Zeelee-Vallen: Originally this was only going to be like 500 words, but after such a long wait I decided you guys deserve more.
Do not own Fallout. I own Ratface :D
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He watched the boy sleep from the corner of his eye. He had been searching through old case files when the kid moved, rousing ever so slightly. Slowly the pile of rags stood up, its bicolored eyes blinking drearily. Its lips opened, a small puff of air releasing from its mouth.
Sleep was a fascinating thing. It was amazing that humans needed to lay down unconscious for hours on end. But, this child had only slept maybe two. Generally, his assistant Ellie needed to sleep at least eight. It seemed to be the minimum humans needed to function. On the other hand, some of the other children he took in could sleep for ten hours.
Slowly the child picked up the bottle by its bedside and made its way to him. The child seemed fully awake now, with its eyes glinting in the dim light. "Your awake rather soon." He commented, making the child lower its gaze to the papers on his desk. It blinked, before looking back to him.
"Yes." The boy answered, voice like a whisper.
"Any reason why?" He asked the child, whom only seemed to dim further. Carefully, the child reached out to grab his trench coat. Again, with a careful slowness, the child shook his head. It was rather pitiful. He hated how the child looked so broken. "Why don't we go out for a bite to eat? The noodle stand should still be open." He swore the child brightened ten times at his words.
He stood, and the child took a step closer to him, still clinging to him. He swore under all that dirt and grime he could see an ever so slight blush.
Or, it could be his highly sensitive eyes.
No, it was likely a play of the light. After all, the child was absolutely filthy.
After all, he was just an old synth.
He led them out the door, and down the little alley way.
Then a thought popped up.
If the child was raised by raiders, how the hell did he make it in the city? They rarely let anyone in, and the security tended to be fairly strict. And they were so damn paranoid of synths.
The child tripped a bit, making him cling tighter to his cloak.
Ah, poor thing, he pitied it so much. Soon they were in the bright lights of the bustling shopping center. He picked his favorite spot at the end and sat. The boy stood awkwardly clinging to his back.
It was cute.
"You know, you can sit too?" The child nodded and sat down briskly. He sat close to Valentine as possible, his bottom skootched right to the edge of the seat. In a way, the clinginess was almost endearing. A lot of the children were somewhat wary of him, due to his synth-hood. Yet the child only exhibited fear of everything else. The man cooking nodded, his eyes locking on the child for a brief moment before returning to the water. How particular, it was as if the child was an existence out of the man's eyes. All around, people tended to ignore the child. He began to watch. The child would catch the attention of passing people, rightly so considering his filth, yet it would be completely disregarded moments later. It was almost as if the child had no presence.
The man came back with only one bowl of noodles, confirming his suspicions. The child was hardly recognized. He didn't need to be a detective to understand how the child got into the city. Valentine passed the bowl to the child, looking up to the booth man. Again, the booth man's eyes passed over the child, before a small light popped above his head. Literally, one of the bulbs of the stand exploded.
"Opps." The man began. "I'm sorry, I thought it was luggage, not a child. Did you want me to get you another bowl?" He rubbed his head sheepishly. On the other hand, the child was eyeing the bowl owlishly.
How interesting. Valentine shook his head, smiling at the man "No, that's fine." The man nodded, turning around to tend to his other customers.
The child was still eyeing the bowl owlishly. He blinked his big bicolored eyes, staring at the noodles like it was a foreign object.
"Can… I?" The child asked, its eyes turning to look at him. Valentine could not contain his smile at the kid's antics.
"Yeah, that's what it's there for." He motioned to the food, watching as a small trail of drool left the kids lips. The boy quickly grabbed the fork and shoved it into the bowl and lifted it up; the noodles fell back into the bowl with a little splash of broth.
The child tried again, but the noodles slipped.
How comical. The child might as well be- Oh god.
He reached out to stop the child just as he was about to stuff his dirty hands in the bowl. He just barely made it!
"Here, I'll show you how to eat it." The child nodded, its lips pursed. Obviously it was not pleased. And, it was rather adorable. "See, you roll it like this." He rolled the noodles onto the fork, securing the noodle in place. The child motioned to its mouth, eyes intent on the food. Did it want him to feed it? Well, it couldn't do much hard. He brought the noodles to the child's lips, watching as the pink colored flesh opened and closed around the fork. Then things got slightly awkward, he met eyes with the child as it pulled the noodles off the fork.
It reminded him of his Jennifer, they once had a date similar. He put the fork back into the bowl and moved it in front of the child. Completely oblivious of his predicament, the child mimicked his actions with rolling the noodle on the fork.
It was when the child held out the fork full of noodles close to his lips, did he remember the situation, and this was a young boy, not his late fiancé.
His memory banks must be going on a frenzy for showing him such old memories.
He smiled at the child, shaking his head. "No, you eat it." The child grunted, shoving the fork closer. "All right- fine." He opened his mouth. The child shoved the noodles into his mouth, with no gentleness. Pride filled the child's face as he pulled back the fork, his bicolored eyes bright with accomplishment.
Another thing, never once did Jennifer try feed him like this.
Yeah, there was a big difference.
The child now shoved a fork into its mouth, looking just as accomplished as the first time.
"So boy, how old are you?" He simply had to know. It was strange for the child to be so lanky, but have such little knowledge of day to day things.
The child looked up with a mouth full of food. "Sixteen, and I am not a boy." Now if he was anyone else he would have blanched. The child had such a small petite frame he assumed it had to be a young boy. Also, the way it had a lower voice as well, pointed to being a boy.
And sixteen?
He was a detective! Detectives are famous for their analytical skills! Yet, they child through him way off.
Wait, he had to correct himself. This was not a child.
In this after-war world, sixteen was an adult. As a matter of fact, fifteen was teetering on the age of adult hood. People in the wastes did not tend to live long lives, so they began to mature much faster, and do things younger.
But sixteen?
Valentine had to admit, he was a bit at a loss. This was an adult female in front of him. He also offered her a place to stay, and the possibility of finding her a home.
He could not exactly go back on his word now.
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Zeelee-Vallen: I did it! Although I should be sleeping!