"Welcome to Moriarty's," Gob began before he turned, "shit, uh, I mean, welcome to Gob's."
He froze at the sight that had walked in.
Evelyn took her seat with Charon standing awkwardly behind her. She spun around. "Please sit and act normal, for once. We're not going to get stabbed, or anything."
He flexed his hands into fists, but relented and took a spot against the wall at her side, folding his thick arms over his chest and hawking her every move for any subtle cue.
She laid some caps down, sharing another look with Charon. "You want something?" A simple shake of his head, his glower flaying Gob's soul from his body as he slowly shuffled closer. She hissed, "Stop it!"
Gob not so subtly tried to ignore the homicidal elephant in the room glaring poisoned-tipped arrows at him. "So, uh-"
She thrust a thumb over her shoulder. "I saw the sign. Gob's Saloon. What happened?" She ignored the thick lob of spit jamming her throat. No one was giving her second glances...for now, everything seemed okay.
Charon growled as Gob set a beer down.
"Yeah," he rasped uncertainly. "Moriarty went out for his usual smoke. The railing came off the side, and he went along with it. Wasn't too pretty."
She turned, offering Charon her beer. "Here."
He stared at it but didn't budge.
She sighed as she came back around, twirling her bottle in circles on the countertop. "That's...umm..." She shrugged. "Unfortunate?"
"Damn lucky if you ask me, smoothskin." Gob picked up a rag. "It's almost too good to be true, if I'm being honest. I keep waiting for him to come back through that front door."
Evelyn took a swig, distracting her tongue for a moment. She had done it- it had worked!
A faint whiff of cigarettes and the sweet tang of jet sat beside her.
"Hey kid." Nova gave her a wink, looking up at the giant ghoul. "You got him wrapped around that little finger, huh?"
Evelyn ignored the weirdly specific comment that was absolutely true (and for all the wrong reasons). She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling much too hot under her collar. "So...how is, everything? Better?"
Nova pulled out a crinkled cigarette and gave her a teasing grin, completely ignoring the specter glaring down at her. The smoke was lit. "Moriarty being gone is one of the best things to have ever happened to this town...and probably, one of the worst." She flicked the ash to her boots. "No one contested to Gob taking ownership of the bar...hell, he pretty much ran the place himself already, but it's still living under the shadow of Moriarty's thumb." She gave Charon an appreciative once-over. "I think your guy can help with that."
Evelyn kept her eyes on her drink. "Keep the drunks in line and the assholes outside?"
Nova winked. "Bingo." She tilted her head to the side, the bare skin of her throat an ivory river down the open seam of her shirt. "What do you say, big boy?" Charon didn't grace her with anything, and so she muttered, "Not much of a talker, is he?"
"You have no idea," Evelyn mumbled in return. She picked at a hangnail on her thumb. She was inwardly stalling...but this is what she wanted, wasn't it? Why was it so hard to spit out the words she had been chewing on all day?
"May I talk to you?" she whispered conspiratorially to Gob. "Alone?"
The necrotic duo shared a glance over her head. Nova raised a freshly plucked eyebrow.
"Uh-" Gob started uneasily.
Evelyn stood and pointed at her deathstalker bodyguard. "Just wait here, okay?"
Charon muttered something sourly, shifting his weight to the other foot and surveying the few patrons.
The other ghoul followed her into the back room, where she closed the door and fumbled with her pocket.
"What's this all about, smoothskin?" Gob couldn't beat the nervous tick from his tone even if he tried. She assumed he would perhaps die with it.
Evelyn tucked a hair behind her ear, the stocked items on the shelf suddenly becoming of great interest. "Charon shot Ahzrukhal." His eyes grew wide at the information, and she felt her lips move at such speed she feared it would never cease. "I can't be with him anymore, Gob! He needs to be somewhere, I didn't want the stupid thing, I tried to give it up, God, he's-he's-"
The door burst open, a shotgun hounding through the small space to land directly on the innocent ghoul cowering in the corner.
