"Willow, by the way."
The two had been walking together for a few hours now, mostly in silence. It isn't an awkward silence, but rather a consequence of the fact that both Willow and MacCready are use to solitude; and so they had opted to listen for threats rather than chit chat. But the ruins are quiet tonight, and with the exception of a few radroaches, it has been a rather uneventful trek so far.
"What?" MacCready asks, turning to look at Willow. "Oh. Your name?"
"Yeah. Obviously." Willow says, "Geez. We've been travelling together all night now and you haven't even thought to ask me my name."
"I figured you'd tell me eventually." MacCready defends himself nonchalantly with a small smirk, and Willow quickens her pace to walk at his side now instead of behind him.
"Chivalry really is dead." she jokes dryly.
MacCready glances to her from the side of his eye. "Oh, sorry. I was under the impression you hired me as a mercenary, not a butler." His tone remains light, playful. It matches Willow's demeanour.
"Yeah, well, one more slip up and I deduct 25 caps from your pay." she retorts, and MacCready chuckles.
"Uh-huh, and how exactly do you plan on following through on that threat? In case you forgot, you've already paid me." he challenges. Willow frowns in defeat, and MacCready grins. "Check and mate."
"That's it. I regret talking to you." she pouts and brushes a fleck of dirt from atop the scope of her beloved lazer rifle, though the words are hardly true. In fact, she has guardedly enjoyed their banter thus far, sparse as it may be.
MacCready laughs softly. "Well, I guess that makes two of us." he says, and his words are just about as true as Willow's. So far, she seems to be someone he could see himself getting along with. It's too early to tell, really, but her presence is at the very least not insufferable and even perhaps mildly entertaining.
Willow titters and rolls her eyes, and MacCready yawns. He rotates his shoulders a bit, and Willow notices both of them seem to have slowed their pace considerably. She stops and looks up to the sky, eyes narrowing as she tries to parce what time it is based on the position of the moon. MacCready makes it a few more steps ahead of her before he realizes she has stopped walking, and he turns to see what she is doing.
He watches her a moment, before he checks the time on his watch. "Quarter to one." he says, and Willow turns to him sharply.
"You cheated." she says, eyes on his watch. MacCready raises his eyebrows.
"You took too long." he replies, and then yawns again. Willow smirks.
"Long day?" she asks, and before he can get a witty response in, she adds, "I'm tired too. We should probably find a place to crash for the night."
"Couldn't agree with you more." he says, his eyes scanning the darkness. "Never really have been a fan of travelling at night."
Willow nods. "I get it." she says, then does the same scan MacCready has just done, before she turns and begins walking again. "It shouldn't take us long to find somewhere."
She peers over her shoulder as they walk again, and spots Maggie walking along silently, strolling casually behind MacCready. The two girls make eye contact, and Maggie smiles.
MacCready cocks an eyebrow and looks behind him, then back to Willow who has by then turned back around to face forward. "What?" he asks quietly. "Everything alright?"
Willow holds out a thumbs up. "All good. Just thought I saw something." she lies and MacCready casts another look behind him. He shivers, and hurries to match Willow's pace again.
"Alright then."
Once more, the two travel in silence. It's about 20 minutes later that they find a small storefront. The windows are smashed in, like most buildings in the city ruins; but it is empty, closed off from the elements, and the thick, wooden shelving would make them virtually undetectable from outside. As long as no one else has had the same idea, then it is the perfect shelter.
Willow climbs through the broken window first, stepping lightly into the building, her boot crunching against the broken glass on the ground. She looks around with narrow eyes, and then brings the scope of her rifle to her eye to take advantage of the nightvision. She sees nothing, so she presses onward, until she has done a thorough check of the entire store.
Tucked in the back corner of the store, they find a mattress. It looks like someone has had the same idea as they have, but judging by the emptied cans of beans which have crusted over, it appears to have been a long time since anyone was here. MacCready kicks a can away from the mattress, then gestures to it. Willow shakes her head.
"It's okay. I mean, you can use it." she shrugs. MacCready raises an eyebrow.
"This another one of your chivalry tests?" he asks, and Willow laughs softly.
"No, no. It's—"
"Then take the bed!" he insists, and Willow bites her tongue then hesitantly drops her belongings onto the bed before she sits down on the mattress. It is firm, lumpy, but already leagues more comfortable than the bench she had slept on that morning. MacCready settles against the wall, his rifle in his lap. He leans his head back against the wall and turns it towards the way they came, searching for any potential threats.
Willow pushes herself back into the corner and undoes her jacket. She shrugs it off her shoulders, and drapes it over her front like a blanket, tucking her legs beneath it.
"Why do you go by your last name?" she asks after watching MacCready for a moment, and the merc turns to face her again. He raises his eyebrows and blinks, then takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his thick, brown hair. It's something so inconsequential that he's never even really thought of it before.
"I dunno. Been called MacCready since I was a kid and I guess it stuck." he shrugs, then yawns as he puts his hat back on. "Gunners tend to use last names, too. So I've never really had a reason to go by my first name."
Willow nods slowly. "So you're with the Gunners?"
"Was." MacCready corrects her, "Worst mistake of my life. The caps were good, but that's about it."
A small chuckle escapes Willow's lips. "Yeah, fuck those guys." she exclaims softly, tiredly, and MacCready laughs.
"Indeed." he agrees, then casts his eyes towards her once more. "And what about you? What's your story?"
"Don't really have one." Willow says, and MacCready is immediately skeptical because she literally has a hit list. "Just kind of a scavenger, I guess. Been on my own pretty much my whole life." As she says this, she notices Maggie is nowhere to be found.
"And? Do you prefer it that way?"
Willow thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "I mean, I guess so." she chuckles. "I don't always play well with others."
"Me neither." MacCready says, and Willow snorts.
"Oh, really?" she says sarcastically, thinking back to Winlock and Barnes, "I couldn't tell."
MacCready chuckles lowly, but doesn't retort. The brim of his hat covers his eyes as he hangs his head. Willow watches him briefly, before she moves to lay down on the mattress.
She is quiet for a moment, simply staring off at the shelf of debris and junk that is across from her. After a bit, she speaks softly.
"So what is your first name, then?"
MacCready is almost asleep at this point, and the question very gently nudges him awake. Heavy eyelids push open slightly, and he glances in Willow's general direction.
"Robert." he murmurs as his eyes fall shut again, and Willow grins.
"Bobby." she jokes, and MacCready heaves a sleepy sigh.
"MacCready." he corrects her, slurring his own name as he loses his battle against the sandman. Willow snickers, but says nothing more, letting the man fall asleep in peace. She pulls her jacket up over her shoulders and curls into a ball, thankful for the mattress beneath her. But before she falls asleep, she takes her switchblade from her pocket and holds it tightly in her hand. Just in case.
The next morning, Nick slides on his coat, grabs his hat, and hits the streets for a quick walk around Diamond City. He stops to chat with some of the locals – he has a good rapport here with most people, and the ones who don't like him tend to just avoid him which was fine as far as he is concerned.
His walk brings him past Power Noodles, where he had been just last night. And he spots it quickly – the beam in the centre of the stand, now sans poster. His brow furrows, and, with his hands jammed into his pockets, he strolls over.
"Well, Takahashi," he asks, eyes narrow as he stares past the protrectron in the chef's hat and instead at the spot where the poster once was, "Who took down that poster?"
Takahashi pivots his body slightly, then turns back to Nick. "Na-ni shimasho-ka?" he replies, and Nick chuckles, then looks around inquisitively before he turns back to the robot before him.
"I was afraid you might say that."