Middle of Nowhere - A Fallout Survival RP [RP Underway!]

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] Falls Creek Hotel

The afternoon seemed hazy to recollect despite the freshness of the events. In between the drugs pumped into her system to combat the pain while Doctor Alcana took care of her injuries, a celebratory pull from a vodka bottle at the bar and a long nap crashed out in Stella's shack, the lines had begun to blur together. When she woke up and it was dark out, Valentine didn't feel energized but she didn't want to fade back into sleep. She ignored the lump that rose in her throat when the names and faces of comrade lost that morning flashed through her mind, and got quickly out of her makeshift bed to rinse her face and hands. She dressed in relatively clean clothing from her pack and headed out.

She left her gear in the shack, and took along only the basics: a flashlight, a handgun, and a switchblade hidden in her boot. Valentine left the bandages bound to certain portions of her body be, but she could tell from the stuffness beneath the bindings that bit of of dried blood had seeped beneath the stitches to dry and harden. She'd see Alcana about getting those replaced tomorrow. In the meantime, she did her best to ignore the slightly itchy sensation of the stitches so she wouldn't do herself any harm.

Although she'd intended to go to the bar, Valentine stopped short a few paces outside of Stella's door. The so-called Falls Creek hotel had a candle burning in the window. She recalled Rickie inquiring about 'Mister Byerley' with the doctor and being told that the strange man had a room at Missus Greene's. Although Valentine would prefer to avoid the old woman, who gave her the creeps, she did want to check in with Byerley. Us out of towners gotta' stick together, she remarked as she turned her feet in that direction.

Missus Greene was awake, consuming some sort of strong-smelling tea if her breath was any indicator. The hotel owner answered the door with a glare Valentine's smile faltered at. "I'm looking for Byerley. Is he in?"

The crone shrugged and motioned sharply for Valentine to come inside. "Th' room down the hall to the left and up," Greene rasped. Feeling like she was trespassing despite being ushered in, the mercenary hurried forward and into the hall, out of the missus' sight. In the dimness, she plucked her flashlight from her belt and used its light to find the door.

Valentine rapped her knuckles across the old wooden frame, not sure if the door itself could withstand any sort of knocking. "Miiiister Byerley? It's Valentine, from earlier."

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ] botherbotherbother

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

ℚ Bץєяℓy

“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”

Byerley paused for a moment, unsure if he was hearing things. The other tenants of the house were quite noisy from time to time. He sat in silence for a moment, putting the tuxedo jacket aside and listened. Another series of knocks—he pinpointed the sound’s origin to be that of ‘his’ rented door—the sound prompted him to put his gloves back on after hastily checking the bandages on his forearms to ensure the exposed bits of metal were concealed. This ensured, he answered the door tentatively, finding it was the pinkhaired woman from the barricade. She appeared to be alone for one reason or another, not a single soul in sight in the dim oil lantern-lit hall. Valentine appeared to be carrying a flashlight, its beam casting strange shadows cross the floor of the small room.
His light eyes returned to her, some degree of confusion on his face.“Yes?”

[thepoisonedmuffin]

ooooooooLilianaScarletCarson

xxxxxx

Presencexxx●xxx Running doesn't effect aim xxx●xxx Stealthy

| Health | Unharmed | Energy | Rested | Chems | None
| Location| Near the Power Plant]| Company | Bar Patrons

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The walk back to town from the power station, in Liliana's words: Blew. She didn't want to carry the raider back to town, she would have preferred to leave him in his agony to rot, or just put a bullet through his skull. But the people at town would have preferred him alive to interrogate. Which she would have had quite a lot of fun doing it if she were the one elected to carry it out. Though to her dismay she hadn't been selected. So instead after the excitement for the day had worn off, and she had a proper chance to return to her rented room to store her things back she changed her clothes into something that wasn't covered in someone else's blood. After her new attire was on she went to the bathroom to wash her face and hands. With her pistol in the holster she went back to the bar to finally enjoy her meal she had paid for earlier. She had to of course store her firearm but didn't refuse the customs of a place she was stranded in. It was cold by the time she had gotten it, but the cook put it back over whatever he was using to cook, probably some makeshift stove that needs constant repairs, to warm it back up for her.

