There was the sound of a struggling, somewhere beyond his sleep woozy mind. It interrupted his dreams, his brief escape from the reality – the wastes. His shuffled a little against his bedding, something warm covering his arms that wasn't there before, but comforting all the same. He didn't even really bother to question how it had gotten there. There was a shout from somewhere, a familiar voice, mocking, teasing, and barking out snide remarks that for some reason would have made the teen scoff if he was alert. Dorrien hugged closer to the bed, moaning out a sound that was meant to show his displeasure in all the noise. He refused to get up though – he didn't feel that he had slept long enough. There was tranquility in his dreams, a soothing second life that calmed him, and usually readied him for the next day. He lived as a pre-war young adult, some of the vault dwellers and some of the people he had come to love in the wastes living in a little town, the harmony overwhelming, but welcomed; constricting, but all too natural to cause disdain.
It wasn't weird to see a smiling face there, and there was no need for guns, or stimpaks, or Med-X; definitely not drugs. Butch lived across the street, still clad in his Tunnel Snakes jacket despite the dream world, as if he was rebelling against it. Characteristics in personality didn't change in his dreams – he couldn't will a person to change even if he truly wanted them too. That was just how life worked. There was that shout again, and within the dream that Dorrien had returned to, someone shouted as well, cursing another, and then there was another voice, one faintly recognizable. The dream was sepia toned – he slipped under again, disregarding the noise for a little longer – everything was brown tinted and forlorn to match his actual feelings, the air was a tad cold, and he felt goosebumps cover his arms. Charon and Dogmeat lived with Dorrien – and the contract didn't exist, never did and never would.
Charon didn't talk anymore than he did in reality, but he seemed happier, despite the lack of a smile, and even though he still spoke as if he was bond to the boy for reason other than his own free will. Things didn't change. Dorrien wasn't really a lucid dreamer. There was no smooching between himself and Butch, he wasn't coddled when he demanded it, and there was still the overwhelming sense that things weren't supposed to be this happy and nice. The grass felt sharp against his fingers when ever he sat in it, making bleeding wounds in his skin. And the sky looked bleak, and despite the sun, always looked as though it could rain for days – drowning the happy town out. For some reason, that seemed normal too. Nothing lasted forever, he told himself, because nothing was meant to.
His eyes blinked open at Dogmeat's barking, groaning out an irritated sound as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and pushing the Tunnel Snakes jacket off of him with irritated fingers. Charon probably put it there, but he wouldn't bother with it for now. He would probably end up upset that he had pushed the jacket to the floor, and cuddle it until he felt that his physical apology was enough. Then again, maybe he wouldn't need the jacket.
"Dorrien, get him off of me!" He turned to look, and Charon had Butch—wait . . .
"Butch, what the hell?" The boy stood, rushing over (tripping over his feet), and wedged himself between the two men – the foreign voice was Harkness who was also trying to pry them apart, but was failing as Charon just pushed him aside with the hand that wasn't locked around Butch's throat.
"He snuck into the room." Charon spoke in his raspy voice, and Dorrien pressed his hands to the ghoul's chest in an attempt to push him away. The ghoul wasn't holding tight enough to hurt Butch, but Dorrien didn't want any bullets to fly.
"I understand, but let him go. You met him yesterday, and you know I'm friends with him." He frowned up at the ghoul, who sighed, but with a hint of uncertainty, released the human male and backed away.
Harkness stood silently for a moment, watching this, and then he placed a hand to Dorrien's shoulder. They made eye contact for a moment, and then the human male nodded, offering a weary smile to the android. Harkness nodded, offering a slither of a smile before he left the room, leaving Dorrien to clear up whatever was happening. He turned, his eyes a little narrowed toward the two males, his lower lip protruding in a pout.
"He snuck into the room." Charon repeated, trying to explain his actions, and Butch pointed an accusing finger at the ghoul in response.
"I told you I just wanted to talk to him; you didn't have to get all—"
Dorrien groaned, grabbing Butch's wrist and placing his hand back at his side. The Tunnel Snake glanced at the red-head, raising a brow before he sighed and slumped back against the wall. The wanderer knew that Charon didn't trust Butch – not only was it in his nature, but he didn't like Butch from the beginning.
