Sorry it's been a few days! Some personal stuff came up. Anyway, this is the chapter I decided to ditch the previous naming scheme for chapter titles. I was kinda running out of ideas for that, so I'm just going to give them snappy names that fit the content from now on.
Chapter 21 - Speak Your Mind
The church was far different on the inside than Marilyn expected it could've been. The outside was weathered and decrepit with peeling paint, like some old abandoned building. But the inside was something that Marilyn could only describe as clean. Clean walls, clean floors. It almost could've passed for pre-war. Almost.
In all of this tidiness, one thing stuck out like a sore thumb. A massive tapestry. It hung upon the far wall, from ceiling to floor, at the back of the church. It was worn, a little moth-eaten, and definitely bloodstained. It was just a stark black, save for the one object depicted at its core; a massive off-white human skull. Various people were kneeling by the base of the tapestry, heads down and uttering frantic words quietly. Marilyn couldn't hear what they were saying, but she was honestly kind of glad for that. Something about the urgency of their voices made her feel it was probably for the best if she didn't know.
"Now, you're a bit late for this morning's proper breakfast," Brother Cole began, startling Marilyn from her gawking, "But Nessie, our cook, may have some leftovers to prepare for you. If not, I am certain she would be willing to whip something up."
Marilyn went to protest, that uneasy feeling still blanketing her, but her stomach responded with a growl before she could. Embarrassed, she brought a hand to her stomach and looked down. She hadn't eaten anything since she'd left the Vault. Though she didn't feel as hungry as someone who hadn't eaten in over a week. Maybe Dick had somehow managed to feed her while she had been unconscious? She had never asked. In either case, though, she definitely hadn't eaten since she'd awoken two days ago.
"Food would be nice," She relented sheepishly, hand still over her stomach.
"Of course," Brother Cole smiled before gesturing for them to follow him, "This way to the kitchen."
Kitchen was a bit of an overstatement. It was a refurbished bathroom, technically. An old clawfoot bathtub had been ripped up from the floor, a fire pit built beneath it. The porcelain sink was covered with a crudely sautered sheet of metal, turned into a makeshift counter. And, most alarmingly, the toilet seemed to be functioning as a cooler of sorts. It was filled with water, with various fruits and vegetables floating on the surface. The produce seemed fresh, but it was all odd-looking and lumpy. Like no fruits and vegetables Marilyn had ever seen produced in the Vault's hydroponic gardens, that was for sure.
"Good morning, Nessie," Brother Cole greeted the woman who was leaning over the tub, scrubbing off residue from the sides, "May Holy Death take you on this fine morning."
"May He take you instead," Nessie grunted back, looking up.
Nessie was a dark-skinned older woman, with a saggy face linked with deep wrinkles. Her graying black curls had been pulled into a scruffy bunch behind her, like a pom-pom sitting atop her head. A cigarette dangled from her pinched lips, reflecting the way her cracked, narrow spectacles hung from the tip of her nose.
"These travelers would like a warm meal. Are there any leftovers from breakfast?" Brother Cole asked as he peered around the little room, "If not, could you prepare something for them?"
"You mean right now?" Nessie furrowed her brow, "But I've still got so many dishes to wash."
Brother Cole hummed then turned towards Marilyn and Dick.
"Perhaps the travelers are willing to assist you," He hummed as he eyed them, "Let them handle the cleaning while you prepare a meal for them in return?"
Marilyn and Dick shrugged and nodded in response, unbothered by this suggestion. They were both quite used to custodial work, after all. Besides, it made Marilyn feel a little bit better about the situation. Maybe it was just years of her father's duty speeches, but she didn't really like the idea of not giving something back in return. Plus, the more cautious side of her didn't want to get caught owing anything to anyone. Not out here. That felt exceedingly dangerous.
So Dick and Marilyn both ended up seated on the floor by the door outside of the so-called kitchen, Marilyn with a bucket of water and a damp rag while Dick sat beside her with a dry rag. She rinsed the dishes and he dried them. There weren't too many, so they were already halfway through after only a few minutes.
"I gotta admit, I kinda thought these people were sorta creepy at first," Dick admitted quietly as he dried a bowl, "I mean, y'know, the whole worshiping death thing threw me for a loop there."
"Yeah, I was a little bit suspicious too, but I'm glad it looks like I was wrong," Marilyn smiled while she scrubbed a plate, "I'm glad there's still people like this out here."
"Like what?" Dick perked a brow, taking the plate from her.
"Giving," Marilyn shrugged, dunking another bowl into the water, "Kind."
"Ah, yeah, I get that," Dick nodded while drying the plate off, "Me, I guess I'm just glad they're not all like Billy."
"Ghouls?" Marilyn blinked, beginning to scrub the bowl.
"Nah, I–well, yeah, I mean, I'm glad not everybody looks like that, too," Dick shrugged, setting the plate aside, "I just meant, y'know, jerks."
"I don't think Billy's as much of a jerk as he seems," Marilyn hummed thoughtfully before passing him the newly-cleaned bowl, "I don't know, it feels like he's trying to act meaner than he is. Like it's a defense mechanism, or something. I guess that makes sense, given how hard it is out here…"
"Yeah?" Dick grunted skeptically as he began to dry the bowl, "So what's his problem with me then, y'think?"
"That? I… I don't know," Marilyn frowned, glancing aside as she dunked a cup into the bucket of water, "Maybe he's just jealous of your hair or something."
"Not much to be jealous of anymore," Dick chuckled, running a hand through his hair, "I haven't been able to wash it in over a week. It looks awful."
"Well, he's always calling you pretty boy, right?" Marilyn shrugged, "So maybe he's jealous of your pretty face."
"My pretty face?" Dick looked over at Marilyn with a perked brow, "I wasn't aware I had one of those."
Marilyn just looked over at him flatly, not dignifying that with a response. Oh, he knew full well. She knew he did.
"Kinda disappointing," Dick tsked, setting the bowl aside.
"Disappointing?" Marilyn snorted, passing him the cup.
"Yeah. Cause, I mean, we can't both be the pretty one," Dick mumbled.
Marilyn blushed a bit, despite her best efforts. She turned away from him to save face, focusing intently on the dirty plate she'd just picked up. Her heart was beating way too fast.
"W-Well," She began, clearing her throat as she dunked the plate into the water, "Then, um… you can be the… handsome one, instead."
A beat passed in silence before Marilyn risked stealing a glance at Dick. She immediately wished she hadn't, blushing more as soon as she saw his goofy grin.
"Nah, I dunno about that. Doesn't really have the same ring to it," Dick chuckled before scooting over a little closer towards her, "How about I stay the pretty one, and you be the beautiful one?"
Marilyn felt her breath catch and she had to look down, unable to hold his gaze. She scrubbed at the plate she was holding like her life depending on it. The gesture nicely masked the nervous trembling of her hands.
"H-How about we j-just use our names instead?" She mumbled shakily.
Dick hummed thoughtfully, leaning away from her to set the dried cup down.
"...Works for me," He shrugged after a moment, before shooting her an easy smile.
Marilyn's nervousness was quickly replaced with annoyance. He was doing it again. Making that face like he wasn't telling her something. She hated it when he made that face.
"What?" She squinted suspiciously, her embarrassment momentarily set aside.
"Nothing," Dick responded casually.
He reached over and took the plate from her, not reacting when their fingers brushed.
"Like always, right?"