"Charon!" She darted in his line of fire. "I told you to wait!"
The red ghoul scowled and lowered his gun. "I heard you in distress."
She instead turned to Gob, who was still flinching a mile a minute. "See, see?! This isn't- hold on." She snagged the bigger ghoul's arm to drag him completely inside and shut the door from potential eavesdroppers. "Okay. I'm just going to keep it simple. Gob, this is for you."
The piece of paper was held out, both pairs of hazy eyes zeroing in on it.
Gob still wouldn't move.
Charon burned a hole through her skull.
"What?" she snapped up at him. Her voice grew a little hoarse. "I told you I didn't want it!" When she swiveled her head back to the new bar house owner, she shook it. "Gob, please. Just take it, and, and, and everything will make sense."
Her feet took some slow steps to build a bridge between them, his eyes never leaving that flimsy piece of paper.
"Smoothskin," Gob finally rattled, his garbled voice sounding like a tin can being kicked in the wind, "what are you doing?"
"This is Charon's contract." Her fingers tightened on it, as though she thought twice about letting it go. "It's why he is the way he is. It's what I tried to help him with. It's why he's with me."
Gob licked the cracked edges of his mouth, for once addressing the big guy hulking across the way. "Is-grk-is that true?"
Charon's hands were molded fists, a faint tremble coursing through them, barely susceptible to the naked eye. He gave a single, slow nod.
Gob shook his head a little, and then furiously. "Smoothskin...that's-"
"I know." The contract was curled down to her side, and she took a breath before facing her newfound problem. "Well? Do you have anything to say about this?" He didn't. "Yeah, don't know why I thought you would..."
"Why are you doing this?" Gob asked her suddenly. He went for the door. "You know what? Nevermind. This is too much."
"Wait, Gob." She got in his path, and the hulking mass at her back made him hesitate in brushing past. "I don't know what to do."
He smacked his hands to his chest. "And you think I do?! No." Another sidestep, and she reluctantly let him go. "Sorry smoothskin, but I don't want any part of this. I got my own issues to worry about."
Gob left them alone, and she eventually came out to raised voices.
"As of yesterday, I'm retired. Take your ass upstairs and get the job done yourself," Nova said testily to a most unpleasant, familiar face.
Jericho.
"That's a load of shit," he scowled in return, taking hold of her arm despite her squirming. "Moriarty ain't been dead for more than twenty-four hours, and you think you and that rotbag over there now run this joint?"
Gob came over, a baseball bat in his hands...that was shaking. "Let h-her go, Jericho. I-"
"You what, zombie?" the ex-raider spat, eyeing the weapon being held so timidly with a chuckle. "You going to hit me, huh? Don't think I won't fight back?"
Evelyn took a step forward to intervene, but Charon halted her at the shoulder. He then stepped past, and everyone became quiet as he slowly came close, just standing and staring at the man.
Jericho sneered, "What the fuck are you looking at, you ugly motherfucker."
Charon gave no reply- he didn't so much as blink. He took a step, and then another, and Evelyn witnessed a bead of sweat drip from Jericho's forehead. Nova was released, and he scrambled back a few feet before Charon came too close.
"You know what? Fuck this," he growled, unable to hide the slight terror in his voice. "This place is a shithole anyway, beer smells like piss." He shoved a few others from his path as he gave an uneasy look over his shoulder to the unmoving mountain of burnt flesh.
"Outta my way!" he barked, and then the door swung shut behind him.
Nova let out a breath. "Thanks, big boy."
Evelyn felt a scratch on the inside of her eyeballs at the nickname.
Gob lowered his weapon, sheepish. "Yeah...thanks." He watched the duo then leave his bar, the wheels turning inside his brain.
There was no comment to be made, partly because he felt no certain way about her offer of his contract to another. He was unsure as to why she was so adamant in exchanging it, especially if not for something of value in return. He felt he did his duty to her well...he did not know what he had done wrong. Ultimately, this was her decision to be made, and he did not have a choice in the matter.
Although...it would come with its perks.
