If she had to credit one thing to the ghoul, was that he was certainly all business.

Her jumpsuit had been removed again, his array adding to the pile with every tug of straps and buckle being unlatched. He didn't seem to mind her being a captive audience, her quick turnaround from being respectful to downright shameless going unspoken.

She studied his body, a sculpture of brimstone crafted by wrathful hands and a critical eye. A grotesque exhibit of bone and sinew, hidden underneath a heavy canvas that she got to pull away, admire, and touch.

He finally stepped out of his pants (his fucking gloves were still on), and the bed gave a concerning groan as he knelt before her. Unlike the previous times, he seemed very unsure of himself, so hesitant to touch her. His looming body and outstretched limbs overshadowed more than half the bed; a giant old oak, charred at the edges with a white-hot pyre flaming within, the branches strong and thick amidst the ash at its base.

She scooted back, suddenly shy. "We don't have to do this, if, if you don't..."

The ghoul's hazy eyes licked up from her bare legs to her face, his right hand slowly reaching down to brush over her thigh and curve inwards. On an unspoken cue, she widened herself the further his rough fingertips traced down, the pad of his thumb giving a light stroke through the dark, soft hairs that hid her away.

A stretch of her hands, imploring to touch his face. He bent over, completely covering her away from the world, the sharp edge of his jaw and high cliffside of his cheekbones being met with fluttering strokes and gentle traces. The curve of her palm smoothly enveloped the exposed tendons of his cheek. She closed her eyes as the puff of air from his nostrils lightly blew on her face, the hard lines of his mouth meeting her soft lips for a kiss.

BANG

They broke apart instantly as her door flung open.

"I do say, Madame, leaving food in the sink is rather crass." The robotic butler was completely ignorant of the situation as it went about dusting the room on its automated schedule. "But of course, that isn't your problem..."

Charon left the bed to swipe at the side holster he carried, making her sit upright to nab at his elbow.

"You can't shoot him!" she gasped.

"I beg your pardon?" Wadsworth cried indignantly, which they both ignored.

Charon switched the safety off, his tone absolute. "I will dispose of it."

"No!"

The ghoul nearly snapped his head a full 180, making her recoil. "It is unnecessary."

She blew a rude sound. "He cleans my house!"

"It is annoying."

"What the hell isn't to you?!" When he didn't have an answer, she huffed and began to dress in the (clean) vault suit the said 'unnecessary' robot brought for her, the mood now completely soured. "Forget it. I'm going to Moira's."

A disgruntled grumbling was given in reply as he also began to lay claim to his clothes, neither giving a look to the other as they dressed in curt silence. He dutifully followed her out the door, and she pretended to fiddle with the screens on her Pip-Boy as they waited for the shopkeeper to come down.

"So?" Moira clapped some dust from her hands and smeared a line of grease down her front side. "How's it been going? You two been getting on okay?"

"I think I'm ready for more research, actually," she said dryly. Moira was the last of all people she wished to voice her weird relationship with this ghoul to.

Charon, expectantly, didn't contribute any social commentary.

"Oh, goodie! I was wondering when my wonderful assistant would be wanting to continue!"

She dove under the counter to slap a large self-made book onto it, the notes and pictures nearly impossible to translate without context. Moira skimmed some pages, humming in good cheer as she went along.

"A-ha! Here we are! We'll go ahead and be studying the effects of serious injury, so I'll just need you to go out there, break a few limbs, and come right back!" She lifted her head with a wide, go-lucky smile beaming at them. "Easy, right?"

Ghoul and girl both stared before sharing a glance. The glower on Charon's face was easy to read- no fucking way.

"Uh." Evelyn licked her lips. If she were completely honest, she didn't find any appeal in it either. "Anything else?"

"Hmm..." Moira flipped back a chapter. "Hey, now! I almost forgot, we never finished the first segment! We still need to see if combing the Super-Duper Mart is worthwhile for food and possibly medical supplies."

Evelyn thought for a moment. It had been literal weeks since her last trial run, and raiders didn't tend to last too long in one place...she again looked to her companion. This time, she wouldn't be going at it alone, and he was very good at what he did.

"Okay," she agreed after turning back. "Super-Duper Mart it is."

Charon truly could not comprehend how she had survived this long.

He had decided to follow her lead in the beginning, waiting and observing the situation before diving in headfirst. It sounded good on paper, but was shit when implemented by her standards.

"I don't see anything. Looks clear." She shrugged, handing over the binoculars for him to verify.

He grumbled under his breath as he roved the scope around. Fresh cuts of presumably human flesh were littered outside for the birds to pick clean. She would have been caught dead on her oversight.

"Too bad there was no way for Winthrop to put a thermal setting on these," she commented offhandedly. "Although, he did say he could add some features..."

Charon thrust the gear from his face to inspect it more carefully. Was this what he had been rumored working on? He looked at her- she was still chittering nonsense and not paying him any mind. With a slight bend of the frame, he snapped it in half.

"These are defective," he rasped evenly.

"What?!" She went to reach for them. "Where? Are you sure?"

