"Good as new." Mitchell's bedside manner was impressive, to say the least. Angelita was a kind young soul and meshed easily with the doctor who was simply happy to help her. He told jokes and laughed, genuinely. "So how'd you come across a man like that?"
"Can he hear us?" Angelita sat up on the bed and peaked out into the living room before setting her eyes back on the doctor. "I have family on the strip."
"Way up in New Vegas? Forgive me, but you don't look the part young lady." Mitchell sat back with his hands on his knees and narrowed his eyes at her. "You look like you'd fit right in this town without anyone batting an eyelash."
"It's true!" She perked up for just a second, causing Adam to turn his head towards the room. Either hand was thrown over her mouth as she continued. "My father's brother lives there. He recruits talent—I can sing."
"Is that so? I'd love to hear it sometime." The doctor smiled while he sat back in his chair. "How and you don't owe me any caps?"
Angelita was excited. At that point in her life she had done nothing but live under the careful guidance of her parents, who decidedly dressed her in overly large clothing and muddied her face whenever possible. She was a gorgeous young thing, a curse that would attract the attention of any male that was equipped to mate with the female of the species. Mitchell understood such a thing and had already formed doubts about why Adam was being so kind to the young girl, but he set aside for the time being. True to her name, the little messenger carried a perfectly constructed tune. It was a Spanish song, one rich in religious undertones but nonetheless pleasant to the ears. Though her namesake had roots in the language and she was there, singing it proudly, Angelita couldn't speak it if she tried. The lyrics were recalled from memory—a soft song that her mother lulled her to sleep with each night when she was a young girl.
"Amazing," Mitchell clapped excitedly for her, even going so far as to stand up. "I'll have to make a trip to the strip once you're famous. Maybe I'll even hear you on the radio someday—you've got the talent for it all."
"You really think so?"
"Of course!"
"She'll have to get there first." Arms crossed, Adam lounged in the doorway and stared down over the pair. "You're awfully excited about a song old man; I'm surprised those ears still have use. Hell, you can't hear what I have to say half the time."
"Selective hearing, my friend." Mitchell turned to face Adam. "She's fine, but I'd suggest staying in town for the evening. She's tired."
"Is the building down the road still empty?"
"Yes, but,"
"Let's go, Angelita." Adam didn't bother letting the doctor finish, he already knew what he was going to say. There'd be an announcement that he had enough room to spare and he'd insist that she stay there. With his rucksack in hand he moved over to the young woman and took her hand. "Come on."
Angelita nodded and thanked the doctor again before they pushed out of the house and began the walk down the hill. Darkness was looming and he wasn't about to take an inexperienced wastelander through the darkness towards the strip. She was far too much of a liability to begin with, without even considering the fact that every raider from there to the horizon would want to throw her in chains and show her off.
An empty house was selected for the evening, one that still held every last amenity that the rest of the homes had, albeit a bit dirtier with no resident to clean it up. The original owner had probably been killed by geckos or bandits—whatever the reason was none of their concern. It was a simple home: a bathroom, a kitchen and bedroom, barely any place to stretch your legs. Nevertheless, it was better than holing up in an abandoned bus with land mines set around in case someone decided to try and sneak up on you.
"Are you hungry?" Adam inquired while he tossed his things down in the bedroom and began to peel layers of clothing off of his body. Most of it was of his own creation, notably the Sheriff's duster that was lined with Kevlar and other body armor variants. The signature star had been stitched over, less he incur unnecessary attention for being some sort of figurehead for law. He stripped down all the way to his pants, which appeared to be coming off when he pushed them down but only so much as to clear the debris in his waistline.
"A little."
Adam rummaged through his things and pulled out a small bottle of purified water along with an Iguana on a stick. Both were set out for her. "Enjoy."
It wasn't her mother's cooking but she ate and felt sated. She took her time, watching Adam's movement through her bites as he dusted off the bed as best he could and used his duster as a barrier between himself and the mattress. There was only one bed in the house and he was taking up the vast majority of it—though all the same he appeared to be doing his best to take up residence on one side. Even his duster, which she admittedly would rather sleep on than the old mattress was stretched out across, leaving just enough space for her to curl up on. It was with hesitation that she finished the small dinner and made her way over to the bed. In no way did she exercise the need to get comfortable when she slid onto the mattress and placed her back to him. Sleep would not come easy for her; each time she closed her eyes the image of dead bodies flooded her memories, which quickly became intermingled with the last images of her father and her mother's demand that she run. Eventually, she turned to face Adam, bare chest and all, and curled up tightly against him.
The very second light began to creep in through the windows Adam woke up. His eyes shot up and the grog that overwhelmed most people was fought off immediately. Three seconds and he was wide awake, ready to move and kill if need be. It was a result of constantly sleeping with one eye open; he learned to get the most out of his sleep without becoming as vulnerable as Angelita was at that very moment. She'd gone from trying to touch him as little as possible to sleeping against to practically clawing at his sides to get closer. There were dry spots on his chest, salty tears having been spilled over the course of the night.