He was watching her speak with the store owner that he was most inclined to put a bullet in. She was most certainly trying to dispose of his employer (which made his job that much harder) with these bizarre 'projects' she endeavored her on. How his employer did not see the underlying motive in her death befuddled him. She just must be stupid, that much he was confident of.
"...and that would conclude the final chapter. D'aww! We're so close to finishing! So! Did you want to start with Rivet City's history or the library? Oh! We almost skipped over serious injury, and we can't forget that!"
Evelyn gulped. "Um...how bad of an injury, again?"
They were both startled after he slammed a fist on the counter, rattling everything on the surface. "No."
"Charon, please go wait outside," she ordered him dully. "Sorry, Moira. What did you need to study?"
The shock on the woman's face quickly reverted back to ecstatic eagerness. She rubbed at her chin in consideration of how to maim his employer. His hand crept off the counter back down to his side. Evelyn completely ignored his silent ire.
"Very well," he growled, turning on his heel as Moira began to detail the obvious plot of her demise.
"Well, maybe a broken limb or two should do the trick-"
The door was slammed shut with all of his brewing anger and strength, shaking the foundations of the building and echoing his unwanted sentiments. He eyed the railing for a split second and then made up his mind just as quickly. He laid out his left arm across the metal piping, locking his elbow and curling the fingers tightly in his palm. He ignored the curious eyes of random settlers watching him, released a deep exhale through his nose, and then slammed his other arm directly over and down. A sharp snarl ripped from his throat as his left shoulder and elbow dislocated whilst a visible chunk of white bone poked out from the flesh. He came back after the white stars had faded, dropping his skewered limb on the table between them. Their yapping instantly died, and Evelyn's eyes went wide.
"There," he groused through clenched teeth.
"Holy shit Charon-!" She instinctively reached out to touch it.
"Don't," he snapped at her, and then he gave the crazy smoothskin his best glare and motioned to his injury.
"Um, o-kay!" Moira rubbed her hands together, clearly unsettled by his tactic. "Let's get you over here for a moment, shall we?"
He drowned out the meaningless blathering as she took notes and asked questions he gave nonverbal answers to. His employer nervously watched and fidgeted more than usual. The hired mercenary in the corner seemed to placate himself around him...it brought some small sense of self-satisfaction.
"Okay, now just hold still..." The bone was reset, and he grunted, brusquely rubbing at his eyes. She stood back, seemingly satisfied with her work. "There! All done! No biggie, right?"
"He also has a burn in his side," Evelyn said sharply. "Can you look at that as well?"
He threw her a nasty glare. "That is not necessary."
"It is." Her tone left no room for arguing. "Go ahead."
He grumbled as he stripped down to his shirt to raise it enough for the smoothskin to treat. When she finished, he collected his assorted gear as he inwardly seethed.
Evelyn didn't say another word to him. She pocketed some caps and pulse grenades and then refused to so much as look at him while she stomped back home. He watched her eye the saloon once more before entering. She blustered upstairs and into the spare room she let him work in, and then came back down with his duffel bag in hand. She thumped it on the table, shoved the payment she had received inside, and then threw it at him.
"Here," she spat. "Your contract is in there too. Get out."
He blinked. Why was she suddenly so angry? She was crying.
"I cannot," he rasped much too calmly, as though the woman before him wasn't having some sort of cataclysmic meltdown. "You are my employer until my contract-"
"I don't care!" She went to the door and flung it open, waving her hand at him. "Go pick your own! Goodbye!"
He set the bag down. "Was there something I had done wrong?"
"You broke your fucking arm!" she practically shrieked. "You won't let me help you when I try-"
He interposed with a snarl, "I do not need help."
She ignored him and continued in her ranting. "-like dear God, you are not normal, by any means! I'm not suited for this, you're just way too much! I came out of perfectly living in a Vault to realizing my whole fucking life was one big lie, and I don't need you complicating that any further!" She crossed her arms and stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. "Now please leave. Grab whatever else and just get out of my life."
