They had come to a set of double doors that was barred from the inside. Evelyn simply raised the heel of her boot and sent them flying off their hinges. Dust billowed from the years of abandonment, and she waved a hand before her face and sneezed loudly. It was dark inside; the only light that filtered through was from the open doorway.

A gloved palm hovered above her shoulder. Charon curled and uncurled his fingers before deciding to withdraw his hand back to his side.

"Are you mad at me?" His question sounded so uncertain Evelyn barked out a snide laugh.

"Why don't you go check the other stores? Be faster, that way," she meanly dismissed him.

The heavy hand landed decisively this time, halting her from moving forward.

"I do not know what you are thinking," he rasped, his shadow engulfing her completely. "If you are angry with me, please let me know what I have done wrong so I can correct myself for future use. It is dangerous to-"

"Holy shit Charon, you robot-sounding motherfucker!" Evelyn removed his grip and spun around to face him, her long braid whipping around and smacking her chest. "You're either mad half the time- at only God knows what- or so damn monotone I forget you're human! Yes, I'm mad at you!"

Her sudden outburst caught him off guard. This was the first time she had expressed true rage at him due to his actions, and he wasn't sure how to tread. With his previous employer-

No. His previous employer was not Evelyn, by any stretch. He exhaled deeply and waited for her to continue.

Evelyn crossed her arms and tapped her right foot angrily, chewing her lip as she broke from his gaze and stared off to the side. "I didn't hire you to fight all my battles for me, you can't just...helicopter, over me, like you do. I'm getting smothered."

He blinked, slowly. "What did you think you were hiring me for? That is my sole duty to you." He came extremely close to her, his eyes seemingly aglow in the darkness.

"Not to prevent me from doing what I see fit!" she snapped. "Just like now, with those stupid raiders-"

"You are lucky you were not killed for being reckless," Charon cut her off rudely, crossing his arms to mirror her own. "The situation was handled without your intervention."

Evelyn growled, bringing her foot up and smashing it back down forcefully enough to crack the tiles. "I could boot you across the plaza if I wanted to."

It was true. In an honest fistfight between them, she would wipe the floor with him. Her freakish strength, whatever it was attributed to, was enough to warrant its own danger. He never really did have to worry about her handling her own when it came to physical altercations, but she was strong, not invincible. She still bled like everyone else, something he had already witnessed more times than he was comfortable with.

"Physical violence on your end invalidates our contract," he responded automatically. With a grunt like he had been struck, he snorted and worked his jaw angrily. Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh. "Evelyn, I am honor-bound by my contract to protect you in all threatening situations, so...I apologize if I appear overbearing...that is not my intent."

"Then what exactly is your intent?"

"To keep you safe," he responded bluntly. "If necessary, to lay my life down for yours; if the situation demands it."

"But I don't want you to!" she burst out. "You're already so hell-bent on keeping me from getting to Braxton, which you have so vocally stated. You can't just take control of my life because you think it's what keeps me safe."

"Then there is no logical reason for our partnership." The words firmly left his tongue and smacked her in the face.

Pained betrayal swept up in her features. "But...you said, before-"

Charon snarled at himself and stepped back, putting some physical distance between them. That was an idiot thing for him to say, especially since she was already furious with him.

A loud cough made them both turn to the open doorway. Cross stood there somewhat uneasily; his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets and a moniker lit cigarette wafting tendrils of smoke around him.

"Hope I'm not interruptin'," He looked back down the way he had come. "Found somethin' interestin'. I need your superwoman strength to get at it."

Evelyn wiped a hot tear that had escaped down the side of her cheek, nodding. "Yeah, yeah...I'm coming." She sidestepped him, avoiding his outstretched hand at her. "We're done, Charon."

The ghoul was left alone in the dark, his eyes aglow like small orbs after her.

Cross was now intrigued by the progression between the smoothskin and her bodyguard. Whatever the issue, she seemed unwavering in her commitment to ignoring Charon completely now; who hovered directly behind them like a real boogeyman ghoul.

"Charon." Well, that didn't last as long as he would've thought. "Go wait for us by the raider campsite."