Instead of taking a stool at the bar, she instead went to a booth and sat down hopefully to get some time alone. The noodles were soggy and thick. They absorbed a lot of the broth that they were made it and made eating them feel like she were swallowing tiny snakes. Though after she had her fill, she let the barkeep take the bowl. He offered her a Nuka on the house, she accepted it but also asked for a bottle of rum as well as a glass to mix them in. Pouring a shot worth into the glass Liliana filled the rest of the glass with Nuka and used her index finger to mix the drink.

She sat there, drinking and smoking cigarettes in a drunken haze. The room was light by candles and whatever else form of light the place had stored. In the center of her table she had a candle, it's wax started to spill over the sides of the bobèche. When she had run out of cigarettes about two to three hours into her binge she had to wander back to her room to grab another pack. Though she had to open up the carton she had been saving. Taking two packs out of it, she stumbled back to the bar and found her seat, her alcohol still waiting for her. Pounding the rest of the alcohol in her glass, she tapped the glass cup onto the table, her arms feeling heavy and her body didn't want to move from the bench. She wanted to curl up and fall asleep. Crossing her arms on the table, she rested her head on her forearms, closing her eyes and listening to the chatter, if any. She couldn't make out what they were saying but the sound dulled the ringing in her ears.

|Wearing| Wasteland Wanderer Outfit, Eyepatch, Gloves, Scarf, Belt with pouches
|Packing| 9MM Pistol (stored), Switchblade [2]
|Wielding| Nothing
|Carrying| Pack of Cigarettes [1], Cigarette Lighter
|OOC| Sorry this was a VERY boring post. But it's still a post.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Babalu X]

Max Burrows
Danger Sense xxx●xxx Hyperesthesia xxx●xxx Die Hard

[ Location ] The Fission Hole xxx●xxx [ Company ] Bar Patrons

[ Wearing ] Un-buttoned up shirt over a white tank top, jeans. xxx●xxx [ Carrying ] .44 Desert Eagle, Cigarette Pack, Lighter

Not bad for a day's work. Max locked up his shack and proceeded to make his way to the bar as he took another drag of his cigarette. Like clockwork. The lights and games of New Vegas were far from him. The bar...hell...a bar was able to be a close old friend he was able to keep. Well...the actual "friends" were what the bar provided.

He made his way into the Fission Hole, passing by a drunken woman who seems to be falling asleep on the table, but he wasn't too sure. "Don't worry. I'll get there as well...soon enough." He thought to himself as he took a seat at the bar counter.

One year. Didn't seem that long. But it has been. A year it's been since he came across Falls Creek. Since the "kind" folk took him in. A man in combat armor, stumbling in as if he just came out of one hell of a scuffle. They didn't know him. They didn't have to trust him, and he wasn't going to really give them a reason why they should. He wouldn't have blamed them if they turned him away or left him to die. But they didn't...and here he is.

He lit up another cigarette and rested his elbows on the counter, resting his head on the knuckles of one hand, beginning to drown in thought as he waited for the bartender.

[Redneck Messiah]

Silas


Never Overburdened xxx●xxx Anything is a Weaponxxx●xxx Presence


[ Wellbeing ] concerned xxx [ Company ] Princess xxx [ Whereabouts ] Fission Hole

Weapons. Weapons everywhere. They were laid out on his bed, on the table, on the other table, on the couch, on the TV stand, on his dresser, on the counter top, and even a gun sitting on his toilet. They were pieced out, every last one of them. He was going around the house, weapon by weapon, with a small brush, a soft cloth, and a bottle of red oil. Carefully, very carefully, he did his best to clean his guns. There were pistols, rifles, shotguns, even a few launchers. The man had a collection of weapons that would make a small army jealous. He had two other bags full of weapons. One, stashed by the doorway, had a few laser guns and one plasma rifle in it. The other, setting in front of the couch, was full of various melee weapons.