"Is that an order?"
"I will shoot you if you don't go!"
"Violence on your end invalidates our contract," he rasped automatically. When the light of her teary eyes brightened, he threatened, "I will be forced to retaliate by any means necessary."
She visibly thought it over, and then her shoulders slumped. Good...he wasn't in the mood to blow her to chunks, anyways.
There was a stiff silence thinning her lips, and so he picked up his bag and resumed up the stairs, depositing it on the workbench whilst she slammed the door to her room. The conversation appeared to be over.
The same passage in one of her many scavenged books had been reread (without actually being read) a hundred times over before the knocking came at her door. She had been determined to die in the small space amongst her sheets, literature, and smelly laundry (slowly becoming its very own fauna in the corner) until the knocking persisted. It hadn't even been a whole three hours since her spat with the ghoul...and the thought of being around him after threatening to kick him to the curb made the notion of biting off her tongue much more appealing.
He was in the workspace she had granted him. The door was closed. She didn't hear it open a crack as she answered to her guest. It was Gob.
"H-hey smoothskin," he rasped. His frown deepened at the sight of her woe. "Are you okay?"
She gruffly wiped at her eyes. "Just peachy. Thanks."
"I hope this ain't a bad time, but, uh, I was wondering if we could talk about earlier..." He looked over her head. "About...about that, uh..."
She glanced back to the lingering shadow at the top of the stairs. A shake of her head, her arms crossed over her chest. "Um, yeah, yeah, of course." She widened the frame to allow him to meekly dip past. "So...you thought about it."
Gob wrung his hands together and looked up at Charon with obvious apprehension. "Do you, want to, uh, come work at the bar?" He licked his lips, his raspy voice almost belting out a few squeaks. "You'll-you'll get paid, and you can have a room..."
Evelyn hugged herself just a little bit tighter, finally addressing the specter glaring down at them. "Well?"
Charon didn't say a word, and she expected he wouldn't. He had said it was her decision...
"Okay." She motioned to the big ghoul, her throat constricting as she pointed up the stairs. She felt the floor swirl under her feet; an imaginary tide rising up her floorboards. "Your bag...please."
He gave a curt nod before dipping inside his workshop. When he presented her with it, she reached inside and handed over his life-binding indenture. It was perhaps for the best, for the both of them.
"He'll tell you everything about it," she said thickly.
"Um...okay." Gob squinted at the lettering, and then flinched when Charon rounded over him. "H-h-hey, Charon...uh..."
She felt immensely awkward standing next to the man she had just coldly evicted from her life. "You're really not going to shoot me?" she asked.
Charon snorted, taking the strap to his bag and shouldering it. "No." He then turned to his new employer. "I am ready."
Gob bobbed his head, and then awkwardly left. "Don't be a stranger to the bar, smoothskin."
Evelyn didn't say a word as they made their way up the hill. The big guy didn't even bother looking back. Well...whatever. What was done was done. She had that asshole idiot out of her life (somewhat) and she could go about living hers (which was even more questionable).
She didn't realize she had just been standing in her open doorway, glancing up the way they had gone, before a strong breeze of hot sand cleansed her nose. With a growl, she slammed her door shut (locked it) and finally, finally, FINALLY, ran a hot bath and soaked in the delicious waters (with some added scoops of Clementine Chamomile) that she so desperately deserved. The tub became a disgusting hue of brown after mere minutes of vigorous scrubbing and shaving, so she unplugged the drain and waited in a ratty towel on the couch to take another.
A knocking came at her door, loudly- enough to shake the dust right off the frame.
No way. She glanced down at her attire. "Um, just hold on a minute-!"
The knob turned, snapped, and her door was once again opened with brute force. Thankfully, all the hinges remained in place, but her jaw dropped as the behemoth prick casually walked inside.
She almost lost her towel from the shell shock. "Charon?! What the fuck?! What are you doing in here?!"
He gave her a look, closed the door, and proceeded to walk upstairs to the workshop. The sound of scraping and metal clinking met her ears as she chased after him. That giant fucker was in her house, tinkering on a fucking gun.
