AN/ Thankyou if you are following along, thankyou if you commented on this story, I'm very proud of it. It is a little strange to be using this Ghoul, but it's a new experience, which I love. :) So, as always, R&R, enjoy~
Part III
The next morning followed as usual, same routine, same breakfast, same peeling Ghouls. Although the Smoothskin was gone just as she promised, Ahzrukhal could feel her lingering presence in the little spaces she occupied before she left. Her essence was still in the bar and frankly, it was intoxicating the barkeep. There was no way he could forget about those big shining silver eyes taunting him or her shining lips in that smirk when they spoke, the things she spilled to him. Ahzrukhal hadn't felt this helpless since, well ever. He got what he wanted, even if he had to take it. But this, this was something one could not simply take or earn. It could only be given, and he smiled, knowing he'd never get it. No. Not him, not now or ever.
"Ahz...Ahzrukhal.. could I get some you.. your Jet? Snowflake.. he's.. got me to get it.." Patchwork had stumbled over to the bar with the caps held loosely in his fist, speaking lowly. After holding himself up with the countertop as support he offered the fistful to the Ghoul before him. The barkeep looked over the drunkard's form and snorted a little, taking the currency from his hand and shoving it into his pocket. He followed this by casually surveying the patrons, his paranoia kicking in, he made his way to the wall safe and dug about for a moment, opening a small box with the inhalers full of that special concotion. He took one and locked the safe back tight before handing it to Patchwork. "Here, now go on." Ahzrukhal gave his signature smirk and watched the Ghoul leave the bar before turning to his terminal.
His glazed milky eyes looked over the entries, that woman's. Lorelei, each day she came in there was a log. Each one filled to the brim of his personal thoughts of the smoothskin. He smiled reading over them, some had been so long ago and yet the memories lingered as though it was yesterday. One incident in particular caught his thoughts. The Christmas Party.
The little Pre-War night and day party the Ghould kept alive by getting drunk off their asses and sleeping where they fell through their drunken stupor. Ahzrukhal felt the sense wash over him as if it were yesterday.
Like every year, he started off the night by cleaning up the counters with a more clean than usual rag. The Ghouls began streaming in, ordering their usual blends, taking seats, talking. It was this time of year he adored, this time of year he was allowed to join in the festivities. Or so he told himself. Being drunk constantly simply isn't allowed for this barkeep. Unless the time frame allowed it of course. It was only this time of year that he would allow himself to fall over the edge into a well induced stupor like his fellow Ghouls.
Something out of the ordinary sauntered into the bar, the smoothskin. She was clad in a skin tight red, pre-war dress. She held a bottle of Vodka in hand as she passed through the crowd of Ghouls, finding her way up to Ahzrukhal. The barkeep continued his rituals, cleaning, serving, keeping the overall mood at an acceptable level. "Ahzrukhal. I brought you a gift for this fine occassion." The Ghoul looked up to the seductive voice, following the curve of her red lips to her piercing eyes, the temperature in the room sky-rocketed. He was already a little tipsy, teasing was not something he wanted tonight. As of this day she had been here for three months.
"Why thankyou dear." His voice rasped as she offered up the bottle, placing it on the counter, taking a seat at the barstool, the radio playing out the usual tunes. "Anything for you hun." She replied, watching him work. Ahzrukhal could admit, this was a bit unusual, there was no doubt about it. Perhaps she too, was tipsy. Or well on her way to being completely beligerant. No telling really, everyone holds their alcohol differently. Ghoul and smoothskin alike. He continued about his business until around midinight, most of the patrons had either left for food or passed out where they fell, leaving Ahzrukhal and the Smoothskin the only semi-consciouss in the room.
"Ahzrukhal.. could I get a shot? And you really should try that brew. It's from Maryland." She smiled, her lips glistening in that red shade, mirroring the traditional reds and greens used in the PreWar days to celebrate this long forgotten routine. "Is that so?" The barkeep poured two glasses of the new Vodka, sliding one to her. He looked into the glass's contents, reluctant to drink. His eyes returned to hers and she offered her glass, as cheers. He smiled and obliged as they both slowly downed the drinks. It almost set him over the edge as he leaned over the counter, resting his elbows on the clean counter. Lorelei looked over the radio and turned it down, much to Ahzrukhal's displeasure. She knew that.
