Winthrop was everything Charon was not- polite, understanding, patient, and capable of stringing along more than just a few words. However, they were both awkward in the way that neither had a single clue how to go about getting in her pants. Winthrop was what her father would have deemed 'an overall nice man'...although it was hard to assume if he would have approved of a ghoul (much older in age) vying for a roll in the hay with his (much younger) naïve daughter. Then again, she was much more certain in her assumption that Charon would not have been his first choice...or last. Oh, dear old Dad, if only you could see what had become of your once shy, awkward bumbling sprout that had no luck with the pretty boys. The secret relief he had felt then for her lack of suitors was sure to be horrendously shit on the moment they (ever) reunited.
The door to Winthrop's office had been closed- making it intimate and crowded- and she had stood in the corner as though it was her own claimed safe haven, keeping her presence small and reserved while he hastily fumbled around, picking up discarded laundry for last-minute tidying.
"Sorry, sorry," he rasped, tossing a pair of filthy oil-stained jumpers under a bench as though it rendered them invisible. "Wasn't, uh, really expecting company." He then turned around. "I mean, I invited you, it's just-"
She awkwardly cleared her throat and kept her eyes on the assorted projects at his worktable. "It's fine." He smoothed out his crumpled sheets, inviting the invasive thought of what he would be like under them. She mentally slapped herself and pointed to the radio in the corner. "So- ahem- you said I have broadcasts? Like...of me?"
"Yeah, Three Dog talks about you a lot, ever since you came out of that Vault."
"What's a Three Dog?"
Winthrop apologized, "sorry, he's the DJ for Galaxy News, always talking about 'fighting the good fight'..." He then seemed to mutter to himself, "whatever that means."
Evelyn kept her personal business regarding her father in their mental filing cabinet labeled Childhood Trauma: Daddy Issues Special Edition, for herself to review at a later time. It felt like a gross breach of privacy at having a faceless entity privy to all of her affairs, and to then have them spat forth for the entire wasteland to hear without a single snivel of her consent.
She dove through her bag. "Um, I didn't mean to bother you with this, but…"
The cracked binoculars were handed over for him to study. All at once, his fluster washed down the drain. A hmmm, and he held it under a table lamp for a closer look. "That's odd."
"What?" she questioned, leaving her literal comfort zone to peer at them. "…can they be fixed?"
"I thought the reinforced casing would be enough…but they took some serious damage." He glanced up. "You must be quite the adventurer, smoothskin."
She blushed at his genuine tone. "Not really."
"Well, more than most of us here, anyways." He set them beside some tools before snagging a clear bottle and two chipped mugs from a shelf. "I can fix them, but it'll take the rest of the day. Need to see if Tulip has a spare liner." A cup was poured and slid over. "I know Barrows wants to speak with you. He's usually next door…and I need to fix the vents before anything else, so, uh, get nice and cozy." He took a long swig from his own helping and then pointed to the bed with its grimy sheets. "If you don't want to waste your caps upstairs, you can crash here. I don't get much sleep with all the work I do."
The response was timid and delivered with a stiff nod, "oh, um, thank you."
They both stared at it, the invitation not overtly subtle.
"Greta makes terrible food," he blathered, trying to lighten the density between them. "Not that that's a reason, or anything, just, uh-" He stared at her lips. "Can I kiss you?"
She made a face as she finished her vodka. With the alcohol now boiling her blood, she figured, why the hell not. "Sure."
He seemed to brighten and become completely petrified all at once. Their cups were set to the side, and he stood close as he seemed to rethink his request. "I'm, not very good at this- it's been a long time."
Unable to handle the awkwardness of it any longer, she tipped up on her toes and gave a small peck to his mouth. It felt...oddly like she had just done something completely out of line, as though the action itself was the worst sin to have ever been committed. She backed up a step just as his hands came to her waist.
"I really need to speak with Barrows- Dr.- for a quick sec," she said breathlessly. "Sorry. It's important."
"Oh." The utter disappointment in his voice was felt in the marrow of her soul. His hands came away. "Yeah, of course, uh, was this-"
"Fine!" she somewhat lied, already making way for the door. "I just remembered I had to ask him something, but, I'll be around?"
Winthrop turned, sullen. "I should probably take a look at those vents..."