"Are you not going to tell me what the hell it is that you think you're doing?" she snapped.
His eyes flit over, annoyed, as he reached for the doorknob, and then he closed her own door in her face. The sounds of work continued, and she felt the tremendous urge to scream.
Wadsworth fled from her room while she angrily pulled on her vault suit and stomped up to the saloon, not even taking the time to braid her hair or lace up her boots properly. The few patrons enjoying their early evening rounds all stared as she burst inside like a vengeful spirit.
Gob saved a glass he had dropped from the sheer surprise.
"We need to talk," Evelyn demanded.
They once again met in the back room, and the ghoul instinctively flinched from her wrathful aura, unused to being victim to her vicious temper.
She threw her hands in the air, pacing around like a frantic madwoman. "What the hell is Charon doing in my house?! You took his contract! Did you send him back?!"
"What? No, smoothskin," Gob rasped uneasily. "He was sort of scaring away the customers... besides, it's usually pretty slow around this time, so I told him he could go out whenever-"
"Yeah, well, he broke my door and is acting like he still lives there!"
Gob was unable to meet the blazing fury in her eyes, tilting his head down and rubbing at his neck. "Oh." He eventually shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Her mouth opened, hung there stupidly, and then it slowly closed before a few bloatflies could swarm inside. What could he do? Order him to stay put? Become another Ahzrukhal, (or a Moriarty) have him on a short leash, cooped up in a bar, forced to live a certain life because of her insistence and meddling? She didn't think Gob even knew how to demand something from someone, anyway.
"I guess...nothing," she said, the fire fizzing itself out. "Sorry. I'll try and talk to him myself."
(Already a failed endeavor).
She trudged away on lead-filled boots, not meeting the curious looks from everyone. The door was opened to a prefilled space of her nightmare of an annoyance. Charon stepped in, forcing her to step back before he ran her over. She maneuvered around him, his head slowly swiveling on his shoulders to eye her departure. She closed it on his unflinching 180 stare.
She came to twist the knob to her house...it was locked. She blinked. He...fixed it? She tried again, putting a little weight into it. No budge. Her key was fished out from a very discreet place on her person (her bra, more precisely) and she didn't bother securing it again lest he intrude whenever he apparently felt like it.
The fridge had been wiped out of everything but the snack cakes. His clothes were in Wadsworth's laundry bin. She snooped around upstairs- which, in itself, was utmost ridiculous- this was her house! A picked-apart gun was laid out on the bench, and judging by the thick odor killing her sense of smell, she determined it had been recently cleaned. The sound of her front door closing made her jump and quickly rush out, as though she had been intruding on something she had no business of getting in to (absurd!).
Charon climbed the steps, and she met him at the top of the landing with what she hoped was a worthy scowl.
"Okay, look, I get that I told you-"
His fingers took hold of the zipper of her suit, and it made a loud zip as it flew to her crotch, a breast being whipped out into one gloved palm before his mouth came down to swallow her tongue. With one hand on her back, he ushered her into her room and closed the door.
The change in hands came with its perks.
He unshouldered her suit and shunted it off with her boots, ignoring her squeaks as he shoved her onto the bed. The entire frame wiggled as he grabbed both sides of her waist and slid her flush to him, one of his hands releasing his pent-up raging hard-on. It would be a lie if he told her he hadn't been thinking of this the moment his contract had been liberated from her service.
His glove rubbed the tip of his slimy, drooling cock, his eyes narrowed in on the sight of those glistening pink folds that he impatiently slipped a finger into. Her head slapped back into the bedding as her legs came up to squeeze him in a vice grip, the weak panting he induced from her lips nearly buckling him on top. The hot gush of liquid over his hand gave him the strange urge to fit another finger inside- it met with some resistance, and her hands flew down to grip his forearm as he squirmed it past, the silky interior clenching down as he fingered her.