His guns, he could handle. There wasn't a piece of equipment in his house, or much of anywhere for that mater, that he could turn into a force of death. He had a knack for killing. It was just something he was really good at. He preferred his powder guns over the electrical crap. Far too much of, what he considered, an old fashioned kinda guy. That's why they were stashed away in a separate bag. Not only that, but he couldn't do much on them in the way of work. Too many wires, batteries, and other confusing s**t. He'd let someone else see if they were in capable working order.

Princess was laying out and not doing much of anything. Even when Silas would talk to her. "What'da'ya think? The kid's got guts, I'll give em that. It ain't gonna be easy. But, do'n the right thing ain't ever easy, is it ..." Princess was the only one there who would hear the distance in his voice as he trailed off on those last few words. His mind was reliving some of his youthful decisions. One thing that can be said for age is that it truly does usher in a little wisdom. Call it experience, or whatever you want, it all was the same. Right or wrong, whatever didn't kill you made you stronger. Even in his old age he was still dancing with life and learning from the decisions he made.

The process took most of the night. He couldn't sleep after the little confrontation with the five raiders the day before. So instead, he cleaned his guns. He was just now finishing his last piece. It belonged to his .45 auto. A gun that had been with him through some of the worst, and best days of his military career. As he set his brush down, he took the pieces and snapped them together with clicks and pops. Finally, completely together, he slid the slide back and inspected the chamber.

When he was satisfied all of his guns were in the best working condition that he could get them, he moved onto the next part of his 'being prepared' list. In the top drawer of his dresser was a smorgasbord of ammo. He had bullets for anything and everything and some of the guns had various types of ammo for themselves. But he stuck to the basics. Bullet by bullet, he loaded each clip he had. This didn't take that long. he was done in about two hours. He had extra clips for the guns he carried and even kept a few spares for the guns he had collected over the years.

When everything was done, he donned his gear. He called it his 'a** kck'n' gear. He carried enough munitions on him to supply a small militia. But that wasn't all! He put all of the extra guns into a third bag. Then he grabbed the bag with the laser weapons and slung it over his shoulder. He also took the bag with the melee weapons in it and carried that as well. He was loaded with enough weaponry to supply an army. But hey, that was the plan.

"Let's go!" It was all he said to get the bovine sized dog to follow him out of his door. By now the first signs of the suns rays were starting to rise. Hopefully he would get to Shawn's before it was too crowded. He didn't really want everyone in the town to know he was carrying that much in the way of weapons. God forbid they might riot just to get his goods.

When he got there, there were only two other people who had beaten him. One eyed Chickiboo who had the cold shoulder, and Max. He didn't mind either of them. Max had been around for a bit. He had the same look in his eyes that Silas did. Cold, hard, learned. The man was a soldier in his past. Silas was willing to bet his life on it. As for the girl, she was rather new. And even if she had a perpetual chip on her shoulder, she was kinda cute.

Of course, in his wake, was Princess. It was impossible to hide the sound of the earth trembling beneath your feet as she ran from one side of the bar to the other and out the back door. Meanwhile, Silas came in, didn't say a word, and headed straight for the kitchen. As soon as he entered the doors, he made a left and set the three bags against the wall in the back. They'd be safe there.

Finally ready to relax, he found himself pulling a bottle of tequila off the back shelf and finding a seat at an empty table. He pulled the top off the bottle and gave Max a nod before taking a swig of his poison of choice. Now, all he had to do was wait. Shawn would make a decision and he would have an answer. Either way this turned out, if the boy decided to fight, Silas had already made up his mind to see this through.

[ Wearing ] Lightweight Leather Armor, Trenchcoat & Headwrap
[ Packing ] Broad Machete [1], Combat Knife [1]
[ Accompanied ] Princess

[ OOC ] Whistle while you work!

