The sound of gunfire is so distant that neither Willow nor MacCready pay it any mind as they sit upon the rusting platform of an old billboard. MacCready sits comfortably, his back against the ruined sign, and reads through Willow's beloved copy of Grognak the Barbarian: Enter Maula, Warmaiden from Mars. In front of him, Willow has seated herself right at the edge of the platform. Heights don't really frighten her, and so the fact that they are stationed several stories up on a decrepit old metal terrace does little to bother the woman.

As she kicks her legs gently she turns her head to peer over her shoulder. MacCready appears to be absolutely captivated by the colourful pages which rest in his lap, and Willow finds the sight even more enchanting than the cloud-covered sunset before her. She smiles to herself, then says, "How's Grognak?"

"Man," MacCready grins and shakes his head, but his eyes do not leave the comic, "I forgot how good this one was."

"Right?!" Willow's voice is shrill, triumphant, "I told you – it's the best one."

MacCready chuckles. "Don't know about that. But it's definitely up there."

At that, Willow rolls her eyes and regards him for another moment before she turns back to the orange coloured sky and lets her shoulders fall contentedly. She gazes thoughtfully outward for some time, listening to the ambience of the Wasteland and taking comfort in the sound of MacCready occasionally turning pages behind her. And when the clouds eventually begin to impede her view of the hues of twilight, she pulls her journal from her bag and flips through it until she finds an empty page.

When she reaches into her pocket for her pen, her fingers bump against the caps left over from that afternoon and she smiles fondly as she recalls how much fun she'd had being absolutely and unapologetically ridiculous. She is also impressed that she and MacCready had been able to pull their scheme off; he was right when he said they made a good team. It leaves Willow thankful that he had not abandoned her in that old factory, and she can't help but feel that he may share the sentiment. Or, at the very least, she hopes he does.

Her eyes narrow, and carefully, she closes her journal. She places it beside her, pushing it backwards so as to not accidentally send it hurtling over the ledge, and then digs the caps from her pocket.

She counts them and splits them evenly into two piles, then deposits one of the piles back into her coat before she pulls her legs up and turns to face MacCready, sitting cross-legged.

He looks up when he hears her turning and meets her gaze, then smiles lightly at her. "Yeah?" he asks. His eyebrows raise as she holds a small handful of caps out to him. "What's that for?" He eyes her as he slowly closes the comicbook but does not reach out for the money in her hand.

"Your half of our loot today," she says and shakes her hand, then whines, "Take it, my arm's getting sore..."

MacCready watches her a moment longer but then reaches out and takes the caps. "Huh." He jostles them so that they jingle softly, then moves to put them away. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Willow shrugs dismissively. "It was a team effort, so..."

"Yeah, well I appreciate it." MacCready says sincerely. "Honestly, I need all the caps I can get. So... Yeah. Thanks."

Willow places her hands in her lap and studies MacCready's face as she tilts her head inquisitively. "You're telling me you aren't just a mercenary for the fun of it?" she jokes in an attempt to fish for more information without asking directly, and MacCready takes the bait.

"Believe me, as much as I just love murdering people," he tuts sarcastically and rolls his eyes, "No, I don't do it for fun. I do it because the caps are good. Or... Sometimes they are."

Willow's brow furrows. "If it's about the caps, then why not just stay with the Gunners?" she asks.

"Because they're savages." MacCready says quickly and shakes his head. He wears a troubled expression as he looks out to the darkening sky. "They kill anything that gets in their way. At least when people hire a mercenary to kill someone for them, it's usually for a good reason." He sighs, fists balling.

"You didn't know that before you joined them?" Willow asks, eyes narrowing.

MacCready shakes his head again, his blue eyes flicking back to Willow. "No, I didn't." he defends himself. "We don't have Gunners in the Capital. And when I joined up, I hadn't been in the Commonwealth long enough to know that they were basically just... raiders with better funding."

Willow supposes that's fair and she nods in understanding. It is good at least to know that MacCready has morals. She feels like the pressure to make eye-contact with the man is too much when she is sitting right across from him though, so she crawls on her hands and knees to the wall of the billboard and sits against it, settling beside him instead.

"So... what are the caps for, then?" she asks him softly, then blows air from her nose, "Or... is that a secret?"