She had her eyes screwed shut, her mouth open, and the noises she cried (for once) extremely pleasant to listen to. His vision narrowed in on her hand as he witnessed her perform the most peculiar thing. Her own fingers rubbed at a spot just a little bit higher than his own, and he couldn't help but stare at the glorified reaction it got.
She blinked up at him rapidly, confused and flushed as to why he suddenly stopped. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly.
He withdrew to replace her fingers. "What were you doing?"
Her mouth snapped shut, her entire face bled bright red, and she gaped at him with something along the lines of mortification.
"Um..." she stammered, "my...uh...you don't know what a clitoris is?"
He stared.
"It's like...a sweet spot?" she offered.
He nodded. "Very well."
He caught a brief hint of that annoyed fucking expression she had before he began to rub it himself- what felt like a little, smooth bead catching between the rough texture of his ghoulified fingertips. She was much more generous with the cursing of his name, her toes curling at his sides and her other hand blindly grasping out for his cock.
He swiftly indulged her with a fat push of the stiff muscle, the lips of her cunt stretched tight as he stabbed inside. A grunt escaped him while she mewled high and loud, and he forewent her 'sweet spot' in favor of fucking her fast and heavy with a fierce hold on her hips. The metal bedframe rattled obnoxiously as he pumped away, his breathing growing labored as her frantic prayers melted into intoxicating encouragements. The tight grip she had on him stuttered a growl in the pit of his chest as he felt himself grow too close much too soon, his eyes glued to her bouncing tits.
"Fuck, Charon, yes, fuck."
Her words brought him to the edge, and as a last-ditch effort to keep himself from coming, he leaned over to smash his mouth to her own, his hands wrapping underneath the soft skin of her back to hold her close.
It was here.
He gave a few, quick, shallow thrusts before spilling as deep as he could go, her pussy milking him for everything he was worth. Her tongue still licked at him as he waited, unmoving, for his load to finish. He pulled off and stumbled a few steps back to grab at a folded shirt to wipe himself with. Being considerate, he tossed it at her to clean the oozing mess between her thighs before he left for the bar.
The saloon was empty save for his employer wiping down the counter, glancing up as he came forward.
"Uh," Gob began awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the relationship between them. "You don't have to watch the bar, no one ever tries anything..." Neither moved, and Gob scratched at his head. "You, you can stay upstairs in the spare room, or-"
"I do not sleep."
"Oh. Sorry." Gob appeared genuinely troubled. "Then what do you do?"
"Whatever my employer requires."
"...right."
The door opened, and the smoothskin he had just fucked silly came inside, her face still ruddy and a barely susceptible limp in her step.
"Hey," she said a little thickly to his employer, not meeting his eyes for longer than a moment before she blushed. "I need to buy some food."
"The usual?"
She nodded. "Sure."
Gob disappeared under the counter as she unshouldered a new pack. A few cans and a couple of boxes were crammed inside.
His employer took her caps. "Where are you headed this time? Not going to wait until morning, at least?"
"Up north," she replied vaguely. She once again stole a look at him, then left. "Thanks."
"Crazy smoothskin," Gob muttered under his breath. He resumed cleaning up, and Charon followed her.
She was just outside the bar, her gaze focused on the railing that had been fixed with some rope and a sun-bleached strand of caution tape. Her head slowly broke away to blink at him.
"Did you know?" she whispered.
He did. "Yes." The stripped screws had made it obvious to someone who knew what they were looking for.
"Does that make me a bad person?"
He did not know...not anymore. He didn't reply, but instead unclipped the sheath holding his blade. It was held out for her.
She looked at it, and then carefully began to take it before his grip tightened, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Bring it back," he instructed.
She scoffed, her mood instantly turning bitter. She let go. "Then you might as well just fucking keep it."
He brought her hand up to take hold of it again. "Bring. It. Back." With a simple nod of his head, she finally slipped away from him.
"Um...okay." She looked him over, at once awkward and shy. "Thanks...big guy."
He watched her walk past the gates until the void of the wasteland swallowed her whole.