Ouch.

The ghoul didn't respond, or even give a predicted nasty look his way; he merely pivoted on his foot and left as ordered. When they were finally left alone, she indicated for him to continue with a nod of her head.

"So, I see you got your bad habit back."

The bounty hunter took the last drag of said bad habit, tossing the burning butt to the ground when it was finished. The wind picked it up and carried it off before he could extinguish it, and they both watched it tumble away down the sidewalk.

"It's almost a guarantee, with me," he rumbled.

They continued on inside a little storefront, and he led her back through the dim hallways to an open maintenance room. There was a clutter of miscellaneous items on shelving scattered about, and a large filing cabinet against the back wall that had been previously shoved to the side.

"Ah yes, the janitor's closet; so exciting." Her tone was so dry Cross couldn't help but let out a grating laugh.

"Think ya can crack through that safe in the back wall? It's been untouched." He pointed at the rusted locked box peeking out from behind the cabinet. "I'm a shit lockpicker."

Evelyn sighed, setting her pack down to the ground and unstrapping her jacket from her person. Cross raised an eyebrow muscle.

"Last time I did this, I ended up ripping the seams of my jacket," she explained, pouting at the memory. "Was my favorite jacket, too."

Cross was fixated on her full pink lips displayed so prominently until she shed her layer to the side, and her skin-tight shirt was left on exhibition. Holy hell. He had to force himself to look away. After all, he was asking this woman to literally rip a safe out of a wall with her bare hands, and if that didn't put the fear of God in him, then he was as stupid as every woman always told him he was.

"I'll need a crowbar, or something." She held out a hand to him expectantly, and his eyes immediately snapped to her chest again. "If you have enough time to stare you have more than enough time to start looking," she said coolly.

Not my damn fault. Let's hope you don't rip your shirt, too. He grunted and went perusing around, finding what he needed. "Here." He handed her the heavy bar and leaned against the doorway as she set to work.

With a grunt, she slammed the honed edge of the rod into the crack of the safe, wiggling it back and forth for some leverage, and then leaned against the prybar for a moment. A squeak escaped her as the frame busted open dramatically with a firework of a bang, and she tumbled into some metal shelving. A spillage of pill bottles and bundles of cash crashed to the floor at her feet.

"Whoa! You okay?" Cross ambled over to her just as she was grabbing purchase from a shelf to lean on. It snapped, and she gave another yelp just as Cross reached out to break her fall. The ghoul managed to grab her by the forearm, but a bottle rolled under his foot, and he ended up faltering into her.

Both crashed to the floor; the steel brackets riding out a domino effect and cascading around them. She became pinned beneath him in a manner that was much too suggestive for his comfort, her hands covering her face and laughing hysterical. Her face was aflame in what he assumed was embarrassment, and when she finally calmed down and met his bewildered expression, she began to loudly laugh again.

"You're-you're-" She took a shaky breath. "-the worst fallback guy, ever." She giggled. "So especially bad at everything."

A sudden, overly accustomed heat flared in the pit of his abdomen. Her face was a light pink now as she grinned foolishly at him, those eyes holding him for a moment much too long, the warmth from her supple figure intoxicating. His heart uncomfortably skipped a beat. Getupgetupgetupgetup- but his body betrayed his thoughts, and he tenderly cupped the sides of her face with both hands, a rough thumb tracing the small curve of her jawline. It was the first occurrence after a very long time that he had touched skin this soft.

She didn't protest, or, God help him, smash his face in. The way her lips parted, coupled with the trembling of her body in just the right places, made him readjust himself to straddle her hips, and he was rewarded with a delicious breathy gasp from her quivering tongue. The leather of his pants grew unbearably tight, and considering the angle he was sitting, he was sure she felt it, too. One hand released the side of her face, boldly grabbing the underside of her shirt to hike it up and over her bra. That bone for an index fingertip lightly traced over a few scars he recognized as bullet wounds, and he felt an evergrowing need as she shifted with him. Well, fuck. There was no going back now, and he wasn't sure he could stop unless she made it clear she wanted him to. With her crazy predisposition, he was risking death; this was probably the most paramount way he could ask to go out.

