Meh, I'm not a fan of how this chapter turned out. I tried to keep Charon sort of... Well, Charon, and I feel like it didn't work this time around.
And hopefully, I stay true to everyone when I finally get my next chapter of Nothing Places up.
Does Nova strike anyone else as really fucking overbearing or is that just me? I know she's not the worst person you encounter in the game, and, all things considered, she's not that bad... But something about her has always bothered me, which seems to be something that, well, nobody else feels. Maybe this is just me having a general dislike for how a majority of women are portrayed in video games, or maybe I'm just reading far too much into it.
I'm also having fun allowing Sallie to kinda explore her personality and such; She hasn't really broken out of being that feigned politeness thing that you need in a vault quite yet. I'm hoping to have that happen before I draw this story to a conclusion and move on to a sequel.
As per usual, reviews are very much appreciated. Especially if you have suggestions.
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours
He's up more than half the night worrying. In a moment of weakness, caused by years of repression and lack of any sort of 'intimacy', he'd slept with his employer. His drunk employer. And it hadn't even been long and drawn out and wild, like his fantasies; Quite the opposite, really. There's no way in fucking hell she'll keep his contract around now; After that, she'll probably think that he's incapable of self control of any sort. Probably use some stupid metaphor about dams only being 'so effective', too, or some shit like that. If he's lucky, she'll just slap him or hit him or something, get him out of his contract (technically, he gets to decide what constitutes 'unacceptable physical violence', and while something like this would normally be acceptable, he'd be free of the damn contract). But with freedom comes problems - the only place he knows of that accepts trade from ghouls without any issue is Underworld, and it's not really worth trekking all the way back there every time his pack is heavy with salvaged goods. There's always the Craterside Supply, seeing as that nut doesn't seem to care if her customers are human, ghoul or dog or some shit; However, the chance of running into Sallie was a little bit too awkward for his taste. He doesn't want to have to leave - he has a relatively steady source of income, and he's with someone he has an ever-growing fondness for - but if it comes down to that, he won't really have a choice. Ironic how freedom would be what really restricted him, took away so many places he could go and stay, all because the moment someone showed him a glance of intimacy or wanting, he apparently couldn't control himself.
Hazarding a glance at the sleeping vault girl, he sighs. The way she's curled against his side, fingers loosely latched onto his wrist, using his arm as a pillow... There's no way he'll be able to get out of bed without waking her. No way he can brush it off and pretend he left her to sleep downstairs while he took her bed. Fuck. Really, he should have just dragged her up to her room and left her there, instead of humouring her in her drunken stupor. Instead, he's laying here, trying to figure out a way to stop the freakout that he's sure is inevitable - preferably something other than 'Well, you wanted it', because that was going to earn him a more than justifiable punch in the jaw (which probably wouldn't hurt so much as it would be shocking). Anyone in their right mind would never sleep with a ghoul, and though she's given him several reasons to doubt her judgement, he's never thought her anything but sane. After last night, after seeing come undone all at once, going from held together to a mess of disheveled hair and swollen lips, and at his hands... Her sanity has officially been doubted. No matter how much she may have thought she needed it, she should not have sought sex with a ghoul; Keeping company with one earned her enough odd looks and whispered remarks. This would only make it worse, earn her cruel words and harsh judgement - it would bring only pain. He sleeps dreamlessly when he finally manages to quite his mind for more than a few seconds.
When he wakes, he knows it's not long after sunrise before he ever opens his eyes. He can feel the vault girl still pressed against him, skin wonderfully warm and smooth. He considers disentangling their bodies, knowing that the disgust is bound to go from seed to full bloom in a matter of moments once Sallie wakes... But he can't quite bring himself to move. For one, he still relishes every little moment he has in a real bed; Two, as much as he doesn't want to listen to her shrieks of indignation, or have to dodge her punches and kicks, he wants to enjoy this for as long as he can. It will probably never happen again. He doesn't remember ever being this worried about anything before; It's always only that little nagging sense in the back of his mind. That nagging little sense that he had completely ignored last night, for the first time in his miserable life. This was all his own fault, all of it. Two centuries had finally allowed all sense of conscious reason and control to being breaking down, obviously, and this was just the beginning of the end. By the time he'd fully unraveled, maybe he'd resemble a fucking normal person.