"Shhh.. c'mere.. I want to tell you something.." She smiled, the sound of her voice promising pleasures and flirtation. Coaxing him to lean towards her, he followed. How could he not, as drunk as they both were, if someone told them to strip, they'd do that too. He looked into her eyes, as if looking for another person through the shining pools of color. He let her gingerly take hisrough marred face in her hands. Her smooth and soft hands, unmarked by gripping her weapons in the wastes, hard working or anything. She was a free pass to a reminder of the World long passed. Ahzrukhal could see her perfectly in that world...
He sat at home, looking over the newspaper, his clean hands, covered with skin, scratching at his chin. "Darling." That voice called to him, a female, using a term reserved for married couples. After neatly folding his paper and placing it on the end table, he looked up to see no one there. His house with well furnished objects, clean carpets, decorated walls. No one there. "Darling, come here.." He moved through the house, passing a mirror in the hall, he froze. His face, his skin, his rust colored hair in a perfect coif. "Darling please." The voice beckoned him further, down the hall through the dining room into the kitchen. And there she was.
Lorelei, dressed in a clean pressed green dress, her apron colored with various ingrediants to foods. She was kneeling before the oven, a burnt roast in a pan which she held ever so gently in her hands, protected by her apron, avoiding the heated metal. "L-Lorelei?" He whispered approaching her kneeling at her side. "I'm so sorry darling, I was preparing the pie you like, and I got carried away and forgot about it, and then the dog was hungry. Honey i'm so-" Ahzrukhal could stand it no longer, he let his lips wrap around hers, taking the sweet redness under his lips, he could faintly smell cherries. His favorite.
A soft nibble from the opposing female carried him back to now. He pulled away from the kiss slowly, opening his milky glazed eyes. A satisfied smoothskin sitting before him. Never taking his eyes off her, he realized, he stole the kiss whilst daydreaming of the old world. He had never been back in his own home. Never walked into the kitchen with this woman cooking him dinner. "Hey Ahz.." He looked up from the bar and to the woman. She was practically glowing and it wasn't radiation from the alcohol. "Don't tell anyone about this.." She hiccuped a little before continuing. "Oh.. and you are the best kisser ever. Even for a Ghoul, you beat smoothskins hands down." She smiled and layed her head down on the counter. She nodded off, leaving Ahzrukhal to drink down a few shots before making his way to his room, to go to sleep in some comfort.
But something nagged at him. What had she said while he was basking in PreWar fantasies?
He smiled a little. To this day he still didn't know. He could hardly help the fact that she still hadn't left his thoughts. She stayed there like the plague, dug in deep through his irradiated skin like a tick. Bloodthirsty and starving she made her way through right into his mind. And she made a home there. It was a funny little thing. This attraction to smoothskins. It had never been this bad though, not any day had it been this bad, the incessant burning in his core, the desire to hold her close, and inhale her very being. He wondered briefly as he played with the terminal, what would she smell of? Probably dust, sweat and blood, like any other Waster that had passed through.
He relaxed his form a little and logged off the terminal, returning to business as usual, taking his place behind the counter as the usual flow of Ghouls wandered in for their daily dose of the best kind of poisons. His milky eyes took in the patrons, a few Ghoulettes looked his way, showing obvious desire. It was disgusting absolutely appalling. Ahzrukhal felt his stomach churn, not only were these women Ghouls, that wasn't what irked him, it was that they refused to even tidy their appearence in the slightest way. The entire City of Underworld, every female Ghoul held no ounce of self respect in their appearence. It was distasteful and grossly unappealing to him. Highstrung yes, high expectations, not normally, but it was hard to be attracted to anything but the past these days. And Lorelei? A prime example of that past he held so close.