"Charon, you know you could have let him in, right?" Charon hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.
"That doesn't mean he was going to," Butch murmured.
"Why are you even here?" Dorrien took a step closer to Charon, and Butch perked his head up a little, shrugging his shoulders.
"I told you I was leaving the vault."
"And you decided to come all the way to Rivet City? I'm surprised you aren't dead." Again, he really thought that Butch would have been eaten by a yao guai. Greasers are tasty – so he had heard.
"I told 'ya I wasn't gonna get killed."
Dorrien smiled a little, and then looked away, and Butch grinned a little at this response, expecting it as it was something Dorrien used to do. He was embarrassed. Charon was staring down at the Tunnel Snake though, with blatant protection when it came to the red-headed wanderer. Butch wondered where Nosebleed had found this guy, but it probably didn't matter. The greaser closed the door with his foot, walking past the two – Dorrien had walked off to the side, where a cabinet was, rummaging through. He took a seat on the bed, and then picked up the discarded Tunnel Snakes jacket, smirking to himself.
"You still have this?" Dorrien looked over, blinking slowly then he nodded.
"Yeah, I wasn't going to throw it out. It's proof that you know how to do something other that torment people." As he turned back to face the cabinet he smirked to himself.
Butch sneered, and laid back on the bed, and Dorrien glanced at Charon who was grumbling. He brought his attention to the wanderer then sighed, Dogmeat was up and alert, wagging his tail contently.
"Hey, Charon," Dorrien folded his hands behind his back, chewing on his lower lip.
"Yes?"
"Can you go with Dogmeat and get something to eat. I don't care what," he pulled some caps out of the pouch that rested against his chest and handed them to the ghoul. He took the caps, and before passing a glare to Butch, he left the room, Dogmeat following behind. The door closed with a weak slam.
"I thought he'd never leave." Butch sighed, tossing the jacket back to Dorrien who fumbled with it when it came close to his hands, but didn't drop it entirely. He caught it somewhere around his waist.
"He's nice Butch, he just doesn't like you." Dorrien walked closer to the bed, pushing Butch's legs closer to the center and sitting in the now empty spot, resting back against the snake's knees.
Butch scoffed, punching the wanderer in the arm, but then sighing when the red-head winced. He was always so weak and fragile. I was surprising that he himself wasn't dead, honestly. That was probably why he always had stimpaks so close by. Speaking of which, the only reason Butch wasn't dead was because he used up what was given to him back at the Vault. He didn't run into anything too bad, but Dorrien wasn't lying when he said that there were creatures worse that radroaches. He was just glad he didn't see any of those dragons.
Butch's lips parted a little as he thought of a rebuttal, and Dorrien sighed, rubbing his fingers through his hair as if it was a cure all for stress. His sagacity was wearing thin, and if he wasn't careful (which he obviously wasn't being as he was on a bed with Butch), he'd end up doing something reckless and impulsive that could end with a legitimate nosebleed.
"Stop starin'," Butch pulled Dorrien from his thoughts, and the wanderer blinked slowly, shaking his head, "you always do that."
"I'm not staring." Dorrien mumbled and stood up, then yawned a little, checking his Pip-boy. It was only 7:15, and that meant that Charon wasn't going to be allowed in the marketplace anyway; and Dorrien was still tired.
"Did your eyes burn when you stepped out of the vault for the first time too?" Butch asked, startling the wanderer after a moment.
"Yeah, the cones in my retinas couldn't take the light and I was temporarily blinded." He turned his head to face Butch halfway through his statement, his lips curling up a little.
"Hey, hey, don't get all smart on me, alright?" Butch turned over onto his stomach, blinking slowly, contently. The bed wasn't comfortable, but it was enough.
"My dad was a doctor – I'm supposed to know shit," Dorrien narrowed his eyes down at him, "and your mom—"
Butch sat up, grabbing Dorrien's hand in too quick of a motion, pulling him back down to eye level, threatening him with his gaze. The red-head knew just how to set him off, and he liked that. After all the teasing that he was left subject to as a child, he figured that this was the best way to get back at him, for now.