The crowd of (no-having) nosy guests just outside the door jumped at her emergence, skittering around with gutterings of didn't see ya there smoothskin to that was awfully quick... She ducked her head from their predatory stares through the double doors of The Chop Shop, only to immediately slam herself back into them. A ghoul seated at a terminal spun around in his chair, going from pensive mutterings to mild annoyance at the intrusion.
"Yeah?" he gargled.
Evelyn didn't respond, too frozen with fear at the sight just beyond the viewing window that divided the room. A ghoul- glowing- was dragging a tongue from one end of the pane to the other, completely out to lunch in both mind and physique.
"There's-there's-" she stammered, and then she squeaked as a second one suddenly popped up into existence, its bright bright bright eyes roving wildly like a powerball in a pinball machine. Ding, ding ding ding, dingdingdingding-
"Never seen a glowing one before?" the normal(ish) ghoul mused. "They're harmless...so long as you stay on this side of the room." He wheeled over, scrutinizing her for any visible injuries. "So, you finally decided to come down here, huh? I treat all patients, if you got the caps." When her bulging eyes didn't leave the horrendous sight, he snapped his fingers a few times to successfully divert her attention. "Did you need something, or were you here to explain why I had to mop Ahzrukhal off the floor?"
She went to speak, swallow, and breathe all at once, which ended in the unfortunate consequence of inhaling her spit. Her chest wracked as she coughed up her entire being, her purpled face in her hand as she keeled over to the side.
"Hmm." Barrows watched on with all the professionalism of an ethical-abiding doctor in the modern wasteland...in which he just watched. He quipped, "You're going to lose a lung that way, which, if you do-"
Evelyn took a deep breath, wiped the drool from her chin, and then flinched as a glowing one banged its head into the glass. She wheezed, "I'm here to speak with Dr. Barrows..."
"Speaking." He folded his arms over his tattered surgeon's outfit, the dried blood unmistakable on his uniform. "You going to answer my question, smoothskin, or do I have to perform triage first?"
She sluggishly waved a hand, inching closer to the door as she noticed both nuclear ghouls suddenly at rapt attention in her presence. "I didn't ask Charon to kill him, if that's what you're implying-"
"Listen, I don't know the guy beyond the patients I've had to fix- which, believe me, was a lot- but he's been here long enough for me to question his motives. I don't care what they are, so long as they don't involve anyone else getting hurt." He leaned forward in his chair. "I'm assuming he didn't come back with you?"
She shook her head. "No...I don't think he would care to, anyway."
Barrows gave her a look that she couldn't quite decipher, and then dramatically rose from his seat. "Well, that takes care of that. I'm busy, smoothskin, so out with it. Did you need a procedure done? Maybe thinking about donating a sample...?"
"Uhh, no," she said, and without making eye contact with the glowing guests on the other side, she took in the room. It was as much a medical clinic as she ever saw one: plastic privacy screens, soiled gurneys, various (unsterilized) equipment...a foot. A laid-out ghoul that was very much deceased (and horrifically sawed open like a child's toy succumbed to an 'operation') made her back up a step into the good doctor himself.
"You can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs...or, in this case, some ribs," he joked with a heh.
She gasped, "I knew this guy!" She could (unfortunately) recognize those wrinkly sacks in a lineup anywhere. "What happened to him?"
Barrows gave her another look. "Wait, really? You knew him before he went feral?"
She turned, and all of her blessed innocence was once again put on display for the wasteland to take a heaping bite out of. "Feral?"
Charon never had his patience tested quite so frustratingly, which was ironic in the sense that Gob was by far his easiest employer to date. Gob took suggestions like second nature, allowing Charon to beautifully prep for the warpath of gunpowder and blood toward a place he honestly had no intention of ever returning to. He had taken time with his arsenal, tending to the tools that he used to cultivate the community garden full of abominations and rot. When his weaponry was set, his shoulders squared, and his eye trained on the horizon, he then had stood at the gates with his employer, and waited.
And waited.
And fucking waited.
"Is there a problem?" Charon had finally groused. The atmosphere had turned that hideous sepia-brown, tinting the wasteland a fitting shit-colored hue. There was no shade of blue to ease the strain it put on his eyes. A breath of wind had picked up, whipping sand into their faces and filling the cavern of his nostrils. He turned and placed a thumb over one side, snorting it out.
