"Pigeon?! His name is... Pigeon..?"
MacCready and Willow walk side by side, heading North toward the aforementioned's territory. Willow laughs softly.
"Trust me," she says, "he's a lot worse than his name makes him sound."
"Yeah, well, that's not exactly a high bar to set." MacCready scoffs, then mumbles, "Pigeon..."
Today is warmer than yesterday, and Willow has her coat unzipped to allow the breeze to hug her more closely as they travel though her cheeks are still tinged pink. She walks casually, as if in no real rush to get to where they are going.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard of him, he's a pretty big name in the world of chems." Willow says, and MacCready raises an eyebrow.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who wastes his time with that crap?" he asks flatly, almost afraid to know the answer.
Willow laughs, though. "No, you don't." she says, and MacCready exhales. "But, I dunno. You're a mercenary, so I guess I thought maybe the worlds overlapped or something."
The man seems to consider her words, and supposes they make sense, but... He chuckles softly, and shifts his focus back outward to scan for threats. "To tell you the truth," he begins, then pauses briefly to decide whether or not to continue. But he does, "You're the first client I've had in months."
"Huh? Really?!" Willow asks, brow creasing as she turns to him in disbelief. MacCready blows air from his nose.
"Yeah, really." he says. "Those two clowns you saw me talking to in Goodneighbour – Winlock and Barnes... They've been scaring all my clients off." He looks annoyed. "Nobody wants to touch me when they hear I used to run with the Gunners."
Willow is quiet. She hadn't really thought of the implications of his past, but then, seeing how MacCready seems to handle himself, she supposes she isn't really too concerned. She herself was already a target for Gunners... But then, who wasn't? So what difference did it make whether MacCready used to work with them or not?
When Willow says nothing, MacCready clears his throat awkwardly. "Uh, anyway... I guess I just wanted to say... Thanks for taking the chance on me."
Willow's eyes widen, and she glances to MacCready.
"You know, I almost didn't hire you." She wears a playful smile, "But not 'cause of the Gunners thing."
MacCready looks momentarily confused, and then nods and grins. "Oh, yeah. Because you're cheap, right?"
"No." Willow tuts. "Because you're kind of a dick."
The answer takes MacCready by surprise, but he laughs and so too does Willow. "Yeah, and you're the poster child for kindness and civility." he says sarcastically. Willow smiles smugly.
"Thanks."
"That was sarcasm, dumbass– er... idiot."
"I know." Willow's smirk grows a bit wider, and she tilts her head and bats her eyelashes up at MacCready, "I was just choosing to take your words at face value to protect my ego."
MacCready chuckles. "Well, at least you're honest." he says, but his smile fades as they come up on a small group of travellers heading toward them from the other direction. His grip on his gun tightens as he watches them approach. And Willow is watching them too. They don't look like raiders, or Gunners... They don't look hostile at all, and in fact, they seem just as weary of Willow and MacCready as the duo are of them. Willow's eyes travel down one of the travelers' sides and end upon a bulging pocket, and she can't help but to wonder what could possibly be inside.
As the groups pass each other by, MacCready nods rigidly to them and he gets the same treatment back. He casts a look over his shoulder at the group, making sure they haven't stopped, aren't watching them. But they carry on their way, and MacCready turns back around in time to see a can of potato crisps being thrust toward him.
"Chip?" Willow asks with her mouth full, and MacCready tilts his head then takes one.
"Where did you get these?" he questions. Willow grins impishly, jams her thumb over her shoulder, and takes another chip from the can.
"Pocket." she says simply, then shoves the chip into her mouth gracelessly and lets MacCready decide whose pocket she means. He quickly discerns she does not, in fact, mean her own, and grins.
"Well, that was smooth." he praises her, and she holds out the can for him to take another chip which he happily obliges. He's honestly impressed that she was able to sneak a can of potato crisps out of someone's pocket in the two seconds it took to pass them by. Willow, meanwhile, thinks nothing of it – she's just excited that she has someone to share her spoils with this time when usually she does not.
They munch away at half the canister, then Willow opens her bag to put the rest away for later. MacCready glances over, in time to see the colourful corner of a comic book sticking out amongst her belongings.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asks, eyes on her bag.
"What?!" Willow looks down quickly and feels her heart skip a beat in fear he may have seen something embarrassing like her undergarments or something; but she calms slightly when she spots the corner of the comic. "Oh... This?"
She pulls the book out of her bag and holds it out to MacCready, who smiles excitedly as he takes it in his hand. "Oh, man. I love Grognak!"
"Yeah?" Willow asks, watching him with a look of partiality. "I used to read it a lot as a kid, and this one is my favourite." She leans into MacCready more as they walk, so she can admire the colourful pages as flips through them. "I just thought Maula was really, really cool."
"Were you one of those kids who roots for the bad guy?" he asks, and Willow laughs and holds up her hands defensively.
"No, except when the bad guy is a giant, epic alien lady from mars!"
MacCready has slowed a bit now since he started flicking through the pages, and Willow stops, figuring maybe this is a fine place to rest anyway. She smiles and steps away from MacCready, giving him space to read though he doesn't spend more than a few more moments with the comic before he closes it and holds it back out to Willow.
"Didn't really take you for a fan." she says lightly as she takes the comic back then moves to sit up on a crumbling, concrete barrier.
"Tch. You kidding?" MacCready retorts, "I've got every issue. Well, except one. I'm missing the one where Grognak teams up with Mastodonald – but I swear, I'm gonna find it." He smiles confidently, "That one was my favourite as a kid."
Willow's legs kick lightly as she sits, and she raises an eyebrow. "You know, the way you shoot I figured you were just kinda... born with a rifle in your hand. No time for kid's stuff like comics." She's just stroking his ego now – not like he needs it, but he sure does love to hear it.