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: Fission HolexxxCompany: Bar goersxxxWellbeing: Itchyxxx

OOC: Sorry for the long wait.xxx

Events following the fiasco were now a sketchy memory to Stella. All this could be blamed on too much Vodka being consumed over the course of the afternoon. In fact, apart from dragging the screaming crazy to the new 'jail' The helping an unsteady Valentine back to her shack - post therapeutic drug cocktail. Stella didn't really remember much else. Despite that lack of memory, any other symptoms from the drinking were absent. So she decided it was time to go pay the Fission Hole a visit. Prior to leaving, Stella wondered about waking Valentine, sprawled out on her couch. But decided the poor pink haired woman probably needed her sleep. She left, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The Fission Hole was how Stella expected it to be, post town emergency. Defenders cooling off, and others wanting to know the details. She didn't see Shawn right away, but took one look at the occupied bar stools and hopped up onto the bar itself. As always, she came ready for action, never knowing when a citizen might need her assistance. Removing the hunting rifle, she dumped it behind the bar, knowing that there it would be safe, and within easy reach. "Hey old man, you missed all the fun earlier," she smirked at him. "Was like ******** crazy town," she informed him. Not knowing of course that he'd had his own run in with the raiders. "Say, either of you seen our illustrious bartender?" She asked next. At this point the red-haired woman had lifted her injured leg up onto the bar, bending it at the knee. She was picking at the bandage that Alenco had put there. God it was itching.

Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded](stored), Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] Falls Creek Hotel

She angled her flashlight to the scratched floorboards so she wouldn't blind him. His room had been dark... Valentine had a sense of guilt creep up. "I hope I didn't wake you, th' manager said it was okay, but I promise this'll only take a moment," she started by apologizing in the event she'd roused Byerley from his bed. "I've been through Falls Creek before, and I don't remember you, but I wanted to thank you in person for helping out the Dust Runners today. Rickie wanted me to send along her thanks, too."

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and kept on. "Tomorrow, I was gonna go out and take a look at the minefield my group got caught in, and try to find some of the mines and, well, disable what's left. If you want to come, and keep watch for me... well, I'd owe you another one. I'll be at the barricade again to head out around dawn." She left off there. There was no reason, no point, to explain to this Byerley that she wanted to check the minefield for the remnants of any of her lost companions. For some it might be too soon to revisit a site of such trauma and loss, but Valentine wanted to confirm it.

And she wanted those mines. She couldn't be the only person in Falls Creek with a deft hand for explosives--surely, with the Croaking Canary, they occasionally needed powder charges or dynamite.

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ]

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] Jus' dandyxxx[ Company ] Anyone at the Barxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

The night drew on and Shawn smoked his way through the remainder of his pack. He planned to close the bar later than normal after serving diligently, delivering meals and fresh drinks to occupants like Max at the bar and Liliana in one of the booths. He sent Angus down to the power station to check on Dean and bring along food.

For a couple hours, Shawn disappeared upstairs to have a nap, leaving the bar in the hands of Angus and the waitress, Laurie. Most of his time spent lying down on the old mattress went into thought--he fretted that he'd drawn the lyncher's knot around Falls Creek's throat with his response to the raiders, but Silas hadn't seemed negative about it... he needed to talk to other people, however, and let the word spread that the raiders were closing in.

When he came back downstairs, he peeked in on Liliana in one of the booths. Was she asleep, or just resting, or passed-out drunk? He opted to leave her be. He checked in with Angus, too, who sat with his back against the kitchen cabinets dozing. Shawn noticed the three sacks against the wall and went to examine them--he found them stuffed with weapons. Surprised and a little unsure, he closed each one up again and dragged them awkwardly behind a stack of crates so they were a little less obvious. Then he strode back to the taproom to take his place at the bar. Once his apron was on, Shawn poured himself a vodka to nurse. Since Stella was near at hand, he poured a second one and passed it to her. His green eyes landed on Silas a moment, but he wanted to talk to the former A.Pex mercenary first.