Gob flinched at his tone. "Sorry, it's just..." He took a deep breath of the dusty air, almost hesitantly, as though it would somehow inflict him harm. "It's been awhile since I've been out here." He looked up at him. "I know what you did, to Ahzrukhal, if you don't want to head back, or..."
Charon shifted his weight, mildly irritated with the sand now lodged in his ear canal. "It is of no issue. You are my employer. Lead, and I will follow."
"Right..." Gob puffed his chest, closed his eyes, and then took the first step, and then another, and another, and...Charon wasn't following, making him pause to turn.
The bigger ghoul jutted his head to the east.
Gob kicked his mental nuts and curtly nodded. "Oh...sorry."
They didn't speak unless needed, at first. Gob kept by his side like a flimsy shadow, his initial silence agreeable and a prayed-for Godsend after experiencing the gabber that was the smoothskin, but then they made their way into the sewers, and his employer's initial I can't believe I'm doing this somehow rolled into Moriarty this and Moriarty that and you know, I always thought Ahzrukhal was a terrible person- not you, though, I'm glad you shot him-
Charon expelled the loudest, annoyed sigh he ever had the compulsion of making. It shut his employer right up...until they left the sewers.
"Sorry...was I being too loud?" Gob meekly asked, nearly barreling into his side at the sound of a radroach disturbing some rubble.
He didn't answer, just trudged on towards the next underground tunnel with his shotgun settled tightly in his hands and his teeth grinding themselves into dust.
Gob gaped at the sight of the Brotherhood patrols stationed around the Washington Monument. "Whoa, things have changed since-" A grunt redirected his head. Charon motioned for him to follow around.
Willow met them at the entrance, her smoke dropping from her lips at the sight. "Well I'll be…" she started in disbelief, "Gob! I didn't expect to see you back here, much less with Charon." She turned her head to the bigger one that easily overshadowed them all. "That young smoothskin you left here with is inside. I told her you both were cleared with what had happened…though Barrows might still be uneasy with the whole thing, you running off like that." There was a twinkle in her eye. "I'm sure Ahzrukhal deserved his dues-"
Charon didn't care to listen to the rest of the pleasantries exchanged, didn't feel the multitude of eyes on his person as he strode through the concourse like he owned the place, didn't hear the hushed voices linger at his elbow while his boots stomped over by Winthrop's shop, opening the door and-
"Hey." His employer, out of breath after having sprinted to catch up. "I'm going upstairs to Carol's."
"Very well," Charon acknowledged, and then he intruded on the occupant whilst closing the door on the small crowd gathered at his back, the disappointed garbles at once silenced.
"Whoa-!" The smaller ghoul dropped something from his hands at his desk- those fucking binoculars- and jumped back. "Charon, what're you-?!"
She wasn't here…but her pack was at the foot of the bed. His bed. He turned to the flustered mechanic that was brandishing a wrench at him. Charon simply raised a single brow muscle at the warning.
"I-I don't want any trouble," Winthrop rasped with a wobble.
The door opened.
Evelyn barely had time to lift her head to question anything before Charon grabbed her by the fucking face with one hand and squished it together with his meaty fingers, a surprised choke stemming from her throat and a shout at his back. He lifted her till she was nearly face-level.
"You said north," he growled.
"Grfkhb!" she sputtered, scrabbling at his forearms for a release while spittle flew from her chapped lips.
He complied, and she nearly headbutted his crotch at the drop. A loud thwack bounced off the armor plating on his shoulder, and he slowly spun a stone-cold glare to the ghoul behind him.
"You should not have done that," was all he said as he made a move for him.
"Charon!" The smoothskin jumped on his back and was clonked in the face by his elbow as he prepped another swing at Winthrop's head. There was a pained gasp, and he failed to notice the fact he had broken her nose.
Winthrop flew into the table, scattering bits and pieces of scrap metal and tools everywhere like a busted piñata. The terrified shriek that left his mouth drew the attention of the others beyond the door, including his employer.
"Charon, Charon!" Gob panicked.
He immediately pulled away, looking down at the weight clinging to his leg. The smoothskin, dazed and bespattered in her own blood, holding on like a monkey on a tree limb. He growled and shook her off, watching with a burning fester as she crawled over to the unconscious ghoul on the floor.