He pointed out the minuscule crack down the line, and she pouted, "Aw...maybe I can see if he can fix it-?"

He tossed the piece of junk over his shoulder. "I will find something of better use."

He jutted his chin to redirect her eyes forward, and she relented, "...okay."

He waited for her to pull out a weapon so as to gauge the best sort of tactic for their approach, but when she continued to sit there and do nothing, he elbowed her bag. "Where is your gun?"

She immediately became defensive. "I told you; I don't use one."

Anything other than a ranged weapon would spell fatality with her. He would have to adapt...but when there was no other sign of anything else being brought forth, he gave her a look.

"I was going to use these," she said a little uncertainly, pulling out two landmines from a side pocket. "Like, put them at the entrance...lure them out..."

He handled one, thinking it over. It would do. He could improvise. It was his job. "Very well," he agreed, taking them both before making his way down the hill.

He set one at each entrance, rigged their charge, and then beat a fist against the frame, nearly shaking it off its hinges. With careful steps around the side of the building for cover, he cradled his shotgun at his chest and glanced over to his employer, hiding in her spot like a mouse. She shyly waved.

A raucous commotion could be heard building up from inside, and the first door opened to the sound of high-pitched beeping and a shout of surprise. Charon waited a breath after the ear-ringing explosion, then snapped his gun level as he came around the bend, automatically taking the first shot of opportunity as a raider barreled out and slipped on some splattered guts. The side of their head misted onto the third fiend giving close chase behind, blinding them temporarily and emitting a howl loud enough for the entire wasteland to hear. A slug blew their face apart, bits of bone and peels of skin sticking to the frame to then slough off at his feet.

The remaining few quickly got smart, but not smart enough as they rerouted through the second entrance- a severed arm still gripping a rusty blade smacked him in the thigh as he flashed his muzzle inside, performing a quick scan for any more hostiles. It was quiet, but he kept strict situational awareness while motioning her to come down.

She was tinged green in the cheeks, staring at the carnage that had transpired in less than ten minutes. A pistol was scooped up, the sticky flesh shook off, and the magazine briefly inspected. He then held it out for her to take.

She looked at it with a deep grimace, her sickly color going sheet-white. "Umm..."

"It is loaded," he simply rasped, thinking back to her other pistol that had been jammed.

He waited for her to take it, but she still just looked at it as though it would bite her. With a quick draw upwards, he held the gun perfectly straight and aimed down range at an imaginary target.

"Aim. Pull." His finger ghosted the trigger. He held it out a second time.

With great reluctance, she took the thing with shaking hands; it almost seemed to weigh her down when she touched it. Somewhat satisfied, he gave a nod and then readied himself.

"Stay close."

They slowly entered, mindful of their steps and surveying the mart- it was ghostly and dark, the empty shelving and scattered tins not promising anything worthwhile. Constructed catwalks over the aisles would have given a raider a clear visual of the duo, but they were lucky the threat had already been dealt with as they navigated the empty halls.

At least, so his employer thought.

She quickly took off in an unknown direction before he could properly clear the area, bounding over a counter and already rifling inside a few bins with her sack open and eagerly awaiting its next meal. Before Charon could bark at her foolishness, he saw the movement in the shadows and disregarded the chastisement as she whipped her head around to the encroaching presence.

The raider had a lead pipe high above his head, ready to be brought down to fracture her skull in two. She held the pistol with wide eyes and an open mouth in a silent scream, the only crack of a gunshot coming from his own weapon. The drug-fueled fiend blew apart in the side, a splash of guts whipping her suit and blood spraying her face.

Charon stalked straight up to her; his temper far more terrifying than the close encounter with death itself. He towered over her as she shrunk back from his lashing ire.

"Stay. Here." He then left, securing the perimeter and ensuring no other guests would appear unannounced. When he was certain they were safe, he rounded back to find her still frozen in spot. The gun was lowered at her side, her entire arm trembling. Her face was ruddy. She had been crying.

"Are you injured?" he rasped.

A simple shake of her head, a close of her eyes.

"Why did you not shoot him?" he questioned.

She could not freeze like that in the future- her survival also rested on her own reaction timing just as much as his did. Charon was good, but not invulnerable to error.

No answer, but a hard bite of her lower lip and some more tears racing down her cheeks. He looked down at her, at this young smoothskin woman that had been sheltered in a Vault and had somehow persisted this long, who had laid claim to his cock and his contract. She was an anomaly to him.

"You have never killed someone." It was a simple fact, but it came out more as a flogging than an observation. She flinched, visibly pained. "You will die if you cannot take a life."

He then spun on his heel, keeping watch as he waited for her to gather whatever supplies she needed to fulfill her task. When her bags were bulging and her tears were dry, they left the remains of the Super-Duper Mart behind them. He did not care to comment on the fact that the gun had been abandoned, as well.

The tap was spun, her fingers dipping in the tepid water, eyes glazed over and far gone. She could see that face, holding no sanity or merciful regard for her own life. Smell his terrible breath, taste the sugary lace of chems from his clothes.