"Watch it, Nosebleed." Butch warned, pulling their faces closer, their noses nearly touching; air being exchanged in quick breaths.
"I can smell the alcohol on your breath . . . the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He his voice came out in a little purr, Butch's bright blue eyes narrowing and Dorrien's lips stretched into a smirk.
Before he had the chance to realize and take in the situation, Dorrien was pinned to the floor, his back hurting and Butch on top of him, holding him down by his wrists. He realized after a moment of his own panting that Butch had perhaps tackled him down to the floor, out of anger of course. Luckily they hadn't hit the nearby table and ended up with a concussion. In any other situation, Dorrien would have blushed, but this was a game of sorts, and Dorrien had learned enough in the wastes to win this.
"Take it back!" He yelled, and Dorrien eyed him, his eyes wide for a moment before he turned his head away, shaking his arms in an attempt to get them free – testing his bondage.
"Why should I?" He asked when he brought his eyes back to Butch's, his own eyes challenging and sharp.
"Stop being an ass, Dorrien, I didn't come here to fight with you." Butch still sounded angry, but Dorrien did manage to find the truth in his words.
"You were an ass throughout our childhood. Why can't I be one now?" He asked, with a hint of a growl in the undertone of his voice.
Butch looked as though he was about to respond, his lips parting and his eyes averting, but then he sighed and shook his head, letting the boy go, but still straddling his waist as he sat up, brushing his fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry, Butchie. You know that. I would have capped your ass otherwise."
Butch glanced down at him, and then crawled off him, allowing him to sit up. That was another difference that Butch managed to notice. Sure, Dorrien had those mean tendencies before, but never to this extent. Usually, it seemed that he feared what Butch would do to him if he kept going with the insults, but now, he was too confident with himself to let the idea of Butch being angry affect him. Dorrien stretched his arms above his head, and then yawned again, glancing at Butch's Pip-boy for the time. His two companions should be at least almost in the marketplace. Dorrien chuckled to himself at the thought.
"What's so funny?" Butch asked, thinking that it had something to do with him.
"The marketplace here doesn't open until eight, so Charon and Dogmeat are still waiting outside the door." He shook his head and stood up, holding out a hand for Butch to take, but he rejected it, pushing himself up on his own.
"You named your dog Dogmeat?" Butch asked, and Dorrien shook his head.
"It was on his collar when I found him, which is weird enough."
"Found him?" Butch sat down on the bed again, and Dorrien sat next to him, folding his hands in his lap.
"After I left the Vault, I went to Megaton, and eventually, I found Dogmeat in the Scrapyard. His owner was killed by raiders."
Butch was silent for a moment, but didn't comment on the dog. At least Dogmeat took kinder to him than Charon did.
"Are you staying here today?" Butch asked, and Dorrien had to think for a moment on the things that he still had to do. For one, he still needed to get the G.E.C.K, but that was most certainly going to wait. And he had to finish looking for Lucy West's brother. Basically, there was a lot he had to do, and he still promised that he'd check on Big Town.
"I doubt I'll be staying here today, but I will be coming back to sleep, maybe. It depends on what place I'm closer to when I'm done for the day."
Butch nodded in understanding, then shot a grin in the wanderer's direction. Dorrien scooted away at the expression, not liking the suddenness of it.
"Remember how I said I'd let you join my new gang?"
"Yes, Butch," Dorrien rolled his eyes, wanting to disagree with the idea again.
"Well how about I let you join my gang now, and I help you around the wastes. Ya know, since you're too much of a goody-two-shoe to do anything interesting."
Dorrien wanted to comment on how he had survived thus far without a problem and that the 'interesting' way wasn't always the most logical plan, but hey, that was how Butch's mind always worked, and Dorrien liked that about him. He shook his head, smiling faintly, finding Butch's whole idea relatively cute.
"No, I'm fine with my own little gang for now, Butch." Dorrien checked his Pip-Boy again then sighed, chewing on his lower lip anxiously.