As he continues to freak out internally, Sallie begins to stir at his side. He freezes, unsure of what to do; All the brainwashing and training sure as shit hadn't prepared him for a moment like this. He doesn't know if he should just jerk away and roll off of the best like an idiot, or continue to lie there like he wants to; Doesn't know if she'll be more offended one way or the other. Doesn't really know anything right now, really - his mind's like a brand new chalkboard, just waiting to be covered in scrawling letters.
Of one thing, she is fairly certain: she's never woken up so damn sore or warm, not that she remembers, at least. For a few moments, she struggles to remember, and what she does hits her full force the moment it returns to her mind. Flashes of the previous night are vivid in her mind - her, making those from-from-soft noises, panting, whimpering, and little cries of pleasure, chanting his name like it's the only word she knows; Him, hot and hard and exquisite within her, only occasionally allowing himself a grunt or groan, and never uttering a word, fingertips biting into her hips with bruising force. And it had been all sorts of wonderful, not some awkward obligation like it had felt like with Butch all those years ago in the vault, but genuine want and need and blinding, smouldering heat. With a long, low sigh, she settles back against the source of warmth beside her; Her eyes pop open a moment later, when the warmth goes rigid, and she's wondering how she didn't realize sooner that it was something living, breathing. A short shift is enough to feel the patchy flesh against hers, comforting and familiar. To her, it's more than a little bit surprising that Charon stayed - he doesn't exactly strike her as the 'cuddle after sex' type. Hell, he probably doesn't strike anyone as that type, considering he isn't exactly chatty. Or emotional. Or a lot of other things, but she doesn't care because she loves him all the same - or thinks she does, at least. She's only twenty, she has no fucking clue what it feels like to be in love. Somewhat groggy, she rolls onto her other side, large eyes blinking up at Charon. He looked... Well, about as worried as he was probably capable of looking, and that concerned her. It was always worrisome when someone had a look like that on their face.
"What?" The ghoul looks startled, as though he had been expecting something other than her simple question. She watches him intently, catches it when, briefly, the weathered skin between his brows wrinkles. Silence settles, leaving her wondering if she's done something wrong or if he is genuinely uninterested in her and last night was a fluke or something. Sometimes, she genuinely wishes she hadn't given him so many freedoms (okay, that's not true, but she's worried and vaguely frustrated because she's worried, and she's not thinking all that clearly).
There was that look again. Fuck fuck fuck, what if he's upset? Can Charon even be upset? Shit, I should have waited, should have thought, should have- "You are... Not upset." Her thoughts stop dead. What is he even talki- Oh. Oh. He thinks...? Well, that was new and somewhat unexpected. How does one react to that particular worry? She's not entirely sure why she would be upset anyways; There's no reason that she can think of, but she's not all that good with picking up on things sometimes. She's intelligent, yes, and observant when it suits her, but she sure as hell isn't high functioning upon first waking.
She's definitely not awake enough to be having any sort of conversation about being upset, at least if she wants to understand it. Right about now, she just wants to roll over and go back to sleep, and preferably, stay that way for a while. "Why would I be...?" Maybe it's something obvious. Probably is. Despite wracking her brain for possible issues with this situation, she's not having much luck. She rubs at her eyes, hoping it will clear away the sleep and help her think, but it doesn't. She's still groggy and mildly confused and squinting at the ghoul, who has managed to scoot away from her, eying her from the edge of the bed like she's sprouted horns or an arm has just burst from her stomach like people in the vault expected with exposure to radiation.
"Why? Why?" What she'd expected was that same stoicism she always sees; A calm question and an explanation. It's not what she gets, like she's gotten under his skin without intending to. "Look at me! What kind of smoothskin sleeps with someone like me?" Well, obviously, this kind; The batshit ones from the vault, where all we grow is crazies. But that's obviously not the answer he's looking for. She opens her mouth, closes it, repeats the action a few times; Sometimes, it's just better for her not to talk, lest she stumble through her words like a fool. And just like that, Charon's right back to squared shoulders (and, god, did she love those shoulders) and clipped tone over a slightly more formal style of speaking. "You drank, I let this happen. I understand completely if you wish to transfer my contract to another. I had no right to-"
Well, at least she'd gotten him talking - maybe not quite in the way she'd like, but it's a step, even if it didn't stick. "Shut up."
