The duo had traveled on Six's command to Novac, Primm, and Boulder City though Six kept his reasons to himself. He didn't trust Harley enough to open up about what had happened to his delivery and the encounter with the strange men. He left her to her clueless self, keeping everything he saw and heard away from her attention.
Once Six had gathered enough information about the man in the checkered suit, Benny, from the Great Khans in Boulder City he immediately took off to a place he knew well of: Freeside.
The two had entered through the east gate, a few of the bodyguards that stood alongside the gate stared at Harley in wonder. She gave them a dirty look, though she was careful to stick closely to Six who entered the closest shop on the right.
He walked up to the closest counter and slammed his fist down to catch the men's attention. "Ralph, I need a favor," he said rather quietly, his accent was barely audible.
Ralph, who was previously completely indulged in a magazine, practically jumped out of his seat at the sudden noise. "Jesus Christ," he sighed, rubbing his eyes until he realized who stood before him, "Ah, back from the dead are we? Heard you were caught in a ditch with your brains blown. Back for more scotch?"
Six hesitated at this, slowly moving and adjusting himself to keep Harley out of Ralph's line of sight. He nodded at this, "Yeah, I'll take that in a moment. Right now it would be mighty appreciated if you could get me a credit check for the Strip. How much can I get for one?"
Ralph's eyebrows shot up immediately at this, sitting back in his seat, "I dunno, I suppose since you're a good friend and all I can at least give ya a discount... Let's say around a two hundred caps?"
"You know I don't have that kind of money," Six growled, leaning closer, "What if I just dropped the liquor? How much would that be?"
"I'm still wanting a couple hundred caps, friend. Now if you're willing to trade, ah... Maybe we can work something in your favor."
Six narrowed his eyes, "What could I have that you possibly want?"
"Well, seeing as you still have that old NCR Veteran outfit maybe Mick can patch it up for ya and we can buy it for a pretty cap or two. Hell, I'll even give ya the credit check free for that if you can get me a matching helmet."
Harley stepped into Ralph's line-of-sight, pulling Six back to get a better look at his outfit. "You want how much for this? My own get up is not even that expensive! The stratagem combo-"
"Your what?" Six made a face.
"My trenchcoat," she deadpanned, "That, my shorts, tights, and shoes are even that much!... Okay, altogether yes. But I'm talking about individually."
Ralph stared in awe at Harley, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Now that you mention it, I may be persuaded in a different direction. Give me, say, twenty minutes with your new friend and we might just work something out."
Six began to decline this offer, but Harley reacted much faster by taking Ralph's arm and twisting it back. Ralph let out a squeal, struggling under her grasp, "Alright, alright! Take the damned check and get out!"
Harley slightly twisted his arm further. "I want the scotch, too," she calmly demanded.
"Harley, it's fine," Six signaled her to release the merchant from her grasp, to which she threw Ralph back onto his seat, "Now that's out of the way, I'm sure you're willing to rethink your decision."
Ralph rubbed his sore wrist, glaring to the two and mumbling under his breath. He rummaged underneath the counter, slamming a check and a tall bottle of scotch. Six took up the objects, not bothering to hide his wide smirk. On he way out he glanced back to Ralph and happily sang, "Pleasure doing business with you, friend."
"Is he really a friend of yours?" Harley made a face, snatching the bottle of scotch away from him.
Six shrugged, "Acquaintances, at best. I used to stop by Freeside a lot before I became a courier and trade things with him and Mick. It's where I got my ol' rifle. I know most of this land like the back of my hand."
"Alright Mr. Fancy Pants, then why did that guy seem to want your duds pretty badly? No offense, but that is an outfit to keep the ladies away," she chuckled.
Six's face seemed to have fallen at the mention of this, his face and posture stiffening. "Family heirloom," he kept his words short, sweet, and low.
Harley didn't seem to have noticed his sudden change in mood. This was a good sign, as this was just another question he didn't have to answer to. They passed through the Securitrons that guarded the entrance of the Strip, Six flashing them the forged credit check as the two passed into the Strip.