Butch pouted, and shook his head, as if not understanding why the other male would deny his company. He figured it had to do with not believing that he'd be about to live out in the wastes, or serve as any form of protection – since Dorrien obviously needed protection. Why else would he have a ghoul bodyguard following him around? Butch didn't think that perhaps he got lonely. Dorrien didn't meet Charon for a while, actually. He was mostly just with Dogmeat. It took a lot to find Charon, and even more to get him – well not that much – he didn't kill anyone.
"Come on, Nosebleed, you know you'd rather be out there with me than—"
Dorrien raised a brow, folding his hands in his lap, rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand, humming to himself – cutting Butch off in the process as he thought. It wouldn't be too bad if he brought Butch with him, but he felt that he'd be a distraction, not only that, he had been out of the Vault for less than a day, and he wasn't sure how helpful he'd be anyhow. His eyes averted and he shook his head.
"What kind of weapon did you use to get here?" He asked and Butch shrugged.
"A 10mm that Gomez gave me and my toothpick, why?" Butch didn't understand the relevance of it, at first.
Dorrien was a sniper, and an avid lover of plasma weapons – but his prized weapon was the Victory Rifle. If asked to, he could write an entire novel on his plans to marry the rifle and find a way to produce beautiful, well aimed children by it – and name them all weird names that had nothing to do with their parents because that would, of course be strange. He was never sure where his love of plasma weapons came from though, but he didn't question it. It might have just been his love of turning things into glowing green sludge.
"Ever use anything bigger, like a rifle or shotgun?" Of course he hadn't, Dorrien just wanted to know what his response would be.
"Nah, I don't need anything like that." Butch responded with the upmost confidence, but Dorrien didn't buy it.
"I beg to differ. I'll teach you how to use both, later, and then we'll talk about whether I need your manly form of manliness to protect me in the big bad wasteland." Dorrien joked, standing and walking towards the door, and Butch got up to follow him.
"You're leaving now?" Butch seemed bothered by this, but his expression only showed it for a second or so.
"Yeah, I'm meeting my companions on the way back, then we're gonna go to a couple of different places." Dorrien shrugged, not wanting to go into detail, as there was no point. He doubted that Butch would know any place that he could possibly name.
Butch followed after him, only a foot or so away then stopped at the door when Dorrien opened it and stepped out.
"Don't come back too late, Nosebleed," he managed a smirk, and Dorrien turned back to face him, already halfway down the hall, "you still gonna let me teach you how to really use those guns."
Dorrien laughed to himself, waving a hand to the Tunnel Snake and then pausing for a moment, pondering on something that stopped Butch from walking out himself and back to the Muddy Rudder, where he had stayed for the amount of time he had been there.
"You know you can stay in there until I come back; I don't mind. Just don't break anything. There are some caps in the filing cabinet if you want to go and buy something."
Dorrien had caps stashed everywhere – almost literally. It was the same way in his Megaton house; he put caps in random places just so that if he ever needed anything, rather than searching all over for caps, he could just about find them anywhere. He honestly had a ton of caps from selling random junk that he acquired – stole – from different places – people's homes. But he was a good boy, mostly, not really. He had never gotten caught, which was a good thing.
Butch offered a little grin, and returned to the room, closing the door behind him. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was going to look for the caps – as he had eaten before he came to the room – but it was nice that Dorrien even offered it to him. He wondered briefly if he would have done the same. It didn't matter, as honestly Butch didn't think that the roles would ever be switched. He found himself on the bed again, laying himself down on his back, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, his smirk content.
"Charon, we're leaving." Dorrien placed a hand to the ghoul's shoulder, perhaps startling him, but he couldn't tell.
He was holding a box of sugar bombs in his hands, which he then handed to Dorrien. Dogmeat sniffed around the young wander's legs, and then rested his nose against his calf, panting to himself. With a smile, the wanderer turned and started walking up the metal stairs that led toward the exit, his companions following without saying much about it.