"Winthrop," she faintly called, smacking his cheek with a few fingers. "Winthrop."
A warbled groan indicated he still lived.
"Pl-please go wait out in the lobby," Gob managed to shakily get out, and Charon picked something up before he gave a hard pivot and stalked past a parted crowd, the voices at his back intensifying once he was out of sight.
"Everyone move!" Dr. Barrows lept into action, studying the scene quickly. "Get him to the clinic- Nurse Graves, help the smoothskin up."
A ghoul woman that Evelyn was now being informally introduced to gently took her by the arm. "Easy does it now. It's not so bad, let's get you cleaned up-" She reached out as Evelyn slipped away. "Smoothskin!"
Evelyn burst through the doors and descended the front steps so quickly she tripped, nearly eating shit for a late lunch. She came to find the broody bodyguard half-hidden in the shadows by the Mammoth exhibit, his stiffened back to the world.
She ignored the warm, thick drip of blood rolling off her chin, the taste of copper down the backside of her throat. "What the fuck was that?!" she nearly screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. It eventually became quiet again, the eternal flames in their respective trash bins cackling to themselves. She continued, "you broke my nose!"
Nothing…he almost seemed to be pouting like a sullen teenage girl, awfully reserved with a frosty chip on his shoulder, giving a perfect thousand-yard stare across the way.
"Fine. Whatever." She began to stomp back up when he turned his head.
"You said north."
She halted mid-step. "Excuse me?"
Charon turned more, looking her dead in the eye. "You had said you were going north."
"So?! What business is it of yours?!"
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but then he turned to silently seethe to himself again.
Gob came out, his hands wringing together so pitifully it made her heart sink.
She gasped, "Oh no, is he-?"
"Barrows said he'll probably lose an eye…and maybe an arm."
A hand came to her open mouth. "Oh my God."
"You don't look so good yourself, smoothskin. You should get that patched up." He shakily rubbed at his head, more miserable than his previous days under Moriarty combined. He looked over at the bigger ghoul with open fear. "I guess I should talk to him."
Evelyn threw one last hateful glare over her shoulder before taking refuge back inside, dipping into Winthrop's office for her things. The looks and heated rumor mill whirling around gave her the impression she wasn't going to be much of a welcomed guest after being a close bystander to a second gruesome (near) murder. Regardless (of the public poll rating being zero), she entered The Chop Shop a second time. Murphy's deal was now the furthest fucking thing from her mind.
"Come sit over here." Nurse Graves directed her to a gurney on the opposite end of the room, away from the chaos that was Winthrop on life support. Graves turned her patient's head away from the sight and tilted her chin up. "A Stimpak should do once it's reset."
Evelyn was now staring at the comatose body that had been hidden away behind a screen. A pink-haired woman that was-
"Ow!" she griped as the nurse pinched her nose back in place without warning. She blinked past the swarm of tears.
"Sorry," Graves rasped, applying a needle to the skin. "Give it a few minutes, and you should be good. You can discuss payment with Dr. Barrows."
Evelyn had to refrain from rubbing at it as the creeping itch of a thousand ants began to tingle on her face. She stared at the only other smoothskin that was lying deathly quiet on her bed, her shallow breathing the only indicator she was even alive. She felt the wind from the door as it opened and turned her head.
Gob began coughing in his hand. "Smoothskin, can I talk to you for a second?"
She warily looked around for the big guy for a moment. No sign. "Um, sure."
"Thanks." He then shoved a hand inside a pocket and pulled out a crinkled piece of paper. He immediately advanced toward her as she jumped up and began to shake her head in disbelief. "Look, I, I know I asked you-"
"No way!" She refused to touch it, taking two steps back for every one he made. Her back came to the wall.
"He nearly killed Winthrop," he rasped desperately, pointing to the ghoul as though he were already a headstone. "Smoothskin, if I hadn't made him stop, there wouldn't be anything left of him."
She eyed the paper being held over, the sheet wavering as the ghoul shook. "But, I don't-"
"I told him I can't hold onto this, not after something like that." Gob set it gently on the bed. "I asked him if he wanted to go somewhere, anywhere-"
"Let me guess," she groveled, "you are employer until my contract changes-"
"-and he asked for you."
"Me?!"
"How's the nose?" Barrows interrupted. "Darn, still attached. If you ever grow tired of it..."
