The change in hands was a pleasant surprise. The aftermath, however, was not.

She must have known this would have been the inevitable outcome upon purchasing his contract, but she still refused it. It was nonsense, it was pointless to argue, and it was aggravating. It was some small miracle his conditioning kept him from pitting the base of his thumbs in her neck and just squeezing...at least until she just stopped being so loud. He assimilated very quickly to filter out anything that wasn't a general order, otherwise, he would've gone feral. (He was most certain of that). Her mouth was running a hundred miles an hour, and they were lucky the road to her doorstep had been relatively safe without her screeching attracting anything that was looking for an easy meal.

A metallic snapping sound granted his ears respite from her mouth. He finally gave her his full attention, for judging by her sudden silence and grim demeanor, something was wrong.

"Uh, oh..." she mumbled, holding up the broken end of a key. In her fit, she had paid little mind to her strength when coercing her door to unlock, and broke the key in the knob as a result. She looked behind at him, sheepish. "Um...you don't know how to fix that...do you?"

He placed his hand over the knob, gave it a sharp twist, and braced his weight in the frame to force it open. He stepped inside, leaving her to gawp at his improvised handyman skills, and was immediately assaulted with an iron pot to the face.

Thud!

"How dare you, you oversized, pea-brained oaf!" A Mister Handy came whirring down the stairs. "I will defend my Madam's (ghastly) estate with every ounce of my-!"

"Wadsworth!" His employer teleported between his loaded shotgun slugs and the robot's ultimate demise. "Down! Charon is not a threat!"

He instantly lowered his barrel to the floor from ingrained trigger discipline, although it didn't wipe the nasty snarl from his face. That pot would've crushed his nose if he still had one.

"But Madam, he broke the door!" it wailed.

"I know!" She then turned around, motioning with a hand at the entrance. "You broke my fucking door!"

His brow muscle nearly twitched right off his face. He should've shot Winthrop before she had stopped him...it would have been another nice memory to replay while having to listen to this.

A grumble rolled off his tongue as he moved past her to set his bags on the crudely fashioned table. There was a loud groan, a crack, and the table folded in half as the obscene layers of duct tape that held it together ripped perfectly down the middle. Her jaw hung so low he was sure it would touch the floor. He took a seat on the tiny chair (the severe dip of the base slightly worried him) and he looked to her, awaiting his orders. After her earlier outbursts, he was completely unsure as to what she would require of him.

For once, she kept her lips sealed tight, sat at the foot of the stairs, and waved the robot to its station. "Go ahead and power down, Wadsworth."

The Mister Handy gave him a squinted optic (he assumed it was glaring at him) and deactivated at its stand. They both then sat there, the door still wide open, the ray of light from her house casting a thin illumination to the dark beyond. She had her hands in her lap and eyes far-off into the distance. He sat straight (for the chair had no back) and stared at her. After minutes of silence, she looked at something on the screen of her Pip-Boy, and turned her head to meet his gaze.

"Moriarty's has rooms to rent. You can stay there for the night since it's so late and, um..." Her eyes darted to the single mattress that they had just shared yesterday. She turned bright red and hugged herself tightly before looking back outside. "We can talk more about your contract tomorrow. I'm pretty tired...I can imagine you are too."

He shook his head. "I do not require sleep."

She gave him a weird look. "Pardon?"

"I do not require sleep."

"I can't tell if that's a joke."

"It is not."

"Um...okay..." She appeared exhausted, wiping at her face with her hands.

The air between them was stiff and uncomfortable, and then both their eyes landed on the bed. He felt a twitch in his pants. She was giving him that look- the one before they kissed. Then she turned away right as his dick got hard.

"Obviously I'll let you decide what you want to do. You know where the bar is, there's the caps. If you'd rather stay here," she lamely gestured to the minimalist ruined furnishings, "there's food in the fridge and the bathrooms are up the hill." She deeply sighed and looked at the door. "I guess I should try and fix that. Somehow."