"Don't mess with that or you won't heal quickly," he admonished the redhead. "Not too bad of a wound? I hear one of your old friends came back to town, too. The merchants came in a few hours ago after Alcana finished with them, rented the last of my rooms and, as far as I can tell, crashed out. I didn't get the full story." Angus had brought out a tray of clean glasses at some point, and Shawn began to replace them on the shelf behind the bar, polishing those with any smears.

[ Wearing ] Bartending Outfit
[ Packing ] .45 Auto [1]
[ Carrying ] [In trouser & apron pockets] Cigarette Pack [1], Rad-X [2], Stimpack [2], 2043B Radio, Cigarette Lighter, Henry's Pocketwatch

[ OOC ]

[Babalu X]

Max Burrows
Danger Sense xxx●xxx Hyperesthesia xxx●xxx Die Hard

[ Location ] Fission Hole xxx●xxx [ Company ] Bar Patrons

[ Wearing ] Un-buttoned up shirt over a white tank top, jeans. xxx●xxx [ Carrying ] .44 Desert Eagle, Cigarette Pack, Lighter

Max downed his three shot and continued to finish his cigarette when Stella came in and sat at the bar as she put her hunting rifle away. He asked Shawn for another shot, then slightly turned his head to look at Stella as she informed him of the "fun" he missed. Seeing as he didn't notice any other "old man", and Silas wasn't around here, he assumed she spoke to him. He heard of the commotion when he came back from his hunt. "Missed the fun, huh? Guess I wasn't invited." He said simply, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette. "Maybe next time..."

Next time... That would be nice. Sure'd be a breather from the usual mole rats, rad scorpions and mutated mutts and all that other s--t out there. Now that he thought about Raiders. he wondered what the hell was the difference anyway.

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

ℚ Bץєяℓy

“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t disturb me.” Byerley blinked, confused momentarily, as he followed Valentine’s glance into the dimly lit room. “I was not in the process of heading to bed, I was merely…” What did people do when they didn’t sleep? He finished his sentence immediately when the answer came to him. “…Relaxing and trying to mend some old clothes.” He gave her a small, reassuring smile as he held the door open wide, there really wasn’t anything to hide even if it was silly to keep a tuxedo on hand. “I’ve been here for a few days now; the raiders more or less chased my employer—a junk vendor— and I into town in the very same fashion.”
Given the clutter of the room, it was safe to assume most of the vendor’s inventory was being kept in that small room. Here the smile faltered as Byerley thought of Shapiro.
“It was nothing, really…I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nodded once as she extended the offer for him to tag along. That mine field definitely needed to be taken care of, and they could perhaps put the mines to better use in their favor, planting them in areas that the raiders may use to sneak into the town again. The power station certainly needed better defenses.
“Sure, I’ll accompany you. What time can I find you by the barricade?”

[GeeGeeGoJayBee]

Daniel Boudreaux

Smooth Talker xxx●xxx Allurexxx●xxx Fortune's Choosen

[ Wellbeing ] Alright xxx [ Company ] Bar goers xxx [ Whereabouts ] Fission Hole


After that nasty raider business was done Daniel went back to his usual business. He was slightly sad to hand the Fission Hole back over to Shawn. He had a few drinks before he thought of going to check on the well being of his little home. It wasn’t like he was daft enough to think that his residence should be an important target for raider attacks but one could never be too sure. Raiders liked to get their grubby littler murdering hands on all sorts of things. While he was at home he also decided to grab a heavier fire arm. He wasn’t much of a fighter and he didn’t really think he could do that much but it was nice to be prepared.

Once he was sure everything was accounted for he staggard back to the Fission Hole. It was slightly busier than when he left it. “It’s nice to see that you all are in once piece,” he mused as he put his rifle away. He moseyed over to the bar and sat down. “So, how did things go?” Daniel asked. “It must have went at least okay since we aren’t all dead right now.” Daniel wasn’t one for war stories, he liked talking about himself more than listening to boring bloody details, but this raider thing was important. He would like to hear that all the raiders magically all dropped dead, but he knew that if the gang of warriors had won he would have heard it over the radio earlier. Right now he was hoping for any good news.




