I found Dukov's place pretty well exactly where Crowley said it would be, which was a relief considering that we had just basically walked in a big stupid circle.
Upon seeing Dukov's digs with its good bones and abundant supplies of every variety, I decided that I'd kill two birds with one stone by not only offing the slimy fucker as I had originally come to do but also taking over his place for a bit to relax which seemed like more of a reward than Crowley would be able to provide. I convinced myself that I'd do this one thing and then try to avoid situations like it again. I'd kill the guy and his whores, let loose, get fucked up and then go straight once and for all.
I instructed Charon to stay outside and didn't waste any time before shooting Dukov in the head with my silenced 10mm at point blank, followed by his whores. I stripped them of their snazzy nighties and dragged their bodies into the bathroom where I cleverly sealed all of them in a stall one on top of the other while whistling along with some song I'd heard before on Galaxy Radio.

After the dirty deed was done I cracked the door for Charon and invited him in.

"I think we deserve a vacation." I said. "
Let's take a day or two to recharge What do ya say?."

"As you wish." He replied, looking around, as wary as ever.

"Try not to sound so excited."

As per usual he insisted on securing the building despite my insistence of it's safety. He of course found the bodies in the bathroom on one of his patrols
and the man from the 9th circle gave me the 3rd degree yet again.

"These bodies are still warm."

"Wasn't me."

"Then who?"

"I don't know, Charon. Raiders."

"Then this place is not safe. Raiders must have found a hidden entrance."

"Yeah, that's probably it."

"Why do you lie to me when all I am trying to do is ensure your safety?"

"Fine. They attacked me first and I had to defend myself."

"I did not hear any shots."

"They came at me with...knives."

"I have searched this place and not seen a knife."

"Well they're somewhere. I don't know. How is this relevant?"

"Where did you kill them? Perhaps the knives slid under something."

"So I killed them upstairs. So what?"

"Show me where the knives were dropped."

"Why is this important?"

"Where are the knives they attacked with?"

"Charon! What the fuck do you want from me to tell you?"

His jaw muscles clenched in silence and when he turned his back on me to walk away I didn't know what else to do except storm upstairs like a spoiled teenager being sent to her room.
I cracked open a bottle of whiskey, took a swig and ended up choking on it and spitting it all over the place as it went down my trachea and up my nasal passage rather than down my throat.
Here I was, treed by my so-called "servant" who was actually less a servant than he was a surly overlord training me like a dog through negative and positive reinforcement.
If only old Ahzrukhal could see his boy now.

I sat upstairs and moped for a good long while wondering why I was allowing this to happen. Maybe I just needed to take charge and stop fretting about what would happen if and when I ever lost his contract. Maybe it'd be better if he put me out of my misery anyways. It's not like I was useful to anyone or anything, quite the opposite actually.
Fast forward a few hours later and I was still upstairs, now parading around in a blood speckled pink slip for the hell of it, raiding the fridge and drinking/jetting my face off while Charon sat downstairs, still reed straight by the door, idly running his fingers over the gun in his lap.

I moseyed down the stairs, one fist full of jet, another grasping 2 bottles of booze.

"Hey. Charon. Truce. Ok?"

He just grunted at me.

"Stand down." I said.

" Wait. Yeah. I order you to stand down."

He begrudgingly placed his shotgun on a table within arm's reach and settled stiffly.
"Fine. But I still don't like the look of this place."

"You don't like the look of any place!"

I collapsed on the couch next to him, inhaled an ampule of jet and leaned back, thinking of how gratifying it was to do a hit of jet without my boots on. I wiggled my toes and stretched out contentedly. The jet massaged my brain making the yellow light bouncing off the stone walls look like prismatic sunlight cascasing over rock crystal and my skin reacted as invisible air currents carressed it like tony hairs of cool water. As my high wore down, I looked over at Charon. He looked uneasy. But he usually looked uneasy.

"Charon."

