Forced with Harold into walking back the way they came, Rose held a disheartened look on her face as the realization that her journey hit a wall and she will not be able to complete it until Vandal gets what he wants.
Suppose she should be thankful that Vandal didn't tear it open with interest, but as the ghoul talks to them, he sees the world in a different lens than most can say.
That or he just plain didn't care what was inside the parcel, hard to say.
Still, Rose was understandably livid that her journey was so close to finishing, only to be stopped by a bounty hunter.
Even if he promised to bring her to Memphis himself, Rose learnt during her time on the surface that he wouldn't help her back to her vault without wanting something in return.
His head hung low, Harold silently questioned himself as he walked, he never glanced up at their captor, and was timid about catching his sight.
Vandal said that he would release Harold once he captured his bounty, but he never said he would help him find a settlement, and he doubted it wouldn't be for free, either.
Sometimes he wonders if life would be different had he stayed in the vault and listened to his cohorts argue about the math equation all day.
Suppose he won't know.
"Alright, kids, we're stopping here for a spell," Vandal decided to stop the two at an area.
Ensuring they couldn't run by staking their restraints deep into the ground, Vandal sat down while he stretched.
"Ah, even as a ghoul, you're still feeling it!" He bemoans as he felt his bones pop.
He thought it would be an unexpected perk that he wouldn't have to worry about his bones creaking and whatnot, but it was more of the same, so he guesses that was better than fused bones and walking like an idiot.
Proceeding to dig through their things, Vandal brought out their drinks and quick snacks.
Bounty hunter he may be, Vandal hasn't forgotten civility.
Restricted in their movements, he allows them to drink and eat without his help, as he kept a hand on the hilt of Betty.
Unable to speak with each other, Rose and Harold silently ate, as they felt the air growing humid as the hour passes, and Vandal says that with storms, high humidity before a storm hit meant a likely chance of being a bad one, provided it hadn't collapsed or boomeranged to a different area, as is with the nature of the storms.
"You can drop the act, little lady, I know you're no settler," Vandal grins as he spots Rose meaningfully looking away as Vandal told her and Harold about the possible strong storms coming through the area in the coming hours or days.
Part of being a bounty hunter and all that.
Oh, the Pip-Boy helps, and he can tell it hasn't left Rose's side since she put it on.
Maybe she took it off once, but she kept it on herself, nonetheless.
"Okay, fine, what about it?" Rose bluntly asks.
Eying her, Vandal brings up, "Usually, you vault dwellers end up in someone or something's stomachs and that's if you don't end up being staked over an open fire."
Unable to move, Rose responds, "Maybe I'm just lucky?"
As he shrugs, Vandal muses, "Maybe you are, little lady, but with all luck, it always runs out eventually."
It always does.
Believe him.
"I'm still alive. So's he," Rose points out.
True.
"Ah, but for how long?" Vandal retorts.
Something he learnt from people coming in from the Mojave, luck always comes and goes for people, while some may never know what a four-leaf clover looks like before they're red paste.
Well, that was true for a good chunk of the Wasteland, if he was honest.
Once he felt they're rested enough, he bound them in the restraints once more, and off they went with Vandal guiding them to different routes they wouldn't normally take, but with him trying to avoid the minutemen, it was a necessity.
No hint of sarcasm, he assured them that he had everything mapped out in his mind and that they'd be back on the ferry in no time.
"What if she's not there?" Rose broaches.
Vandal responds, "Well, if your information's good, I'll find her."
Even if the bounty manages to clean up everything, he'll find something that'll lead him to her.
That said, he won't stop until he gets his bounty.
Alive, as explicitly stated by the issuer of the bounty.
"What if she won't come willingly?" Harold meekly speaks up after spending time in silence.
Pointing at Betty, Vandal answers, "I got my ways."
Rest assured; Vandal has a way of getting his bounties completed.
He almost laughed as Harold stiffly leapt into the air as there's an ominous-like loud thunder in the distance west of them.
"Trust me when I say you get used to them, especially around this time of year," Vandal smirks as Harold exhales sharply.
Though there's exceptions with every rule.
"Like what?" Rose challenges him.
Commenting Rose is "getting an attitude for being a vault dweller" Vandal informed her some of the dangers of springtime storms in the area.
Clouds turning ominously green and the breeze suddenly dying down with seconds to find shelter or else risk "disappearing into a green wall."
Hail of inhumane sizes destroying everything it lands on, including causing deaths of several people who were caught in the storm.
"One of the worst things you can see's red mornings!" Vandal wags his gloved finger.
Red mornings, take warnings.
Red nights, sailor's delight.
"Why?" Rose opted to converse with her captor.
She knew she wasn't going to convince him to let her, and Harold go or try to win him over so that he's lenient with them, might as well learn what she can from him.
Adjusting himself in his spot, Vandal tells her, "When you see a red morning, you know some shit's going to go down. Maybe it won't happen in the afternoon, but it will happen at night. And if it does, well, my mama always told me to be prepared."
Very distinct, it is unmistakable, and when eagle eyed people witness a red morning, they know to prepare for a rough night ahead, and maybe they will be lucky, but often, storms that come from red mornings aren't merciful.
"And when they happen at night, it's hell," Vandal stresses.
That's the worst thing that can happen to the two with Vandal recalling settlements disappearing seemingly overnight after rough storms come through.
Trust him.
"Versus red nights?" Rose eyes him.
Shrugging, Vandal responds, "Means smooth sailing for the sailors and a quiet night for the sleepy people huddled around a broken lamp."
So far, Vandal hasn't seen any red mornings, but granted it remains cloudy.
Technically spring, the storms will remain a mix bag, which for most people in the state, it can be hell trying to predict when one's coming.
Or when one is going to be the worst thing they ever experienced.
People try to get ahead predicting the storms, as the two would have heard over the radio, and as Vandal was forced to acknowledge, the minutemen try and help wayward travelers on the lonely roads avoid getting caught in them.
"Ah, but who the hell wants to talk about the weather all day?" Vandal sighs as he opts to push the two forward as they trudge along the lonely road.
The skies remained a distinct black, not a hint of the sun, and the humidity was still high, Rose and Harold exhaled sharply as sweat ran down the sides of their faces despite the cloud covering the sun.
One of the perks of being a ghoul, Vandal didn't have to worry about sweat getting in his eye, just the occasional sand particle stuck in his exposed nostril.
It was around evening when Vandal suddenly stopped in his tracks as he made Rose and Harold do the same.
"What's wrong?" Rose saw Vandal gripping the handle of Betty.
Hushing her, Vandal pushes her and Harold into a hiding spot as he unholsters Betty.
Pushed next to Harold under a large flat rock hanging over the ground, Rose was unable to see what was happening as she struggled to move.
Jolted, Harold struggles as he tries to adjust himself while panic surges through his body.
Narrowing his eyes, Vandal slowly moves his head as he surveys the surrounding area, and at first, he didn't see anything, but he heard subtle movement in the distance.
Staying in place, Vandal didn't move so much as a muscle, and he caught movement adjacent to him.
From the movement, it was coming in fast, but wasn't mechanical, so Vandal shot at it once, sending it spiraling as something tumbled off the top.
Sliding across the drenched ground dead, a body of a mutant horse.
Six-eyed and six legs, a sore sight, and rare to see around these parts.
Rarer, now.
Rolling on the ground was its rider and Vandal didn't hesitate to overtake him as he held Betty against his temple.
"Wanna dance, little man?" Vandal shouts.