She turned her head to the ghoul sitting on the couch, taking no subtle hint whatsoever to take his leave and grant her her privacy. She would have been frustrated if she did not feel so hollow. He had saved her life...now more than once.

"Thank you," she said softly, turning his head from the front door to her. "For what you did, today."

"It is my duty," he responded in that gravelly, somber tone.

She turned to the side, flicking at the surface of the water to create ripples across its smooth plane. "If...if I gave your contract away, would you shoot me, like you did with Ahzrukhal?"

Their eyes met. He betrayed nothing. "No."

"Guess that's good then," she mumbled sarcastically under her breath. The flat side of her hand smacked the water a few times. "I'd like to enjoy a bath before it gets too cold."

He didn't move, and she tersely huffed, "Um, that kind of means I'd like to be alone, please?"

The front door was once again stared at; he was paranoia on steroids. "It is not safe. I will keep watch." When she was about to groan some form of objection, he added, "There is nothing I have not seen."

She choked on her argument (and some spit) but persevered to preserve whatever moral decency she had. "I would like to bathe in peace and quiet!"

"I am not the one being loud," he rasped flatly.

"I'm not going to ask again!"

His head whipped to her so quickly that she nearly fell into the tub from fright. With a very faint narrowing of his eyes, he said, "Would you rather I stand watch outside?"

The inside of her cheek was nibbled on. That asshole. The ghoul wasn't exactly a crowd pleaser amongst the locals- he frightened them and generally kept everyone at bay...besides Moira, who seemed to be the only person willing to be within two feet of her and her abominable bodyguard. Having him perched on her doorstep just to growl at anyone passing by like some angry dog would only escalate the rumor mill she was sure was already spinning around about her.

Yes. (That was the reason).

Not because it was cold and the air was slightly damp, casting a chill on anyone beyond the warmth of indoors, not due to the fact he would be left out in the dark, exposed to the elements while she enjoyed the refreshment of a salted bath...

"You can keep watch in here," she said dully. "I'm not going to ask you to go outs-"

"Very well," he interrupted, somehow sinking his weight even further into the broken springs and pressed cushions.

He's a person not a dog-he's a person not a dog-he's a fucking asshole and he should totally be left out in a doghouse!

She sighed and reached for the box of scented salts she had the foresight to purchase from Crazy Wolfgang eons ago...the box was already opened, and she tipped it upside down to discover it was already empty. Her head slowly roved to the ghoul that was keeping vigilance on her unmoving doorframe, her nerves fraying one thread at a time.

"You used the whole thing?!" She was flabbergasted. It was almost comical, and she let out a breathy giggle at the thought of this giant one stop bullet-in-the-brain shop ghoul taking a nice reprieve with lavender-infused crystals.

The empty box was thrown at the bin, missing completely. She heard a ghost of a snort from him.

"I really don't know what to do with you," she mumbled to herself, unstrapping her Pip-Boy to set it aside. She rubbed at the area around her wrist and unlaced her boots, pausing at unzipping the suit from her body. "Can't you, like, watch the door from somewhere else, at least?"

The couch breathed relief after he stood, his shotgun taken with him as he went upstairs. Every single step reverberated around the house...it appeared when he wanted to be heard, he absolutely made sure everyone would listen. The creak of a chair met her ears from directly above her, and she glanced up at him spying from the little nook beside the Nuka-Cola machine. The light didn't exactly illuminate the corner very well, so only his faint outline and glowing eyes were visible.

"You went from being obnoxious to just being a creep," she muttered.

A zipper from his pack was opened above, and as she began to unbraid her hair and unshoulder her suit, a large splash of water drenched her before she could even undress completely. She gasped loudly, looking around at all the water soaking her floor. An item had been tossed into the tub...it was another box of salts- Clementine Chamomile! That dickbag had found a replacement at the mart and somehow decided that this was the best opportunity in presenting it to her.

"Ugh!" she bitched, retrieving the sopping wet carton before it could further clump and dissolve.

Screw this! She knelt by the ceramic, scrubbed the blood from her face and neck, quickly wrung out her hair, and stomped up to her bedroom. She threw the shadow demon in the corner a nasty glare before shutting herself inside.

The jumpsuit was hoisted back on, her boots angrily laced tight, and her scarf wound a dozen times around her neck- she dark-humoredly considered fashioning it into a noose. She flung her door open and stormed back downstairs to throw her blood-spattered vault suit into the tub. (Might as well not waste reasonably clean water).

"I'm going to give Moira the scoop," she called up, her eyes trained on fastening her Pip-Boy back in place. "You can-"

"I will stay here."

Evelyn paused in securing the latch, looking upwards with serious doubt. "...really?"

A nod was given. "Be cautious."

"Um, okay?" She shook her head, feeling uneasy rather than relieved at this sudden change. She lingered in the living room for a few minutes and fidgeted with the straps of her pack, unsure as to why she was feeling so anxious.

"Is there something you require?" he rasped plainly.

"No..." She went for the door. "Be back in a few."