He's a Tramp
Three months after the courier takes over New Vegas, she becomes aware of the consequences of her actions. Or rather, the consequences of sleeping with Benny.
Chapter Two
By the time the elevator doors slid open in the casino, Sally had calmly informed Veronica of the situation at hand. And, to say that the former-Brotherhood of Steel scribe was happy, was an understatement.
Pregnancies in the Mojave Wastelands weren't as uncommon as they once had been, but they were usually extremely dangerous to the woman and fetus, being that it was difficult to eat healthy. But, Sally was the Queen of New Vegas, she had all the resources of the city at her fingertips, including the Followers of the Apocalypse.
"Oh, this is so great, Sally! Minus that you're going to get all fat because of it but we'll find clothes to fit you." -Here Arcade snorted- "Oh! Imagine it! A little girl or boy! Can I be its godmother? No, wait, I want to be Auntie Veronica! Can I be Auntie Veronica? Oh, this is going to be so awesome."
Sally stepped out of the elevator, the happily ranting Veronica at her side, smiling a little at her companion's enthusiasm. "Veronica, calm down. I'm only two months along, we still have quite a few more to go. And yes, you can be Auntie Veronica."
"Two months along?" A muffled voice cut in and Sally moved her attention to the other figures in the casino, folding her arms over her chest.
The Lucky 38 hadn't been open to the public-Sally wasn't sure if she even wanted to at this point-and was left as she had found it. People who wanted to speak to her were only permitted to when she held meetings at The King's School of Impersonation (It was the only place were everyone could come, free of charge and safely, and the King never seemed to mind playing host to these meetings), otherwise the unspoken rule was to leave her messages with her new Securitron, James Dean, and she'd get back to then when she could.
Sally eyed the speaker, studying him silently. "Stand down Dean, Victor. This guy's a friend."
The two Securitron's dropped their guns to their sides, having had them warily pointed at the unknown (to them) man, who was seated on the stairs that led to the 'pitted' casino area.
"Yes ma'am."
"You're hardly old enough to be called ma'am, Sally." The man peered up at Sally before standing. "But, I suppose you need to be treated with respect now. Still, I would've figured you to be calling yourself Queen Sally, now." There was a teasing tone to that muffled voice.
"Rice, it is only because you've known me since we were young that I'll let that comment pass." Sally quipped back.
Sally's sharp eyes studied the man before her, mentally comparing what she could see of the man to what she remembered of her childhood friend.
He was taller than she remembered (to give her some credit, it had been eight years since she'd left her tribe to venture West, plus there was always the fact that she had been shot in the head) and wore a simple (extremely dirty) black duster, brown pants and presumably once white shirt, all of which were covered in all sorts of dust, dirt, grime and bloodstains.
A helmet-much like the ones the Legonaire recruits had worn-was on his head, his hair (Sally remembered it being a dark red-brown color) probably tucked inside. There was an eyepatch on his right eye and a dark, stained bandanna covered the lower half of his face. What parts of his face that weren't covered by the bandanna or eyepatch were so caked in dust and dirt that his usual 'war makeup' (which, as Sally recalled, was a dark greasy substance that he caked onto his face in a dark band that went across both his eyes) was indistinguishable from the rest of the dirt caked onto his face.
Most notably, the cleanest thing on the fellow was an old pip-boy was worn on his right wrist.
Sally laughed and stepped down the stairs. "Its good to see you, Rice." She enveloped the strange man in a hug, ignoring the smell and dirt that clung to him like a second skin.
"Ah, but its better to see you, my little Sally. You look well." The man stepped back.
"I would say as do you but I can't really tell much from you. Other that you smell. Terrible."
The man laughed again, shoulders shaking in amusement, and he pulled down the bandanna, exposing a layer of slightly cleaner skin, some dark stubble and a pair of scarred lips. "Well, you know me. Always the first to fall into radiated puddles and the like. And, I've been wandering around this godddessforesaken desert for a good few days. There are no real good landmarks are around here, you know. Makes me miss the Capital Wasteland." He sighed, sounding wistful. "And your radio sucks by the way."
Sally laughed again and shook her head. "No one can compete with Three-Dog, I know." A knowing, mischievous look appeared on her face. "Especially in bed, from what I hear."
"Ooh, definitely not in bed." Rice laughed before turning sober awfully quick. "So, two months along?" His single, dark green eye flickered to Sally's belly.
"Yeah..." Sally crossed her arms over her belly, almost self-conscious. "Funny story, that one is. But it can wait, if you would like to come upstairs and clean up."
"Goddess yes, please."