That hand moved up to pull her cups down, and he was at once enthralled at the sight of her breasts bobbing free. The women he had been sleeping with for the past couple of centuries either had nothing left, or just the remnants of pectoral muscle he was so accustomed to seeing. Once in a great while, someone would have half of a whole, but he didn't complain; he enjoyed them all. He grabbed a handful of her and gave a light squeeze, and the sultry moan that left her lips wiped all previous cards from the table. He was so fucked, and perhaps ruined, for the rest of his days.

Her eyes were staring up at him with so much dick-sucking desperation, now, and it was all he needed. The years of accumulated sexual experience set him to work rather quickly. He didn't know the last time he had grown so damn excited, and he was stone-cold sober. As much as it hurt his pride, he wasn't entirely sure he would last very long.

Those smaller hands slowly came up to encircle his biceps as the ghoul bent down and kissed her fully on the mouth, the pleasurable whimper she breathed being sucked down his throat. Whatever lucid thoughts he once had were now reduced to a muddled mess as his tongue nastily wrapped around hers, coating her lips with a wet sheen of his saliva. The restricted pressure from his throbbing erection was beginning to grow annoyingly painful, and so he slipped a hand down to the cold buckle of his belt- more than ready to hammer her like a fucking nail- but before he could even begin to free himself, a pair of powerful hands gripped the backside of his jacket and effortlessly lifted him into the air. Evelyn gave a surprised squeak as his weight was suddenly removed, and her eyes widened in shock.

"Charon!"

Oh, shit.

Charon was extremely pissed off at this point, (not so much at Evelyn, or even the other ghoul) but just in the general sense of things.

Hey, man, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here, ya know? You got friends, Charon. Don't have to go it alone all the time.

Their partnership had been comparatively efficient up to that point; he killed things, and she kept him good company. It was straightforward and simple.

I mean, I get it. Ahzrukhal was a straight-up creep, I can't imagine what it was like to work for the guy.

No. No one really knew. No one had to play witness to the heinous acts he had committed, seen the strings and what they had pulled for that grinning puppeteer. There was so much blood dripping from his hands; it was arduous to hold onto things. In all honesty, he truly did appreciate Evelyn. Much like her predecessor, she was genuinely kind and cared about his well-being. People like them were few and far between in this Hell; he was lucky to have ended up in her service...but how could she not understand that? How could-

A thundering bang sounded on the far side of the plaza, and the ghoul dropped all sentimental thoughts and dispatched himself as swiftly as he could manage.

"Charon!"

In hindsight, the bounty hunter wasn't much of a threat...before. Now, Charon vowed to himself that the slimy bastard would never so much as look at Evelyn, ever, again. He knew very well what the perverse merc wanted from his employer, but he didn't expect he was to act so quickly on it- then again, he didn't think she may have wanted it, too. That stung him, in an unfamiliar way.

His formidable grip directed Cross into the hallway and launched him with all that his strength granted. Charon may not be as physically strong as his employer, but it was still rather impressive, especially considering the height and weight of the victim ghoul. The bounty hunter went sailing, crashing straight through the rotting drywall. Cross groaned as he slowly picked himself off the floor in a completely different room, the dusty air itching his throat into a cough.

Evelyn quickly refitted her top, tucking her exposed chest back under the garment and yanking her shirt down. The ferryman was already making his way out of the storage room, and even though his back was to her, his murdering aura was so palpable she could sink her teeth into it, bloody and hot. Cross' knee joints popped like firecrackers as he struggled upright on his feet, his hands wiping away at the debris on himself before giving a light shake.

"Charon, stop!" she shouted, her shaking voice piercing through his enraged entanglement of thoughts.

The ghoul froze on command. She stood before him protectively just as the glint of a gun sparkled through the damaged framing.

"Whoa, whoa-" She placed one hand over Charon's chest, the other raised up in a surrendering fashion. "-back off."

"Just let me shoot that mother fucker." The merc's buried anger rose forth like a vengeful spirit, the complete and utter animosity shared between the two ghouls enough to drop a man dead. "The fuck is he to you, anyway?" he snarled.