"Excuse me?" It's not a question, the way he says it; It's a flat statement, like he doesn't believe that she's interrupted him. That's true enough - he genuinely doesn't get why she's cutting him off in the midst of a long-winded apology, rather than accepting it and telling him what will happen next. At first, he doesn't get an answer, just a look that he can't quite identify, because it's there and gone in an instant. Sallie has a sheet wrapped around her body, and she's fiddling with the fraying end of it, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water for a while. Aside from their breathing, the next ten minutes pass in silence, and he starts to wonder if he should just leave before his employer gets a chance to speak - he doesn't know for sure what she'll say, and he's not completely sure he wants to hear it.
Just when he thinks she's is actually waiting for him to leave, the girl finally moves, stares at him with those clear, clear eyes, but that isn't what he's looking at. All he sees is the bruise that's blossomed on her right shoulder, dark against her pale skin; He brushes his fingertips over it before he can stop himself. Sallie grins, runs her hand over the mark, and something halfway between a hum of pleasure and a content sigh falls from her lips. "That's from you, y'know." How should he feel about that? He's pretty sure he should feel something like guilt, and maybe he does, but it's hidden beneath layers of confusion, all thanks to her reaction; He doesn't like that he's hurt her, obviously bruised her. Or maybe he does. He's not entirely sure, to be perfectly honest, and the twinge in his gut isn't enough to sway his opinion either way. "You bit me, when you came." She's speaking so... Candidly about this, there are really only two options: either she is genuinely not bothered by this, or she wants to lure him into a false sense of security before she sells his contract. Both are more than plausible, he supposes. "Listen, Charon," she eventually says, scooting closer to him and reaching for his hand. Instinctively, he recoils, watches a frown appear on the girl's features and then holds out with hand, looking more than a little bit put out. With a roll of her eyes, the vault girl presses his hand to her chest; He can feel her heart beating rapidly against his palm. "That's because of you. Not some useless wasteland asshole who I wouldn't trust as far as I can throw 'em," he nearly interrupts her to tell her that she can't really throw all that well anyways, so that doesn't mean much. "You."
He just stares at her for a few moments, silent and feeling her heartbeat, strong and even and fast. "Why." The way she's looking at him, eyes hooded despite the mild irritation present, it's safe to say it's not nerves.
"Because, ah, ehm..." She looks sheepish. "I'm not... You're... I trust you, Charon. With my life. And I don't know if what I feel is love, or it's just me being overwhelmed that there's someone who is always there with me, who always has my back, or what, because I'm young." Well, that's all sorts of reassuring. "But, uh... Fuck, Charon. I trust you, and, and... You're probably the only person in the whole goddamn wasteland who I trust unconditionally, and you make me feel safe, as fucking stupid as that sounds."
He's fairly certain she doesn't actually trust him so much as she trusts his contract. There is a rather large distinction between the two, that people don't seem to notice. "I think you are... Mistaken, smoothskin." Okay, that may have been the wrong thing to say. Sallie looks absolutely livid, swatting his hand away from her like it's a fly or a cloud of smoke. She's scooting to the opposite edge of the bed to scoop her clothing from the floor and redress herself, and he suddenly feels guilty. "Are you sure it is me you trust, not my contract?" he finally says in an attempt to clarify and quell her anger. It doesn't work, but it does halt her movements and cause her to turn her head around to stare at him over her shoulder, eyes narrow. "It is a simple enough mistake to m-"
Jaw set, the smoothskin returns to her task. "Of course I'm sure, are you an idiot? Charon, you've seen me at my best. You've seen me at my worst. I gave you permission to leave if you didn't agree with the things I did, and you stayed. Plus, if I remember correctly, your contract only entitles me to your services in combat. Dragging my ass out of Moriarty's isn't combat. Keeping me from beating the everliving fuck out of the bastard Wernher wasn't combat. You're... Worth trusting, even if you don't know it."
"What did you do last night?" Sallie scowls at Nova, but automatically covers the bruise curving over her shoulder with her hand. She starts when the palm of her hand meets fabric and she is reminded of the old grey tee she wears, and the jeans hacked into shorts slung low on her hips. The former whore chuckles, shaking her head and trailing fingers lightly over the dark spots of bruising on the lone wanderer's hips as she passes by. "Trust me, honey, I know all about bruises like those. Who'd you take a tumble with?" The vault girl doesn't miss the fleeting look spared in Gob's direction, but she can't quite tell if it's a look of something unrequited or secrecy.