"Well, it's not something I usually go around telling people, but..." But I like you. The words almost leave MacCready's mouth but he doesn't let them, lest Willow get the wrong idea or something. His feelings have thus far been complicated in regards to the woman and he is guarded with his heart – but one thing he is willing to admit is that he sees her less as his employer now and more as his friend. He enjoys her company, likes her as a person despite her quirks. He sighs, "Well... I was hoping to save up enough caps to pay off Winlock and Barnes so that they'll leave me the fu– er... leave me the hell alone."

Willow blinks a few times, then narrows her eyes as she grimaces at him. "How many caps you think that will take?" she asks dismally.

"Honestly... I don't know." MacCready sighs and lets his head fall back against the billboard, "I don't even know that they'll honour any deal I make with them. Knowing them," he shifts uncomfortably, "they're probably more likely to take my caps and then put a bullet in my head for good measure."

Willow had figured that. "So then... What's even the point?" she asks.

MacCready glances to her, then back out at the sunset. "Well it's not like I really have a choice." he speaks with resignation, and a familiar feeling of hopelessness settles in his stomach like a brick.

"Just kill them and be done with it." Willow scoffs, and MacCready does the same.

"Don't you think if it were that easy, I would have done it already?" he retorts. "Winlock and Barnes keep a small army of Gunners with them at all times. It's not something I could do alone." Then, an idea flashes through his mind and before he can stop himself, he adds, "Unless..."

The word grabs Willow's attention, and she turns to look at him, leaning forward expectantly. "Unless...?"

MacCready debates whether or not he should follow up on that train of thought, but reluctantly, he does. "Well... Maybe you and I could go in there together. You know... teach them a lesson before they can even figure out what hit them."

Willow quirks an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to help you kill off some Gunners?" she asks in amusement, which pulls a groan from MacCready.

"Listen. I wouldn't even be asking you if I didn't trust you, or think you were capable." he replies, then makes the mistake of turning his head and catching sight of Willow's smug face. He frowns, sighs, and shakes his head, "You know what, never mind—"

"Wait!" Willow laughs and nudges him. A few feet away from them, Willow can see Maggie and her disapproving gaze from the corner of her eye as she genuinely considers MacCready's request. It's an unnecesarry risk for her to undertake – but at the same time, she has come to care about MacCready as more than just a bodyguard. Perhaps once they part ways they will never speak to each other again – but that does not mean she doesn't care about what happens to him. Besides, she enjoys his company, and so if this little detour will lengthen the amount of time they get to spend together then it's a worthy endeavour.

At the very least, it would be good practice for Quincy. So, she grins and asks, "Where can we find them?"

MacCready blinks and sits up in stunned silence for half a moment, before he fights back a toothy smile. "Wait, really?!" he asks in disbelief, and Willow laughs again.

"Yeah!" she shrugs, "Why not? Let's kill those motherfuckers."

"Huh." MacCready sits back. "You sure?" he asks, eliciting a nod from Willow. He smiles softly with resolve and enjoys briefly the feeling of companionship he shares with the woman beside him. "Wow, I-I don't know what to say..."

"Well, you could start by telling me where to find them, dumbass." Willow snorts, and MacCready chuckles.

"Alright, alright." He appreciates Willow and her good-natured mouthiness in this moment. "They have a stronghold up at the Mass Pike Interchange." he tells her, then blows air from his nose as his voice grows a bit softer. "Look, if you change your mind... I'm not going to hold it against you."

Willow smiles and clicks her tongue. "What do I look like to you? A little bitch?" she ribs him, then closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against the billboard comfortably. "You know what, don't answer that."

"Yeah, well... for the record, you don't." MacCready says and watches her fondly for a moment, before he casts his gaze upon the now darkened night sky. Though the sky is mottled with clouds, the stars still seem to shine through in clusters, and their resilient shimmer almost seems to fuel MacCready's hopefulness. He enjoys the quietude between them and so too does Willow, but before she can fall asleep to the lullaby of the Wasteland beneath them, he nudges her lightly.

"Hey," he says softly, and Willow's eyes flutter open, "Thank you."

Willow bites back a smile and shuts her eyes again. "Shh." she scolds him, "I was sleeping."

"Like hell you were." he doubts her with a chuckle, then turns away again and lets his own eyelids fall.

Even with her eyes closed, Willow can feel Maggie's cold stare of displeasure boring into her. But for once, she doesn't care. She wants to do this.

For him.