"What."

"The people who lived here before said that nothing bothered them here so you can relax."

His jaw muscles clenched.

"Just don't. The guy was a sleaze ball and he had it coming. Don't paint me out to be some kind of boogeyman just because I'm trying to survive."
I playfully sidled up to him and pushed a bottle into his massive hand.

"Drink with me." I said

He took a good long drink and only tensed slightly when I boldly put my head on his shoulder and folded my arms across his chest

"Is it really true that ghouls need twice as much jet to get off?"

Charon cleared his throat, mumbled something unintelligible and looked at me sideways.
"Aren't you cold?"

"Nope. Aren't you warm?"

He stared straight ahead and took another long drink.

"Why don't you take off your armor?"

"If that's what you wish, then I will-"

"Yeah yeah. Heard it before. Take off your armor. Relax for once. And yes. That's an order."

He stood up and mechanically slid off his shoulder armor, reached an arm over to his back and unbuckled the suit rolling it down to his waist revealing a threadbare black shirt underneath.
He glared at me while he undid one belt buckle and then another, peeled the leather away from him and then to my surprise removed everything else he was wearing and proceeded to stand before me completely unclothed.

His leathery skin pulled taught over his gauntness, every contour of his sinew and muscle.

The elegance of his tendons as they shifted under his skin

which was not unlike the marble at the Museum of History.
He had called my bluff.
His eyes bored into mine as I tried to take in as much of his glorious form as I could before losing the stand off and averting my gaze to the filthy floor.

He picked up his shotgun and insolently slung it over his shoulder with one hand as he snorted at me in contempt.

"Like I said before." He said as he started up the stairs.
"If you're too tender to get stung then don't shake the goddamn hive, kid." he called down.

I sat there for about 5 dumbstruck, trying to think of a comeback . 5 minutes turned into 10 and I had yet come up with anything so I just drank. The tables had been turned so fast it made my head spin.
He had exposed me to be the pretender that I didn't even know I was and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle a sniffle as a tear or two fought to escape from my once swollen head.

I composed myself, huffed another hit of jet, slammed back a shot, wiped my face and pursued him upstairs where I found him crashed out in a single bed tucked behind a Nuka Cola machine in the corner.
I was fairly certain that he had kind of inviting me to go to bed with him but why would he choose the single bed perfectly fine double bed right across the room?
And a cleaner one with nicer linens on it nonetheless! Goddamnit!
True, it was an improvement of sorts, considering I had only ever seen him sleep sitting up before after in between pacing sessions and the fact that his gun was propped up against the bed rather than in bed with him was also out of the ordinary. He was just infuriating beyond belief in every way and nothing was ever as simple as he tried to pretend everything was.

I stood there agonizing over all the details until my jet wore off and I was too lazy to go downstairs to get more. I stopped caring and jumped into the narrow bed next to him, pushing against him to get him to move over and sidling up next to him pulling his lanky arm over my body, running my fingers over its root-like veins and holding his calloused hand.

His body temperature seemed to be much hotter than my own or anyone else I've been this close to.
The heat surrounding certain areas like under his arm and his groin almost uncomfortably so. It felt like I was sleeping with my back to a bonfire. I turned to face him, watched him as he slept. His breathing was practically inaudible but he seemed asleep enough so I pressed myself into his chest and brought up a hand to his throat marveling at the unexpected hardness of it. I had expected his flesh to be soft somehow. Spongy maybe. On the contrary he felt like leather left in the sun and he begged to be touched.

He grumbled and I froze.

"Out of all the beds in the joint you had to pick this one, huh?"

he said, his voice heavy, swelling from his chest.

"Shut up" I said.
"Just go to sleep."

This time the smile I saw playing on Charon's lips was there without a doubt.

It was the first time I had ever really seen him smile and I fell asleep knowing that the line that needed to be crossed, had been crossed, and things were going to get as interesting as I wanted them to.