It was a long walk to Big Town – Dorrien just nearly resorting to having Charon carry him the rest of the way there, which was half way. Charon refusing, mumbling that it wasn't part of his contract, but Dogmeat seemed more receptive to the idea. Dorrien just couldn't do that to his dog. It was hotter than usual, and in the tight armor, the red head sighed, pushing his bangs back to rest a top his head, allowing his forehead to feel more of the breeze. Behind his goggles, he saw a figure in the distance (though he honestly wouldn't have been surprised if it was a mirage and upon getting closer, he would see a scantily clad muscular male offering him Stimpaks and Med-X). He rolled his eyes, though continued to walk toward the being – it was rather shadowy from the distance, and he pulled his plasma rifle from its holster, just in case.
The figure then took off in a run towards them, and Dorrien stopped suddenly, aiming the gun towards the human. He heard Dogmeat's growl, and the wanderer blinked his focus clear, then at seeing who it was, he more eagerly went to grasp at the trigger.
"Wait, stop!" She yelled, holding her hands up in defense, a confused look on her blonde brow.
She was wearing the guard attire this time, he noted as he forced he gun down to his side, motioning a hand toward Dogmeat to show that he didn't need to attack, yet. Susie Mack ran the rest of the way over, stopping a couple feet from the taller male, and his eyes narrowing slightly at her. He was hoping the find the residents of the vault dead. She didn't seem to notice his discontent, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. At this, he stiffened, though noticed she smelled cleaner. He rolled his eyes, and once she let him go, he crossed his arms, still holding the gun in his grip.
"Why aren't you dead?" He spoke with a bit of a snarl, and she seemed taken back by this. Dorrien eyed the assault rifle at her back, and then shook his head.
"I – I . . ." she stammered for a moment, "You're not the only one who can survive out here, Dorrien."
"I wasn't saying that. There are plenty of other people out here, Susie – I was just hoping that a stray bullet—"
"Why are you being such an ass, Dorrien?" Her tone rose, and Dorrien shifted his weight to one hip, attempting to distract his hand.
"Wouldn't you if you were kicked out of the place you thought of as home? It's better out here anyway. No stupid leaders, no enclosures, and no stupid whores that assume that just because we're in the wasteland together means that we have to like each other." It was the Med-X withdrawal; he was starting to realize it. Even if he didn't like her, he never would have said anything like that, well, not to her face.
"Well! Maybe I'll go find Butch then. He has to be nicer than you are." She went to walk past him, and Dorrien followed her with his eyes, shaking his gun back in forth in his hand. He raised it to eye level, closing one eye, and fingered the trigger. One headshot and she's be dead.
Charon placed his hand to the top of the gun, lowering it to the young male's torso. With a sigh, Dorrien nodded and turned to follow the other male, letting him lead so that he could get his thoughts straight – or mostly straight.
"Who was she?" Charon asked in his gravely voice, though didn't look at the younger male when he spoke to him.
"Susie Mack. She lived in the Vault with me, and I never really liked her. She teased me for a while – not as bad as Butch, of course – and I never thought that she liked me either. I'm not sure." The feeling of her hug crawled across his skin like the feeling of leeches attempting to get at his blood. He squirmed, and placed his gun back in his holster, breathing quickly, but not really realizing it.
"Why did you want to shoot her?" He prodded more, and Dorrien shrugged his lanky shoulders, sighing out a low sound.
"I'm not sure, really." – It was the drugs, he added in his head, but still didn't fully come to terms with it. Sure, withdrawal sucked, and could make him violent, but that didn't mean that he had to shoot her pretty little blonde head off.
It would be amusing to see it roll across the ground, though of course, that would only happen if she didn't turn to goo (with would also be rather funny). He refused to allow himself to take a Med-X, trying to break the habit, as it were, but going cold turkey never worked. One day, he remembered overhearing Butch telling his goons that his mother had tried it with her alcohol, and of course ended up locking herself in her room with multiple bottles of whiskey. It was different; he thought in his attempt to rationalize, the drugs actually helped him. Alcohol just made a person stupid for long periods of time. Sure, it made a person more charismatic, but Dorrien was a master with words, and could charm a woman's skirt up to her navel – even with the fact that he wasn't attracted to them.
Everyone needs an ego stroke now and then.