Six gently grabbed Harley by the arm, pointing up to a pair of buildings on the other side of the Strip, "See that? That's where we're heading. There should be a guy in there with a checkered jacket. Do you think there's any way you could use your 'feminine charm' to help?"
She smirked, linking her arm around his own, "Why, I'd be insulted if you didn't ask. Despite how run down the Wasteland looks, you seemed to have forgotten to mention how technologically advanced your world is. What year is it, anyway?"
"Shouldn't be too far from wherever you're from. It's about, what- 2281? Yeah, that sounds about right-"
"It's what?" Her eyes almost bulged out of its sockets, "I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore, Todo..."
Six made a face at this, giving her a sideways glance before just shaking off the strange phrase. Harley wasn't very impressed with the first sights of the Strip- Before, Six made the place out to be a gambling haven and it seemed he left out some details. The prostitutes that hung outside of Gamorrah looked unhappy as ever, though they tried to distract this miserable look with a dance. What did catch her attention though was the Lucky 38, the large roulette-looking building that stood taller than any other structure. In fact, she noticed how nice and preserved the Strip was compared to the other ruins Six dragged her off to.
"You know, I'm not really feeling the whole post-apocalyptic setting with talking robots and radiated animals, but I like how this whole joint is so..."
"Homey? If you were around while this was a city, of course," he followed her gaze to the Lucky 38, his expression much more vacant than her nostalgic one, "They say up there is Mr. House who's been here for a couple hundred years. I actually had to deliver something to him, too."
"What happened?" Harley broke the hypnotic stare, arching a brow.
He stayed quiet for a moment, mulling over his next few words. He still found it hard to give her trust so early on; then again maybe she could prove to be of assistance after all. "Shit happened. We need to get into the Tops so I may 'talk' with this one guy- A guy in a checkered suit. Now that I'm thinking about it, you do have weapons right?"
She slid her arm out of his, suggesting to the pistol holsters that were latched around her thighs. He was actually impressed by this until she heard him scoff, "Please, of course not! But I do have something that could prove to be invaluable..." She rummaged in one of the holsters, pulling out miniature headphones and a small device, "An iPod!"
Six's face fell, taking the small iPod into his hands as he got a closer look, "A what?"
"My point exactly," she chuckled, resting her hands on her waist, "This technology may not be as advanced, but from where I'm from this is my personal haven. It plays music, among other things."
"You realize if you wanted to listen to music, I have a Pip Boy for that," he raised his left arm to show her, handing it back.
Harley snatched this back from him, "I've already heard the music on that little do-hickey. It's not even good music- It's that stupid 50's music that makes me feel I'm in some kind of terrible sitcom. Have you ever been in a 1950's sitcom, Six?"
Her flustered face managed to crack a smile on him, though Six turned his head so she couldn't see. She let out a groan, shuddering as she remembered the terrible experience of that simulation. They began to approach The Tops, Six stopping right outside its entrance.
"Are you coming?" Harley asked, her hand already on the door.
He remained eerily silent for a solid moment, his eyes narrowing. He felt a very soft breeze blow through; it was almost unnoticeable except for feeling the ends of his armor flapping. He felt a mixture of excitement and anger that stirred in his stomach, but a part of him was cautious. That perhaps inside there was a trap waiting for him to be ambushed once more.
A sharp pain hit his head hard, letting out a groan at the sudden sensation. He lifted his hand over the scar of the bullet, closing his eyes and cringing at the sudden pain that pulsated around his temple. He hunched over, ready to kneel down and tear his hair out if that meant having the pain leave.
The feeling of soft skin brushed against his hand, he opened his eyes to see Harley who looked fearful. "Hey- Are you okay?" her voice jumped from her casual, sarcastic tone and a more low, softer one.
"Right as rain, darlin'" he managed a weak smile.