An expectant look was thrown at him. He didn't say anything, and she took the hint. She mumbled under her breath as she tried closing the frame- he had also busted a hinge off- and ended up laying strips of duct tape down the side of the trim. She gave him a shrug of her shoulders after he simply shook his head, but he ultimately kept quiet.

"Yeah, like you got anything better," she snarked, grabbing the side of her mattress to begin dragging it up the stairs.

For the next thirty minutes, he remained in his place and watched his employer's pathetic attempts at lugging the thing up by herself. It appeared awkward to handle and heavy enough for one person to struggle with...he ate a can of cram as he offered no help whatsoever. It certainly wasn't his duty to. She cursed and wiped sweat from her forehead, and twice had the unfortunate luck of it wobbling off the staircase back to the ground floor. (Twice he had to lift a boot to veer it away from falling on him). A small pile of emptied goods was at his side when she finally made it to the second floor and shimmied it into another room.

All was then quiet for a few hours. He figured she must have finally fallen asleep.

A light breeze picked up and peeled the tape away from the doorframe. He didn't bother reattaching each tedious strip, not even as he left to take a leak. He concluded his business on the wall by the doorstep (to keep any would-be trespassers within scope), rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck side to side as he eventually looked up to the sky. He never had the opportunity to see so many stars when he wasn't traveling, and the lull of (false) security and zero expectation of being somewhere at a certain time was...relaxing (almost disarming), in a way.

Charon came back in and performed a wellness check- her door was already slightly cracked, so he widened it to get a clear visual. She was fast asleep, curled in a tight ball and lightly snoring, with a rather large pool of drool darkening her sheets. He closed it, making sure the frame was actually secured this time, and resumed cleaning out her kitchen of anything and everything.

He snooped through the locker (the door squealed horribly), picking up a 10mm pistol that had dirt crusted in the crevices, and a round jamming the chamber. The slide was pulled, the gun turned over and shaken, and the bullet clinked at his feet. He checked the magazine- it was the only bullet to have been expended. There was a pile of books, something wrapped in cloth, and a sad-looking teddy bear. He didn't find the knife he had given her; he assumed she had sold it.

The chair had a permanent dip to it after the hours he had spent sitting in it. He watched the slow rise of the sun chasing away the darkness- it was difficult to tell the passage of time in Underworld, so this was something he would become accustomed to.

Evelyn awoke early and came down wearing a simple choice of wastelander's clothes. She stopped before hitting the bottom step, looking out the wide-open front door he had never bothered to shut.

"I thought about this contract thing a lot last night," she said indirectly. She was still staring out the entrance, the warm light basking just below her feet. "I'm not gonna lie and say I understand it, or the situation it forces you in..." Her face turned to look at him, just as the sun flooded high enough to swell over her like a golden tide. "If you want to leave with someone else, tell me. If you want to stay here, that's fine. Just...don't wait on me to tell you what to do or anything, it's weird. I just want you to be yourself."

He could only nod- she was honest, in that she didn't understand anything. So long as she held ownership of his contract, he was sure she would come to figure out its boundaries and limitations. They all did...eventually.

She stretched, satisfied with his nonverbal answer, and went to the fridge. It was empty. "O-kay, guess I need to go out."

The house was a disaster. Her door was hanging off one hinge, her table was its own pile of rubble, and a fucking murderous, grumpy ass ghoul was taking permanent residence on the only piece of furniture that had not yet been destroyed by him. YET.

No matter how she tried to word herself to make it sound like she wasn't directly ordering him to, he wouldn't stop following her. Her shadow had grown three times its size- everyone stared. She even slammed the door in his face trying to gain some privacy for the bathroom (and some breathing room), but he merely leaned against the frame outside and growled at anyone that passed too close.

"Stop it! You're scaring people!" she finally snapped at him after he made sweet little Maggie burst into tears.

He gave her a blank look, his tone bone-dry. "I am being myself, as you have asked."