When Big Town finally came into view, Dorrien broke out in a pathetic attempt at a run, his limps flailing around like a collision glitch, though he was moving at a rather fast speed. Charon shook his head at this and quickened his pace, watching Dogmeat run after his Master. It was funny, but he didn't exactly last. When he finally rounded the bend and made it on to the bridge – which was still littered with dead Super Mutants – he noticed Dorrien rolling around on the ground, screaming something or another about how long it took to get there, and how he swore that it was moving farther away with however many steps he had taken. Red finally managed to get him off the ground, and she hugged his loosely.
"Dorrien, are you alright?" She asked, and Dorrien paused for a moment, as he if he didn't understand.
"I'm fine, other than it being hot." But that went without saying.
"No, your eyes are dilated." She placed a hand to the younger male's face, pulling his face a little closer to get a better look at his hazel eyes. When she went to pull his goggles up he flinched and backed away, laughing nervously.
"Aha, no I'm fine." He backed away, and she stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. "It's probably because I went to the vault recently, and my eyes are confused . . ."
Which sounded extremely uneducated, even for someone who was so good with words; he would slap himself over that later. With a nod – Dorrien was extremely surprised that she bought that – and motioned for him to follow her into the makeshift clinic. He walked after her, hoping that there would be no more questions, and luckily they weren't. She only called him to supply him with more drugs, though only two Med-X in the stash of items. While continuing to look around, the younger male was then grabbed from behind, staggering forward but managing to catch his footing, mostly by grabbing a hold of Charon.
"You came back!" The high pitched, too feminine voice rang in his ears and he groaned in displeasure, turning his head to see the smiling face of Bittercup.
His eyes rolled and he grasped her hands, on prying him from around his waist. She grabbed his hands again once he turned to face her and he sighed, not liking this ritual every time he came to Bigtown. She was convinced that they were dating; even though Dorrien expressed multiple times that he was not interested in her or women – especially her. She never seemed to listen however.
"What is it now, Bittercup?" He asked with a sigh, not liking his luck with women that day, especially blondes, but that was a different scenario.
"I found something for you yesterday." She opened his palms and handed him a few rounds of 10mm ammunition, which he did thank her for, even though he rarely used that gun. Ah well.
"Now can you leave me alon—"
"So how have you been out in the wasteland? Have you missed me? Did you bring me anything?" She spoke extremely fast, and Dorrien stared at her with the slightest hint of amusement as he handed the ammunition over to Charon to be stored.
Dogmeat began growling at Bittercup, biting at her leg. She screamed, clinging to her "boyfriend" whom was seconds away from just pushing her over to his dog, but he wasn't usually that cruel. He rolled his eyes, and shook his head at Dogmeat, calming him enough. He was as irritated as Dorrien was. Charon didn't seem to be bothered much, as far as the young wanderer could tell. God, it just felt as though he couldn't move anywhere without being distracted by something. Butch specifically halting his motility when they were in the room together, but that was extremely literally – and perhaps figuratively as well. It was surprising that he was thinking about him even then. Bittercup waved a hand in taller male's face, and he blinked behind the goggles and glanced over at her.
"What?" He asked, his voice a little raspy. He'd need water soon.
"You didn't answer my questions." She whined a bit and he rolled his eyes again, prying her from his torso.
"No, to all of them but the first one; I've been fine. I was just coming to check up on everyone. Seeing that you're all fine, I suppose I can leave for a while." And he was honestly ready to leave, but Bittercup grabbed his hand and tugged him back with a bit of surprising strength.
"What?" He snapped, and she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting out her lower lip, covered in a red chalky substance that he remembered her saying that she used as lipstick.
"Don't forget to come back . . ." She finally said after a long moment of her staring, and then she offered a smile and walked away. Dorrien rolled his eyes at this and waved a hand nonchalantly for his companions to follow.
Yawning softly, the boy was walking a little faster, mostly in an attempt to make it back to Rivet City before it became too dark to see anymore. He hated traveling when it was dark – all the creatures he hated to see came out more frequently, and the shuffling of a branch against the ground sounded too distinctly like the crawling of a radscorpion ready to dig it's stinger into his back. He shuddered out a pathetic little sound at this, speeding up into a jog, his body being fit enough from all the traveling to handle that kind of work. Walking all day did good for the legs – and when ever he was alone in Megaton, he would compliment himself on how amazing he looked without clothing on, but that wouldn't be admitted to anyone, unless they saw it for themselves.