"Yeah, well, that isn't that far from the truth." he replies and leans against the barrier. "Picked up a gun when I was ten and never looked back."
"Ten?!" Willow leans forward a bit, then scoffs. "I wished I could have been playing with guns when I was ten. Your parents must have been cool as hell."
"Never knew my parents." MacCready says quickly and shakes his head. "Grew up in a commune made up entirely of kids."
"I'm sorry, say that again?"
MacCready chuckles. "I know it sounds crazy, but it was a pretty functional community. Everyone looked out for each other, everyone did their jobs and life was alright."
"And what was your job?" Willow asks, and MacCready smiles in a way that tells Willow that whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to be absolutely ridiculous.
"I was the mayor." Yep, there it is. She raises her eyebrows, smiling at him in disbelief, and he shakes his head. "I'm serious!" he says.
"Wow." Willow clicks her tongue. "So, what, when you took over, you all turned on each other and they kicked you out? That's how you ended up here?" she teases.
MacCready rolls his eyes, though his disposition remains lighthearted and playful. "No, actually. I was the best damn mayor Little Lamplight ever had and ever will have." he boasts and Willow scoffs and shakes her head. "I left because I got too old. When you were sixteen, you were officially a mungo. And you had to leave."
"... A mungo?" Willow cocks an eyebrow.
MacCready pauses. "I get the feeling you think I'm making all this up." he says finally which makes Willow laugh.
"Well, I mean, I feel like I would have heard of a commune made entirely of children." she remarks.
"Makes sense you haven't, since Little Lamplight is back in the Capital."
"The Capital?" Willow looks surprised. "You came here all the way from The Capital?"
MacCready nods and finally moves his rifle to his back before he jumps up to sit next to Willow on the barrier. "Yep. Grew up there and then tried to find work, but it's hard to be a mercenary with the Brotherhood breathing down your neck. They're everywhere over there." he laments.
"Maybe you should have joined the Brotherhood." Willow jokes, the sarcasm in her tone heavy.
"Yeah, that sounds about as fun as cleaning the puke off the streets in Goodneighbour." he replies.
The two lock eyes then, and for some reason, neither of them can say a thing, each suddenly rendered speechless. MacCready hadn't noticed until now, but Willow has nice eyes. Green, bordered by thick, black lashes which only make the colour stand out further against her pale complexion. Willow's heart skips a beat as they hold eye contact, and she can feel the discomfort of butterflies in her stomach so she looks away quickly.
"W-Well..." she clears her throat awkwardly, and MacCready turns away as well. "I'm glad you found your way to the Commonwealth." She realizes how sweet this sounds, and quickly adds, "Couldn't find a cheaper mercenary if I tried."
MacCready scoffs at her comment. "I'm sure you could, but not one who's gonna give you as much bang for your buck as I am."
Both of their heads turn then as they hear footsteps approaching quickly, and they spot a man coming hastily down the street, looking intently at Willow. He is tall, lanky, with round wire-framed glasses and a big bag on his hip. Willow recognizes him as a courier, and when he approaches them rather than pass them, she slides off the wall and regards him with curiosity.
"Hey!" the courier greets. He speaks with a southern drawl, and waves awkwardly. Willow says nothing; she simply stares him down and her reticence coupled with her deadpan expression makes the courier shrink away a bit. Especially when MacCready also hops off the wall and joins Willow at her side.
"Can we help you, pal?" MacCready's tone is vaguely threatening, and the courier takes another step back.
"E-Er, um..." he bumbles and adjusts his glasses, then clears his throat and rocks a bit on his heels. "Yeah, um, are you Willow?"
Willow narrows her eyes. "Why?"
The courier puts his hand to his chest. "Because, I got a package here for a lady named Willow whose description matches you pretty darn well."
"From who?" Willow's voice is sharp, impatient.
"Fella in Diamond City," says the courier, "He didn't give me his name. Sorry."
Willow hesitates a moment, then juts her chin out, eyes on the courier's mail bag. "Okay." she says, then holds out her hand. "Give me it."
The courier looks relieved that he has the right person. Or... at least he hopes he does. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small, rectangular parcel wrapped in newspaper and rope, which he hands off to Willow. She takes it quickly and grips it tightly in her hand. The man lingers a moment, as if waiting for a thank you or really any sort of pleasantry, but when he is met only with cold and minacious stares, he steps backwards, stutters out a quick goodbye and turns, jogging off.
MacCready watches him go, then laughs meanly. "That guy looks like a good gust of wind would take him out." he says, but his words are lost on Willow who is staring anxiously down at the parcel in her hands. He turns when he hears no response, eyebrow raising. "Whatcha got?"
Willow shakes her head. "That's... a good question." she says, and then with a shaky hand, she reluctantly pulls on the rope and unwraps the parcel.
As soon as the paper wrapping comes off, a stack of 'missing child' posters fall from her hands and blow into the streets. Some are crumpled, some weathered. Some have ripped corners, some have tape or staples still attached to them. But they all have one thing in common: they all have Maggie's face on them.
"What the heck?" MacCready mutters, as Willow lets the remaining posters fall from her hands to be taken away by the breeze. Her whole body tenses, her eyes wide as they dart around to the posters now littering the ground. There is no name, no letter attached – just torn down missing child posters for the dead child she has been travelling with and working to avenge. She feels sick to her stomach, and she looks up quickly, glassy eyes scanning the horizon.
"Let's go." she whispers, and then turns to walk vigorously from the posters. MacCready lingers a moment, stooping down to pick one up and look it over, but before he can take in much, Willow shouts, "Mac!" and he drops the poster and hurries after her.