Evelyn dropped her voice to a deathly whisper, ignoring the doctor at their side. "I can't take it!"
"I don't know what to do!" Gob practically shouted for all to hear.
Barrows eyed the piece of paper out of line in his medical facility. "What is that?"
She snatched it up, unzipping her suit to stuff it in her bra. Both men eyed the generous display of bouncing cleavage that was begging to be set free.
"Nothing," she scathed. "How much for the stim?"
He dropped the topic at the sound of caps jingling. "Fifty. Supplies aren't cheap."
Fifty?!
"Yeah, I see that face, smoothskin. Consider yourself lucky I'm giving you a discount."
DISCOUNT?!
"It's okay, smoothskin, I got it," Gob reasoned, "I owe you...for that."
At once, she deflated at his sincerity, her fingers fiddling with some straps. "...is he still out there?"
He nodded. "I think he's waiting for...you know."
Ugh. She shouldered her pack and went to step up to Winthrop, but Barrows blocked her path.
"He needs to rest. Ahzrukhal was one thing, but this is unacceptable." He crossed his arms, giving her a solid I'm not angry, just disappointed dad stance. "Charon seems to like you, so I'll let you pass on the message."
She spat out a loud pfft! "What makes you think that?!"
Barrows jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You don't have a cracked skull and collapsed lung. Trust me, you got off easy. I've never met someone who's only walked away with minor injuries around him."
"Sure, fine," she dully replied.
That seemed to relieve the good doctor, for the tension melted from his shoulders. "Good. Now, if you're done with business in this city, then I suggest you clear out."
She gave one final glance to Winthrop, so still and wheezing on his cot, and then looked back to Gob. "Are you coming with us?"
He shook his head. "Quinn said he'd get me back...tell Nova I'll be a few days, and, uh, look out for her, while I'm gone?"
Evelyn ducked out of Underworld, for what she assumed was perhaps the last time, standing on the top step to stare at the unmoving statue. Maybe if she took his contract, rolled it into a little scroll and tucked it under his tongue, maybe he would walk out those doors and into the Potomac to never be heard from or seen again...but no such luck. The deathly specter inclined his head after the doors closed behind her, his expression bored.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" She stomped over, unzipping her suit a second time to retrieve his contract and wildly wave it. "I told you I didn't want this! Do you hate me that much that you want to just, I don't know, spite me or something?!"
The ghoul said nothing but shouldered his bag, waiting on her to direct him once again. She ignored his cling-wrapping presence mirroring her every move as she went straight past. He unexpectedly halted her by the shoulder to spin her around, giving her a critical eye as he observed her already bruising face.
She threw him off, snarling, "yeah, that was no thanks to you."
Charon fully withdrew. "I did not intend-"
"I really don't care," she snapped. "Maybe next time use your words instead of your fists- you're lucky you didn't kill Winthrop."
He remained silent as she fumed into the bathroom and angrily scrubbed at the dried, darkened warpaint until she heard a faint mutter. She wiped away the mess and whipped her soddened hair over her shoulder. "What? I didn't hear you."
"You did not say you were returning to Underworld," he rasped flatly, holding the shock of her eyes with the unrelenting steel of his own.
The lightbulb finally clicked.
"Hold on..." She licked at her damp lips. He watched. Attentively. "Were…were you jealous? Did you think I left to see him? Winthrop?" He suddenly became wary for a moment, cracked his knuckles, and then cast his eyes down, uncomfortable with his proximity to her. "Jesus Charon…no. I don't think of him like that." She then mumbled under her breath, "At least, not anymore."
He bobbed his head in a nod, self-conscious as he eyed her head to toe, then admitted bluntly, "I like having sex with you."
The absolute wild drumming of her heartbeat that tattooed her ribcage was somewhat pathetic. He might as well have told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met; it was a fucking weird, very Charon-istic compliment if she had ever heard him give one.
She stammered, suddenly shy, "I-I like having sex with you, too…"
Neither made a move, and when the stifled discomfort was too much to swallow, she bashfully went to exit the Museum of History, feeling his aura suddenly very up close. The peek behind spoke volumes of just how intimate he was to her, his hands twitching at his sides and his breathing like large bellows onto a fire. They once again left the wandering sentry behind in the gossiping dust as they made their way for home.