Her eyes almost rolled out of her head, and she dipped inside Craterside Supply just to get him off the streets. Moira's hired mercenary in the corner gave Charon a solid once-over; the ghoul repeated the gesture with a very clear message of I will wipe the floor with you.

Evelyn rang the service bell more than was necessary and set the duffel bag full of caps on the counter. If Charon was going to eat her out of house and home, then she was going to take full advantage of him while he did so. She tugged at the scarf around her neck- it was hot!

Charon immediately grabbed her chin with one hand and turned her head to the side.

She panicked and tried not to flinch away from his unexpected touch. "What the fuck?! What is it?!"

"You are injured," he rasped plainly, zeroing in on the purple and yellowed bruising of her skin.

She pulled away, not meeting his hawk-like eyes as they scrutinized her. Moira's living theft- preventative was watching them closely. She batted at his hand as he reattempted to inspect it.

"Stop it!" she hissed lowly. "That was from you!"

"I do not recall," he confessed, his deep voice vibrating around the room.

She glared up at him. "Are you serious?" she asked stupidly. Her face was so red she was afraid it would burst. "From, you know." She flailed her hands around. "The other day? When we-uh-"

He remained silent and blinked. He did not seem to draw a correlation between the two.

She cupped a hand around her mouth as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "When you came over," she said as quietly as possible.

"During sex?" Charon bluntly asked aloud, just as Moira bounced behind the counter.

Evelyn gave a horrified gasp and whipped her eyes forward, trying to ignore the sweltering heat creeping up her neckline. She awkwardly coughed and rushed through whatever Moira was about to say. "What the fuck can two thousand caps get me for my house?!" she blurted, unzipping the duffel bag to spill a load of caps onto the counter.

It worked, as the eccentric shop owner's face went from mildly curious to absolutely thrilled. "Wow! I guess all those jobs you've been doing have really been paying off, huh?" Moira grinned, turning her attention to Charon. "I see you're back in town!"

He said nothing but glared at her.

"You-you said you had a bedframe, yeah? And that tub?" Evelyn successfully returned the focus back to herself before she could ask for any more details about her (permanent) visitor. "I also need a new table...and chair."

"Well, I have a whole layout if you're interested. Oh! There's also this working Nuka-Cola machine I just finished putting together! I was going to use it for some experimentation on the properties of-"

"Yeah, great!" Evelyn never thought of herself as to interrupt someone until Moira had stepped into her life. They would be there for hours. "I'll take it. We'll take all of it."

"We?" Moira chimed. "Hey now, is this a setup for two?"

Evelyn withheld a groan and motioned to the door. "So...what are we buying?"

The entire overhaul took the rest of the mid-morning and late afternoon. Her back became so sore she thought she would be hunched over and crippled for the rest of her life as she carried box after box after fucking box to set up a cozier homestead. She knew it had been long overdue...but she guessed she never had much of a reason to have wanted to make it home, before.

Not like Charon was the reason for it, anyway. Just an excuse.

A big, grumpy, prick of an excuse that didn't lift a single finger to help. He even let herself and Moira carry the tub over- that almost threw out her shoulders from their joints, but after settling it in place and having Walter come down to fit some piping, it had been so fucking worth it. It was awkward in the living room and took a whole corner, but yes indeed, it was worthy. A workbench was placed into the spare bedroom, along with some gun racks mounted on the wall. They were the only items he had pointed to when she had asked him of wanting anything.

"You know," she tersely remarked after dumping an empty steam trunk at the foot of her 'new' bed. "It wouldn't kill you to help."

He was leaned up against the door (that Moira had fixed for her). "Is that an order?" he asked. She swore there was sarcasm in there.

You bastard. She put her hands on her hips, blowing a hair from her face. "Well, no, but-"

"Very well," he replied just as plainly...and then he remained in spot, watching her mill about with those heavy brows and toasty glaring.