[ Wearing ] Well Heeled Gambler Suit
[ Packing ] Cowboy Repeater [1], Switchblade [1]
[ Carrying ] Deck of Cards[1], Pack of Cigarettes[1]

[ OOC ]This is the most sort

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] Falls Creek Hotel

Valentine leaned forward to look to and fro into Byerley's room, her natural curiosity increased by what she took to be an invitation. It was small, but not bad as far as wasteland accommodations went. There was certainly a fair bit of clutter, and she wondered what sort of treasures were mixed into the jumble. She perked up when he mentioned mending.

"Yeah, I need to mend some soon, too," she remarked quietly. Some of her cheer deflated when his smile flickered. She'd been doing well, managing her own grief, but all of a sudden she felt tears fleck the corners of her eyes and her throat seemed too thick. She forced the sensations down, because breaking down in front of Byerley just wouldn't do no matter how nice he was, or seemed. Hopefully it was dim enough that her shift in emotion wouldn't be too noticeable. "I--yeah. Thank you." It came to mind that he might have gone through the same thing, dealt with the same scenario... had experienced the same results.

As tempting as it was to ask him what had happened and where, Valentine clamped her teeth down onto her tongue and nodded mutely instead. After a moment, when she felt composed, she said in as light a manner as she could muster, "I'm gonna head to the bar now to check in on my friend, but I'll be up bright and early when the sun is starting to rise. If I'm not at the barricade by dawn, I'll be along as soon as I can. I saw a wheelbarrow by Missus Greene's fence..." she lowered her voice, in case the crone was listening in. "If you can, try and grab it and a shovel, it'll make things a little easier."

She twisted her flashlight, which made the shadows waver and distort along the walls. "See you in the morning, then, Mister Byerley." Valentine stuck out her hand for a shake.

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ]

[Redneck Messiah]

Penny


Lockpicker xxx●xxx Hackerxxx●xxx Move Silently


[ Wellbeing ] Sleeping xxx [ Company ] None xxx [ Whereabouts ] Home >>> Fission Hole

Where was Penny? Where else would she be. Doing what teenagers do best. She was in her bed sleeping. Of course, being the lady she was, her snoring was kept to a minimum. Even though her clothes were thrown about, her guns were haphazardly laying on the floor, and she was sprawled out on the bed leaving no room for even a teddy bear.

Things looked well enough on the outside. But, on the inside, it was another story. Her dreams were filled with pictures of her parents. Her dad, whom she can barely remember, fazes in and out of a world filled with shadow. Her mother, screaming and crying as she's hauled off by raiders. Penny, chasing after her, trying to catch her, only seems to fall further and further behind. Soon she is left alone with nothing, or no one around. Only her tears as comfort as she slumps to her knees and sobs the rest of the dream away.

Waking up, she laid there for a while. The view from this vantage never changes. The ceiling was as welcoming as the rays of the sun. She didn't want to get up. What teen ever does? But she knew that she had too. If for no other reason, she really wanted to see what they were going to do with the raider they had caught. So, she slipped out of bed and took her sweet time getting ready.

An hour later she was walking out the door. Stopping in the street, she thought about the best place to get information. The bar was the obvious choice. But the people there all gave her funny looks when she walked in. She could try to get to someone's terminal. But she doubted that anyone would have all of the answers in one spot. About that time her stomach went nuclear. She might not have made up her own mind, but her huger made the choice for her.

She skipped down the roads to the Fission Hole and came through door as bouncy as Henry VIII's third wife. In a metaphorical sense, obviously. She didn't pay any attention to the people inside, but instead skipped her way to the kitchen looking for Angus. All she had to do was find him, throw on some puppy dog eyes, and she'd have an Angus burger that was almost twice the size of her head. Just thinking about it made her smile widen.

[ Wearing ] Nightgown >>> Merc Charmer Outfit (Modified)
[ Packing ] ...
[ Accompanied ] ...

