Ⓐ . ˚ ◝ –––––– arquette, h.
closed starter for @gahoual
pre-war cigarettes–a much more precious currency to kimmie feng than bottlecaps or old nuka cola merchandise ( although she could appreciate the refreshment of a quantum now and then ). she could give two shits about the brotherhood and their fancy armor–seemed they were more of a good ol’ boys club anyhow–but cigarettes, now that was a vice that did not get reproduced so easily. as if hand rolled tobacco were comparable to the taste of a grey tortoise filtered cigarette.
a box of borax soap in hand, bar barely opened, kim curses under her breath as she flicks a match across the worn, wooden bar counter top. “fuckin’ ants. every goddamn winter.” as the weather cooled, they seemed to come in every crack to search for any trace of a meal. the paper around the cigarette hissed as it caught flame and she let out a slow exhale as she poured a hefty serving of the toxic soap into a small cup of sugar, mixing it well enough through to blend the two together in hopes of baiting the ants.
the din of the bell that hung above the reinforced door broke her concentration and, for a moment, she almost called out ‘we’re closed’ before remembering that time had passed without her keeping much note of it; she was open for business whether she liked it or not. taking a long drag from the cigarette, she turned and slammed the borax box onto the counter with a toothy smirk, flicking the ash of her cigarette into an ashtray she’d fashioned out of a broken doll’s head. “i’d say pick your poison, but since my runner got shot we really only have the one.”
these days, hazel wasn’t very picky about where she went for a drink and a place to sit down. it was rare that she found a settlement that didn’t shoot ghouls on sight; when she was lucky enough to come across one, she didn’t tend to turn up her nose at whatever half-collapsed dive the place had to offer as a bar. beggars, after all, couldn’t be choosers.
the bar she’d ended up in tonight could hardly pass for decent, let alone preferable, but as long as it had a roof and a few full bottles, hazel wasn’t about to complain. shrugging her bag off her shoulder and letting it thud onto the ground, the ghoul hoisted herself up onto one of the empty stools. the bartender, judging by her greeting, wasn’t exactly friendly, but at least she was easy on the eyes.
“ hey, if it does the trick, it does the trick. ” hazel reached down, shoved a hand into her pocket, and withdrew a handful of caps, which she slapped down onto the counter. “ i’ll take a glass of whatever you got. ”
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