Halfway back, he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a short drag, his eyes were shifting two and fro anxiously as he waved his gun in his hand, his skin crawling. Charon tried to tell him that there was nothing out, and even if there was, it would have been seen because it was dusk and the sun was still out enough to illuminate the ground, but Dorrien was convinced that someone was watching them. There were little bugs running across his skin, under his flesh and racing blood vessels with speeds that made his eyes close quiet suddenly and his feet stop. He trembled, dropping the gun with a soft click a shot of plasma shooting out and landing in a glob on the ground a few feet away.
"Make it stop!" He screamed, and Charon ran to his side, gripping his shoulders and shaking him, his eyes were unfocused and locked on the ground, and the ghoul could tell that he was breaking out into a sweat.
"Dorrien, make what stop?" Charon managed to keep his voice leveled, but Dogmeat was barking extremely loudly, as if frantic.
"The bugs . . . crawling on me . . ." he panted, jittering restlessly in the other male's hands. Surprisingly the cigarette still remained between his fingers.
Charon realized that it was probably the drugs again. With a sigh, he picked up Dorrien's gun, placing it back into his holster, whilst holding the boy with one arm, then picked the boy up into his arms, cradling them for a moment before he continued walking. Dogmeat growled, knowing that the other male didn't like being carried, but the ghoul shushed the animal. Dorrien was whimpering out nonsense, his eyes closing tight as he shifted his form as close to the ghoul's armor as he could, though it was warm, and that seemed to frighten him too. Charon honestly felt sorry for him, but he couldn't do anything, and stealing his Med-X would just make the withdrawal symptoms worse.
Nothing eventful happened on the way back. Dorrien eventually fell asleep in the ghoul's arms, though he mumbled in his sleep; words about his father, on the vault, and the occasional murmurings about the drugs and the bugs scattering under his skin and to his heart, constricting it with their presence. Charon propped the smaller male up against the door once they reached Rivet City, wanting to get him inside before it became too dark, but the sun was already gone, and they weren't able to get in through the Marketplace any longer. He reached into the pouch on the red head's chest, and grabbed a Med-X, and grabbed the other male's arm. For a moment, the ghoul contemplated really doing this, as he knew that it was bad for him, but the boy would hate him for taking him to a doctor instead. Shaking his head, and being urged on by Dogmeat's growling, he injected the syringe through the boy's armor, hoping that it went into a vein, but not being completely sure. The boy squirmed irritably at the feeling, but otherwise didn't disagree, probably because he was only semi-conscious. After tossing the empty needle to the side, Charon picked the boy up again, carrying him to his hotel room, but completely forgetting about the male that was there before they had left.
"What happened to him?" There was a yell first, the other male jumping to his feet from where he was sitting on the bed. He had stayed there this entire time?
Charon was silent, not knowing how to explain, and not wanting to explain to this male anyway. He glared at him, and walked him over to the bed, laying him down and pulling the goggles down from his face and letting them hang from his neck. Butch only started to yell louder.
"Are you gonna answer me or not?" He walked up, grabbing the taller ghoul by the shoulder and spinning him around.
"He's sleeping." He succinctly stated, then walked past the fuming Tunnel Snake, who then brought his eyes to the sleeping wanderer.
His lips were parted slightly, and he was breathing extremely hard, as if he couldn't catch his breath. His hands were flexing slowly, and he seemed rather distressed. His brows knitted together while he slept, and he seemed to jerk every so often. Butch wanted to wake him, but with the ghoul there he was sure that he would never hear the end of it. He sat down on the bed, next to the sleeping boy, then glared up at the ghoul again, who was sitting on a nearby chair, just watching. The dog hand wandered over, pressing his wet nose against the boy's leg, whimpering softly.
"What happened?" He asked, trying for a calmer attitude, hoping he'd get an answer. There was nothing but the sound of Dorrien's deep breathing.