote on her like a mother was a little weird, but also kind of nice. Besides, no one ever said they liked her hair. The woman reached out to one of her loose curls and pulled it a little, watching it bounce back up into its original shape.

There was a memory there. One from her childhood, before sixteen. The boy who sat behind her in lessons pulling her curls and giggling until she turned around and decked him in the face. She was seven, maybe eight at most. The teacher called her mother and the boy's. He never sat behind her again.

And there she was. Callie's mother who had been missing from her memories for so long. She had pale skin and straight hair and blue eyes. None of these things Callie had. And there was a jealousy deep in her, even then, that her mother was pretty and she wasn't. Her mother told Callie that this only happened because the boy liked her and with all the audacity and certainty of a child Callie swore she would never like boys, never ever ever ever. The next day she went to class in braids.

"Oh, dear! I've been so rude." The woman in front of her looked honestly mortified. Callie was kind of mortified too, but at least the memory hadn't resulted into another lapse or fit. She just sort of zoned out for a minute. "I shouldn't have done that at all. I apologize. My name is Marjorie and I hope you can forgive me."

"No, no, that's okay. I'm sorry if I worried you. I haven't been quite myself lately." That was kind of true. "I'm Callie." She offered her hand and Marjorie shook it between both of hers.

"Dear is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

"Guess I'm just a little lonely...but not for the kind of attention he was offering."

"Of course not, well then, other than some presumptuous gentlemen, have you been enjoying your time at the Ultra Luxe?"

"Yeah," That was it, if she kept talking she would seem like a normal person. "it's all...luxurious."

"The world outside can be harsh and uninviting. We strive to provide a refuge for those of sophistication. I know our reputation has not always been spotless, but that's in the past now. Likewise, while we hope to cultivate finer tastes, it need not be established through breeding, but rather learning." Not only was she a sweet woman, she was a salesperson through and through, that was for sure.

"Oh? I actually don't know a lot about the families' histories. I've only recently come to the Strip."

"Well, the past is the past. While we may have been savage Tribals, I must say we have quite acclimated into respectable members of the community. We pride ourselves on being the finest establishment on the Strip."

"I've been to the Tops. I like it there too."

Marjorie scoffed. "You better be careful around those boys. They act like gentlemen but they still have a wild streak to them."

She could say that again. Callie had the bruises on her hips to attest.

"Let me tell you something about how far we've come here. You know, some in our tribe used to practice cannibalism? Dreadful. At first, you justify it as a means of survival. But it's not. That's no way to go on being human."

Now she was just spilling information out that Callie had no business knowing. Did Benny know this? They had all been Tribals at the same time, so maybe he did. It could have been an open secret around the Strip. Still, she felt like she had touched upon something useful.

"We've changed though, really and truly. The other families might still dabble in the old ways, but we've overcome our obstacles and I'm proud of my brothers and sisters, in their resolve."

"Hey, um, so someone was mentioning his son went missing. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Another one? Our reputation." Marjorie brought her hands to her face, careful still not to smudge her makeup.

"Another one? This happened before?"

"A bride, set to be married the next day. She got cold feet is all. But now there is an investigator looking into the situation, bothering our guests." She brought a well-manicured finger to her mouth and bit down on it. "Oh, this isn't to trouble you, dear."

"I can understand cold feet. This is a man though, and his father didn't say anything about a wedding."

"This is New Vegas, young men and women do all sorts of things their parents do not want for them. Some of these children, the ones that come from means, have been so sheltered they go a little wild when they come here. That's all there is to it."

Callie nodded, there really wasn't an elegant way to extract herself from this conversation, but she wanted out. If only for a moment. This was definitely a lead or two on how to get the White Glove Society on their side. Benny maybe knew the cannibal thing, but these disappearances were new. Maybe people went missing all the time, but maybe if they could find the girl and Ted Gunderson, the Society would owe them one when the time came.

"I was kind of sheltered too, I guess." She raised her right hand with the Pip-boy to emphasize her point, like it spoke for itself, although Heck had made it clear there were multiple interpretations of the device.

"Well, you, dear, take care of yourself. And stay away from those Chairmen boys. They'll only take advantage of a sweet girl like you."

Callie squeezed Marjorie's hand one last time. "I'll visit again, if that's okay?"

"Yes. And do wear something nice, you must try the Brahmin veal. It will be on the house. But I can't bend the dress code, even for you."

"I'll do my best."

Callie headed back towards the exit, careful to avoid any sort of eye contact with Heck Gunderson, lest he get the wrong idea that she gave a fuck.

She retrieved her laser from the doorman and thanked him. Those masks were really awful. Outside the NCR women had departed and the crowd dispersed. The sun was beginning to set.

Swank was still missing from the front desk but the greeter waved her on through. Even if she didn't know their names, all of them seemed to know her already. Rather than just rush by him she actually took a moment to stop.

"Hey, I'm Callie."

"I know." He looked a little nervous. Was she scary or some shit? Or was it because she was with Benny so they had to act like she was important, or off limits?

"Er, what's your name?"

"Buck."

"Nice to meet you, Buck. I'll see you around." Well, that was awkward.

She rode the elevator to the 13th floor alone. While she hadn't been gone that long, she was hoping Benny would be back by now, that he didn't worry and she didn't worry and this didn't end with them wading through the Colorado or any other major river this time.

Before she had left for the Ultra Luxe she had locked the door behind her, but she didn't actually have a key to get back in, crap. Maybe she didn't actually live here after all? Swank was out too, which meant a repeat awkward performance from Buck. She tried her luck with knocking.

"Coming."

Thank fuck, Benny's voice came from the other side of the door.

The door swung open and Benny stood in the frame, his shirt cuffs rolled up to his elbows showing off the tattoos on his forearms.

"Girlie," one of those casual kisses. "Missed you." He managed to get his arms around her waist and pull her into the suite and against his chest. His mouth went right for her ear, then her neck and she mewled despite herself. "I was worried, but I'm glad you're safe."

"I only went to the Ultra Luxe."

"Yeah, what were you doing with those cats? We're not on the best terms."

"Yes Man said you were looking for a way to control them. Figured I could do a little recon, since I'm not really recognized around here."

"I'd make sure the whole world knew you were my girl if that's what you wanted. Didn't think it was though."

"No, not yet at least." Callie sat down on the arm of the couch and Benny sank down next to her on the cushion.

"Come here, I can still show you that I'm yours." He pulled her down into his lap and started pawing at her again, sneaking his hands under her tshirt and massaging her breasts, squeezing them together and teasing the nipples. Even though she wasn't really doing much for him, other than grinding against his leg, he had a wicked smile on his face. "You're the best, Girlie."

"Mm, there's something I want to tell you. About myself." Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, giving her leverage to thrust herself against him. Too much clothing, but it was kind of erotic moving against each other through the barrier of their clothes. They had moved to fucking so fast they sort of skipped the heavy petting stage.

"Oh and what's that?" He stopped fondling her breasts and instead rolled his hands up and down her back, dipping into the waistband of her slacks, though the belt provided more resistance than he was used to encountering.

"My family name is Washington. Callie Washington. That's the first time I've said it out loud in a long time."

"Well, it won't be for much longer if I get my way."

Oh.