"Time to go." Adam pulled away from her and nudged her awake. The moment her eyes open he pulled away from her and began to dress. By the time she was just standing to stretch, Adam was ready to walk out of the door.
"Where are we going?"
"Actually," Adam paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned to her. "What was that about you being a singer on the strip? They don't just let anyone get on the strip, you've got to have the caps to be there and you don't look like you've got the caps."
"Well," She cleared her throat. "My uncle isn't actually on the strip… he's in Freeside—but I'm supposed to sing for him there. If we can get enough caps up we were going to go to the strip and try to make it big there."
"So you're traveling across the Mojave to become a famous singer in Vegas? Most people would say you don't have a ghost of a chance." Adam squeezed the doorknob and twisted, pulling the door open. "Let's go."
Angelita hesitated. Her parents had made it sound like such a sure thing that she had never thought to question whether or not she wouldn't be able to make it. The doctor, a complete stranger, was enamored with her voice, but now she was questioning whether or not it would all be worth it. Somewhere she found the strength to stand and made her way out of the door with Adam followed behind her. For a moment she waited for him to direct her to where they were going, but he took the initiative and simply began to walk.
"A few rules, Angelita." Adam began to walk north out of Goodsprings, his eyes on the horizon and the long journey that was ahead of them. "You're going to have to do everything I say, no matter how much you may want to say no. You say no and I leave you on the side of the road for the first asshole to come pick up."
Adam paused and turned back to her. "Actually that's the only rule."
A small shrug and they were walking again. Silence set between the two of them while they moved through the Mojave. It was the perfect time to be on the move—the cool night air hadn't been overwhelmed by the searing heat yet. It'd arrive soon, but they'd be able to cover a fairly large amount of ground before dehydration became an issue.
"Why are you doing this?" With Goodsprings well out of sight and Angelita doing her best to keep up with Adam she inquired. "You could've left me while I was asleep. You could've done that twice come to think of it."
"I'm not doing this for free. If your uncle's gonna get you an entertainment spot somewhere in Freeside, then he's bound to have a decent amount of caps." It was that simple for Adam.
It made Angelita's heart sink just a bit. The man hadn't exactly attempted to endear himself to her and any hope that she might have had that he was merely being a good person was thrown out of the window. It was as her parents had taught her: everyone in the wasteland was out for themselves or their family—not for you. She accepted his terms and didn't bother getting upset; there wasn't any point in doing so.
Shockingly enough the trip was uneventful for the first hour or so, though Adam was clearly displeased with the slow pace he had to endure with escorting her. By time they reached Whittaker Farmstead everything was turned upside down.
Adam reached behind him and grabbed Angelita by her shirt, tugging her down to the ground behind a wide rock once the farmstead came into view. The plan was to take a wide circle around it from the south and move into the network of streets that led to Vegas and the outer-lying neighborhoods, but there was a incomparable wrench thrown into the plan—a Deathclaw. Massive, stronger than any group of men and perfectly capable of becoming the top of the food chain under the right circumstances, the creature was busy tearing into a grip of unfortunate Powder Gangers. Adam pulled his rifle from around his shoulder and propped it up against the car, getting a better look through his scope.
The men were being torn apart; limbs ripped from their places with shocking ease. One of them men was even ripped in two—legs flying one way while his torso thudded against the small house where the men had come out of. Angelita screamed. It was one quick screech that was silenced by Adam jamming his palm over her mouth, but it was enough. The wall of muscle and death, caked in blood and flesh, jerked its head around in their direction and stared.
Adam was lined up a shot, using the car to steady himself while he fished around the back of his rucksack to retrieve a more potent weapon. Even with all five shots in the magazine delivered on target, it was no guarantee that the Deathclaw would go down. Hell, it wasn't even a guarantee that it would make the creature stammer and give him time to reload.
The exchange lasted all of ten seconds. Rather than go for the head as he had done with the raiders, Adam unloaded onto one of the Deathclaw's legs. The entire magazine was delivered on target, rendering the massive, muscular creature to a staggered limp—but it was still charging towards them, even more intensely than it had been before. The grenade followed; the small explosive was tossed right into its path and detonated. Adam pulled Angelita into the side of the car with him, shielding her from the debris that kicked up albeit not from the mess of dirt that showered them. However, it wasn't dead—simply reduced to dragging its body across the desert floor and eventually up to the car. Angelita ran. No manner of strength could be mustered to prevent her from fleeing with the massive beast hulking over the car and reaching over for them.
Adam pulled a combat knife from a sheath along the small of his back and jammed the blade into the Deathclaw's eye socket. He twisted and grinded the blade until the hilt was pressing against the socket itself and the creature was left as nothing more than a twisting, writhing mass. Rifle in hand, he took off in the direction that Angelita had ran and found her cowering behind a pair of discarded boxes. Just as he had done in Goodsprings, he took her by the upper arm and lifted.
"Let's go."