Chet almost didn't recognize her. With the new clothes and the Eyebot floating behind her, he assumed it was another wanderer before he saw the bleach blonde hair and slightly faraway gaze. Oh god, it was Her. Didn't she cause enough problems in this town? His arm was still sore from the stitches Doc gave him.

Just what the hell was she doing with that Eyebot? Is she...talking to it? Damn things can't even respond, much less communicate. Leaning in, he could almost make out what the blonde was saying. Scratch that; it was less saying, and more like that sounds Chet sometimes got in his radio when it was on the fritz.

Oh god, she noticed. Why is she getting closer? What does she want?

At least he can get a better look at her now. The bandages Doc applied were gone, showing the dual stars in her forehead. Clothes had to have come from a raider- what else would explain the blood and viscera? Her stare was much less vacant than when they first met, although the constant shifting was making Chet think she was up to something. In her hands was a book, that she placed on the counter next to her and opened up. Some kind of catalogue or something?

"Uh, hmm, haahh.." Her hands keep fidgeting with the buttons on her Pip-Boy. The Eyebot hovers next to her.

"[8KGCtkk?]"

She's nodding like she understands it! What is up with her?

"C-c-c-cuhhh"

Fingers comb through her hair. Palms facing upward to Chet, then back to the combing motion.

"Do. Do you want a comb or somethin'?"

"Uh-huh!"

"I haven't checked if I have one, but I get all kinds of crap to sell. Gimme a minute to check the back." Chet pretends to ignore seeing her wipe the grease from her hair on her pants.

One of these days, he's gonna have to clean out the back. It looks less like an inventory space and more like a hoarder's wet dream. It takes about 10 minutes of searching before he finds a small comb. The surface is scratched to hell and missing a tooth, but it's in relatively good condition. God bless the longevity of plastic.

Chet returns to the counter to see her flipping through the book she carried in. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look so at peace. Let's hope she doesn't catch one of those bookworms he's heard about. Sounds like a very painful thing to get. Why would a book even have worms?

"A-alrighty, found one that's good to use. Considering you helped us out, I'll lower the price down to say, five caps? That sound good?"

"Oh! Uhh, hmm!" She nods and goes to dig for the caps.

"[9oolUkfds($&#?]"

"[&&]}7 kdk]"

There they go again with the radio noise. Humans aren't even capable of that level of vocal imitation, and here's this stick of a woman doing it with ease. Hopefully she'll leave after this and he can get back to his radio.

She places the caps into his hands and takes the comb. Why is she looking at it like she's an inspector? It's just a hunk of goddamn plastic. Shit, she's staring in this direction. Let's hope she's not a mind reader.

For some reason, she still holds onto the comb as she flips through the pages of the book, looking satisfied of the place she lands on. What's she placing her hand on her chin for?

Chet just watches as she places her open hand on her chin, and lowering it to show her palm.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She repeats the motion a few more times before she realizes he doesn't understand. Sighing, she picks up the book and places it down in front of him, flipping it. It's...a picture of someone doing the exact same thing she just did. Wait, what's that on the bottom? There's a caption underneath the image. Chet can make out the words on the yellowed page:

THANK YOU

"Hey, there's no need to thank me. I'm just doin' my damn job."

She doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but she takes her book and goes to head out. He barely sees the title of the book before she leaves: "Let Your Hands Do the Talking!"

Well, it wasn't as bad as the last time they met. At least there weren't any explosions this time. Chet can only hope they don't meet again soon.

Courier Six returns three days later with a bag stuffed to the brim with bloatflies to sell, enough parts to fix Chet's radio, less tangled hair, and a smile on her face. Damn it.