The very last item- the soda machine- was in pristine condition and set to go up the stairs inside a nice little nook by a small table and chair. The bitch was heavy enough with the assistance of a dolly and some straps...and as she looked at the feat before her, she felt frustrated enough to cry.

"There's no way I'm getting this up there," she mumbled. Two people couldn't fit side by side on the steps...and she wasn't strong enough by herself. She noted bitterly, "Bet if Winthrop were here, he'd help-"

The ghoul left his spot, nabbed the handle from her, and effortlessly climbed the stairs with it in tow. The entire house shook after it was set in place, and he leaned over the railing to peer down at her.

"Is there anything else you require?" he asked sharply.

She crossed her arms and scoffed. "No, but thank you."

She was finally allowed a moment to rest, and plopped on the dusty couch in the center of her living room. She would have never recognized this place if she hadn't put her own blood, sweat, and tears into the extensive transformation. (Wadsworth only made the comment of oh, joy, even more for me to clean...) It would seem these past few days were all about major changes. Her eyes came to settle on her newfound 'partnership'.

She didn't know if all of those changes were good.

Simms eventually came by to inquire about her reappearing guest, and she did her best to ensure him that the ghoul would be on his most solid behavior...until a certain ex-raider nearly got himself killed, thereby not even upholding the statement for a single day, that is.

She had been organizing her stuff upstairs when a knock came pounding on the door. She came down and discovered him missing. It was a swell of relief (she ignored the disappointment) until she noticed his stuff was still in place. She had told him to do whatever...so, whatever. She assumed whoever it was, wasn't Charon (as she wouldn't have a door anymore). She swung it open and assumed correctly. Her eyes narrowed at the man.

"May I help you?" she asked sarcastically. "Do you realize what time it is?"

Jericho twiddled a cigarette around his lips, leering over her shoulder for a glance inside. "Nice digs. Where's your fucking shuffler? Heard we got a new maggot farm in town."

"That is incredibly rude!" Evelyn shunted the door closed to prevent him from scoping out the place any longer. She crossed her arms and glowered. "I'm going to ask you to leave. Now."

He puckered on his smoke, the ember cherry brightening his sneer. "You fucking that zombie, girl? That's some sick shit."

Slap!

Her palm stung after swinging back to her side, his burning smoke rolling to the ground. The blood under her skin was boiling, and before she could bite at him to fuck right off, he lifted a fist to retaliate. His arm was swiftly nabbed from behind, and then snapped. Charon's outline stepped out of the shadows, his entire visage reading murder. Evelyn startled back as Jericho was hovered off his feet, his windpipe being crushed by a single hand to prevent the cry of anguished screaming as his limb hung at an abnormal angle. She could hear the cartilage of his throat cracking. The ghoul's fingers reached all the way around.

Jericho was then dropped to his knees, wheezing faint cries and trying to crawl away from the pair of white-hot flames that burned through the darkness at him. The ghoul unholstered a side pistol and swiftly planted it at the backside of Jericho's head.

"Holy shit Charon, don't kill him!" she panicked. He obeyed, putting his gun away. "Shit, we have to get him to Doc Church-!"

Charon nabbed the man by the collar of his jacket, lifted him a second time, and tossed him over the railing towards the medical clinic. They both watched as he rolled down the hill to eventually come to a stop in a pile of brahmin shit. Close enough.

She gaped at him, and he curtly shrugged.

"Oh my-come here!" Evelyn brusquely dragged the ghoul by the hand and locked them back inside. "This isn't The Ninth Circle, Charon! I'm not fucking Ahzrukhal! I don't need you to potentially kill people! I can handle myself!"

He snorted, "I do not think so."

A heartfelt gasp. The ghoul hadn't said so much as a handful of words to her all day, and he decides to end it with that?!

"You know what, fuck you!" she growled. "Take that stupid fucking contract, and shove it up your ass with God knows what else up there!"

She stomped up the steps to her room and slammed the door shut. She took it back. She took every word back. She never wanted to see that hulking, scowling, asshole ghoul ever again.