With square shoulders, she refuses to look at Nova; She's still not fond of her after so much time. "I don't see how it's any of your business who I 'took a tumble with', Nova." But at least I didn't need caps for it, you awful whore.
"Why, ashamed? Know all about that, too." Oh, she's so far from ashamed; What she is, is still concerned about Charon. She doesn't know if he... Well, she doesn't really know shit about how he feels about the situation, because after she'd finally gotten herself cleaned up and clothed, she hadn't spoken to him about it any more. Rather, she'd sort of just panicked and gone straight to the saloon.
Don't react negatively, don't react negatively, it's what she wants. She does her best to stay silent, sipping at a Nuka-Cola, but Nova continues prodding her for answers, cooing unwanted comments in her ears for who knows how long. This is why she doesn't like Nova - she doesn't know when to keep her nose out of other peoples' business, doesn't have the decency to stop questioning. Normally, the vault girl does her best to spare a kind word for even her least favourite people, but the former whore is making her rethink that; All she wants to do is snap and tell the older woman that, if it wasn't for Gob, she would have been staying in the common house. Drumming her fingers on the bar, she bats at wandering hands and continues to scowl. "Listen, I don't know what you aren't getting about this, Nova! I'm not telling you who I-" Her voices loses its strength and trails off as the door creaks open and Charon enters the building, looking distinctly less pleased than usual and muttering something about 'batshit, bomb-worshiping fuckwits'. Instead of composing herself quickly, she just sort of stares at him as he stomps over to the bar and takes a seat beside her.
Obviously, Nova is able to draw her own conclusion, as she gives a catlike grin and looks all too satisfied with herself. "Oh, so... Big, bad and ghoulish, huh? Wouldn't have guessed." Of course, she couldn't just leave well enough alone; That would make things simple and somewhat pleasant. Despite the questioning looks that both Gob and Charon are currently giving her (Gob looks decidedly more annoyed than confused, and she is suddenly less fond of the way he's slowly been coming out of his shell since Moriarty's death), the twenty year old continues trying to drown the awkwardness she was currently feeling with warm, fizzy soda. "No need to be shy, honey. You're among friends here."
Gritting her teeth against the slew of insults threatening to spill from her lips (most of which involved the fact that Nova had been stuck more times than the old picture of Amata that Butch used for target practice back in the vault), Sallie forced a smile. "Nova, you and I are not now, nor have we ever been friends. If you insist upon repeatedly bringing up the subject, then I will tell you: Yes, I did, in fact, sleep with Charon." At her side, the aforementioned ghoul let out a noise halfway between a snort of amusement and some sort of shocked choking. She'd honestly half-expected him to back her up, start throwing in details; Really, she was sort of glad he hadn't, because she'd probably have ended up red in the face.
As it were, she was currently trying to keep just that from happening, while still managing to keep running her mouth until she either forced herself to leave, Gob had a panic attack, or Charon dragged her out of here. Grinning wickedly, she pressed on, amused by the look of curiosity that crossed the redhead's features. "Don't regret it in the least, either. He's hung like a-" Good lord, was she ever happy when a ruined hand pressed itself over her mouth, because she honestly wasn't entirely sure where she'd been going with that comment. She'd only ever read things like that phrase, and it usually went along the lines of 'hung like a horse', but she had no fucking clue what a horse was, and Nova probably didn't either. She'd have to ask Charon or Gob about it, at some point.
And then a blush was creeping up her neck, because Charon was muttering in her ear and she was surprised he was speaking and even more surprised about the content. Definitely not complaining though, no sir. "If you're going to put your mouth to good use, wait until we return home, smoothskin." She's fairly certain that she made an undignified squeak at that point, staring wide-eyed and expecting someone to have heard. Where that streak of boldness had come from, she doesn't know, but she's not entirely sure she cares; Apparently, when something clicks in Charon's head, it clicks. Hell, she would have tried this from the beginning, if she'd known it would work. Actually, I probably wouldn't have, but shit, do I ever wish I would have. Whoever bombed the royal fuck out of our country did me a favour bec- Oh, sweet fuck, what am I thinking. Fully aware that the saloon's other three inhabitants were currently staring at her (Charon somewhat more expectantly than the others, trying to gauge her reaction), the girl bowed her head and scurried towards the door. "Right, well, time to go home, be by again later or tomorrow or who knows when, bye!"