"Calm down," she started slowly, her breathing heavy and eyes wide. "Go take a walk."

"A walk?" Cross chuckled spitefully, his thumb clicking the hammer back on the revolver.

Evelyn felt Charon's entire body tense underneath her palm. "I know you don't want to shoot us."

Cross grunted. Well, she was partially right. He had no intention whatsoever of causing her harm, but...the ghoul she was shielding...he very much wanted to plant a bullet right between those burning eyes. Nonetheless, any foul play he committed realistically sentenced him a dead man. In no way could he kill her, especially after that, but offing her companion was a surefire death sentence.

"Fuck." The hammer was slid back into place, and the gun disappeared from view. "Fuck!"

He then stormed off, slamming the door open with so much force the trim cracked from its casing. A loud commotion could be heard down the hall as Cross took his anger out on anything within striking distance.

Charon revolved his squinting glare back down to his employer just as she was bringing her fist up to deck him in the jaw, hard.

"What were you thinking?" Evelyn shrieked. "Are you fucking stupid?!"

The force from her blow propelled him off his feet; her strength in that small frame always caught him off guard. He stumbled back inside the maintenance room, crashing into the fallen debris with a pained gasp, his jaw effectively cracked in half. At that moment, his brain screamed to retaliate; to protect his life at any cost, now that she had inflicted damage upon his person. It was a clear breach of their contract, and he was free to defend himself as he saw fit. The fluorescent light above him haloed as he dizzily blinked at her, her three silhouettes forming back into one. She was sobbing, one arm hanging limp at her side as the other drew across her chest in a half-hug.

His shotgun was trapped beneath his bulk, and he groaned as gravity forced the heavy weight of his head back and his eyes closed. There was no cohesion to his thoughts, and he feared he would pass out at any moment. So, this is what other men came to experience when she lashed out. They were all trivial pieces on the war table, and she had taken her croupier rake, coldly transposing him to join all the other damaged pawns.

The sensation of a burden bestriding him impulsively brought his hands up, but his movement was sluggish, and he could only focus on remaining conscious. Although, he gave himself some credit- he was lucky he wasn't dead. Wet drops splashed on his face, and despite everything, he felt a flare of annoyance. A blossoming heat radiated in his lower jaw, accompanied by an itching sensation- the calling card of a Stimpak. His fingers curled inward as the throbbing pain slowly ebbed, and after enough strength had been regained, he forced himself to sit upright. Evelyn was slid down to settle in his lap.

"That. Hurt," he rasped, gingerly working his jaw.

There were still tears on her cheeks; the top of her shirt was soaked. "I'm-I didn't...I-"

Charon hated crying Evelyn. It was whiny, it was dramatic, it was so migraine-inducing that he felt it could drive him feral. The barking thoughts of confronting her outright were now chained and locked away in the recess of his mind. He sighed noisily through the caverns of his nostrils.

"Was that something you wanted?" he asked.

"Wh-what...?" She roughly rubbed her eyes while she pathetically sniffled. "No, I don't want to hurt you."

Charon growled, "That wasn't what I meant," and he glared at her disapprovingly.

She developed a ruddy shade and shamefully covered her face with her hands. "Why does it matter to you? I-um...yes." The last part came out so quietly that he almost burst his eardrum straining to listen.

He internally groaned. From the very first day when he had begun to travel with her, she had not once requested the company of another man. Most were off-put by her vicious tendencies, and the risk of dismemberment wasn't a direct turn-on, at least, not to most sane men. (The mercenary...however). Either way, he didn't care; her personal concern in sensual affairs was hers alone, so long as she wasn't put in harm's way.

He clenched his sore jaw so tightly the pain created stars in his eyes. No; it was none of my business. I overreacted.

"Are...are you okay?" she whispered, and he rested his hands on her forearms.

"I have felt better," he snarked. At the sight of her quivering lip, he gave an exhausted sigh. "I will be fine."

She leaned her body against him, and he rested his chin atop her head while closing his eyes, allowing himself a quiet moment of respite.