[ OOC ] ....

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

ℚ Bץєяℓy

“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”

“Of course,” He said, obliging the silent offer and took her hand lightly. It took very little to crush a person’s hand and in that light little gesture he exercised the most precise fine motor control: for all the world it was a simple and firm, good handshake by human standards. It was rapidly becoming something he thought very little of and simply performed by memory now, he also nodded in response to her instructions regarding gardening tools and the like while making mental note of the shovel’s location and the wheel barrow.
Helpful, as he never really noticed the barrow despite having walked past it: it just had never been terribly important a detail at the time. Now it stood out with various details in his mind. Its one tire was fairly flat-looking, brittle, and one of the legs was bent. The handles were splintery so it would be best he handled that on account of the gloves and bandages protecting his hands. It was a faded, sickly green inspite the two-hundred plus years it had been exposed to the elements, hoever the lip was chipped and dented, suggesting a lot of rough usage. It would certainly wobble when pushed, making its use rather awkward. It might need oiling to avoid squeaking and making too much noise in the early hours.
That wheel barrow- check.

“I haven’t exactly been to the bar in town, is that technically a place the locals would expect an outsider to frequent? I’ve been traveling for years but the nuances of small communities like Falls Creek continue to confound me when it comes to customs and expectations of behavior.”
Come to think of it a lot of the citizens have been him a wide berth, almost as if they expected him to jump at them and take a chunk out of them or something equally unsociable.
He frowned at this thought and couldn’t help but to wonder if it would be better or worse to just hide in the room, pay his fees—namely to properly allow people to forget he existed—and then quietly sneak out of town when no one was looking. It seemed logical but in itself presented more problems than the raiders attacking the town posed. It wasn’t a question of morals, but it certainly would be bad form to sneak out now.
Outsiders should stick together, right?
Almost uncertainly, he asked his next question.
“Should I accompany you?”

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: Fission HolexxxCompany: Shawn & Max (Plus everyone else around)xxxWellbeing: Itchyxxx

OOC: Opps, I though Silas was within earshot.xxx

Stella paused her probing, in order to grin at the older male. "Yeah no doubt there'll be a next time," she answered, seeming optimistic about the idea. "I haven't seen action like this in a long while." Stella rocked back and looked at the ceiling, apparently thinking about the 'good ol days' while she made the additional comment. Absent mindedly she went back to picking the bandage, until Shawn interrupted her. She responded by pouting and then sticking her tongue out at him. Then, to make matters worse, Stella pulled free the hunting knife she kept on her belt. Fortunately it was still sheathed else what she did next might have gotten messy. With the makeshift scratcher she was able to reach the itchy spot right under the bandages. Not the most orthodox way but it worked. She left the knife in place, just in case the irritation returned, and turned to accept her drink from Shawn. "Cheers," she said, lifting her glass to his and then downing the lot in one go. She slid the glass back to him. Of course she'd be up for more, even if he wasn't. "You heard right. Valentine and I used to work together." While she informed her friend, she tapped the hidden tattoo on her arm. Without thinking, Stella thought this was explanation enough.

Gladly, Stella accepted another drink off Shawn before going on to spill what she knew from Valentine. "They didn't know about the situation down this way. With the raiders," she paused to chuck back the second drink. "Apparently, those cretins have been busy. They set up a minefield on the road into town. Unfortunately Val and those other guys walked right into it." With one finger, Stella toyed with the edge of her glass. She was glad that her best friend was alright, and was dreading to think what might have happened. "They lost quite a few people, and a big chunk of their livelihood. Now to top it off, they're stuck here like the rest of us. Worlds gone to s**t, again." As she finished speaking, Stella was actually looking as Max, wondering what he thought about it all. "That's all I know." she shrugged. Suddenly she threw a smile onto her face, and perked up. Then she pushed the empty glass back across to Shawn. "At least this is a decent place to be stuck at, eh Max?"

Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded](stored), Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]