"Are you sure? I called for you about four times- Didn't you hear me?" One hand stroked his own, the other one reaching towards his face to brush some hair out of his eyes. This had revealed the small, ugly scar that stained his skin; she reeled back her hand and the let the hair fall back over.
He felt the tips of his ears burn slightly, straightening his back and collecting himself again. The strange moment passed over them quickly, Six returning to his normal self fairly quick. "Let's go," he said quietly, walking passed her and into the Tops.
Harley quickly turned around, resuming her normal behavior. "Hey! Are we just not going to talk about that?" she said rather loudly, already capturing the attention of a few gamblers and the security there.
"There is nothing for us to talk about," he retorted, "Now please, quiet down. Remember we're here on business, if you catch my drift."
She rolled her eyes, making a face towards Six once he turned his back and followed him into the Tops.
Six handed his hunting rifle to a few gruesome looking thugs who insisted to pat Harley down for any concealed weapons she may be carrying. He slid a hand around her instead, pulling her close to his side, "Excuse me, darlin'. Are these boys troublin' you, dear?"
She tried to push him away until she noticed him give her a wink. She immediately relaxed inside his grip and curled up against him, "No, now that you're here."
The thugs took a step back, grumbling under their breaths. Six immediately recoiled his arm way from her and approached the front desk, leaning on it, "Hey there..." He glanced to the receptionist's name tag, "Swank, mind doin' me a favor?"
Harley instantly zoned out of their conversation, proceeding into the Tops to get a better look of the casino. She made a face at the music and fashion choices of the local gambler's, cueing her to mutter to herself, "It's like these people never got out of the 1950's..."
She observed the guests, eventually spotting one guy in a strange suit. She gazed at him, noticing something sparkle as it fell from his pocket.
"Hey, you," she tried to get his attention, running over to pick up the small object, "You dropped something..."
She stood back up, to see him looking wide-eyed at her, then right past her. She turned her head in time to see Six staring right back at the two, mouthing the words oh shit.
Six snatched back his rifle as he saw him dig one hand into his checkered jacket, sprinting towards him and Harley. He tried to shout for Harley's attention, but it was too late.
The man held an arm around Harley's neck, taking out an old pistol and holding it to her head, "Ring-a-ding-ding baby, looks like this pussycat knows how to attract a stray. How about you don't take a single step closer or I blow this little kitten's brains out?"
"Let her go, Benny," Six demanded.
"I swear to God, Six, if you don't take him out then I will," Harley snarled through gritted teeth.
Six hesitated for a moment, sighing as he lowered his rifle. Harley's eyes looked wild with anger, mouthing swear words to him. Benny smiled at this, throwing her towards the Courier before taking off himself.
Harley managed to catch herself before Six did, taking a step forward and slugging him in the jaw. Six fell back, holding his mouth and groaning. "What the hell was that for?!" He snapped.
"For letting that poorly dressed bastard get away!" She huffed, crossing her arms, "I don't care if he had a gun to my head or threatened to tie me on train tracks! I'm a Saint, I can take care of myself!"
"I see that," he groaned, pushing himself up. He looked to the door, swearing aloud, "Fuck, he's probably already out of the Strip. Great going..."
"Well, he did leave something behind," Harley held up Benny's engraved cigarette lighter, handing it to Six, "At least we know his face. I mean, c'mon- the Mojave can't be that big."
Six only shoved the lighter in his pocket, slumping his shoulders without a word. He dragged himself out of the Tops, collapsing near the entrance. Harley sat next to him, laying back against the wall.
"Let's just call it a day," he sighed, "I don't have much energy to keep going, anyways. What do your people do to drown their sorrows?"
"We drink until we can't remember our names," Harley let out a humorless laugh, forcing a smile.
This also managed to get Six to crack a smirk, pulling out the scotch he ordered earlier. "Feel like giving it a whirl?" He popped off the cap.
"Seeing you look miserable as ever, friend, of course I would," she took the bottle and gave it a swig.