Gob&#x27;s Saloon

The vulture - now Hades - chittered quietly and tucked its head into its chest, breathing out a heavy sigh. Red sclera disappeared as its eyes closed. The injury had exhausted him and he was very ready to sleep. However, it wouldn’t be too easy with a crooked and broken wing. Once Gob could set it - if he knew how - falling asleep would be much easier.

Gob knew he needed to try and fix the wing before it began healing in the wrong position. As the animal drifted to sleep, he turned off the lamp on the bedside table, and left the saloon.

He took a trip down to visit Doc Church and get some medical supplies, as well as borrow an old medical book he had on hand about splinting broken arms. Same concept, right?

Problem was, Gob couldn't read, and had to study the pictures in order to get the idea. Church suggested administering a Stimpak first in order to calm the bird, so it wouldn't lash at him. But this was easier said than done.

Gob held the syringe in his hand, standing at the door of the bedroom where Hades was staying. "Hades?" He cautiously woke the bird.

The nameless raptor had finished preening himself and was laying static on the bed when the ghoul came in. He lifted his head slightly upon smelling the water. It wasn’t something he often needed, but at that moment, it seemed like a god-send. If the animal could understand that concept, it’d agree.

Dipping the tip of his beak in the bowl, the bird managed to shift himself enough to access it easily, starting to lap up the water eagerly. He couldn’t drink too much, however. It would make him uncomfortable if he water-logged himself. So once his throat was no longer dry, he stopped and laid his head back on the mattress.

Gob picked up one of the preened feathers and examined it. What a pretty bird.

He knelt beside the bed, and examined the bird's broken wing with a frown.

"Pretty banged up, huh?" He stroked the top of the bird's head with his thumb.

Gob knew the bird would probably never fly effectively again. It'd either die, or remain here for the remainder of it's life. Gob was pretty lonely here...

He smiled a little bit, and tilted his head at the bird. "I'm gonna name you... Hades."

The raptor remained quietly, opting to get comfortable instead. He crained his neck and pulled out the few broken feathers he could reach, unable to get himself in an upright position. Partly because of how much it would hurt, and also because the mattress’ soft surface would make it difficult.

Gob left the animal for a few minutes, and sat at the bar downstairs to collect his thoughts.

He had a very large, wild animal upstairs. He had really no medical knowledge. He also didn't know what kind of bird that was or what it would eat or how capable it was of hurting him.

He grabbed a chilled Nuka Cola from the fridge and nursed it as he contemplated where to go from here. Maybe the animal was thirsty, too? He reopened the fridge again, and got a purified water bottle, then grabbed a bowl from one of the cabinets.

He came back upstairs to find the floor covered in bent and broken feathers. He chuckled a little bit, and poured the water into the bowl before setting it on the little hutch beside the bed.

Small and strained chitters left the raptor as he was carried up the steps. It definitely wasn’t comfortable, being carried, but at least he wasn’t getting left out on the ground in front of the door.

Some of the feathers on his wings - and body - were sticking straight out, obviously having been broken when he made contact with the door. Not a nice landing at all. Couldn’t even be considered a landing—More like a crash.

Gob frowned at it, "Hi there... You're in rough shape, huh?" He used one finger to stroke under the bird's beak, down it's throat softly. He was really soft, and it made Gob smile.

"Maybe I can patch you up..."

A soft chatter left the vulture’s slightly open beak, but it was in far too much pain to bother trying to hurt anyone. Its broken wing rendered him unable to fly, and walking wasn’t exactly the easiest thing with a limb appendage. Especially a 5 foot long limp appendage.

Unable to move, he waited to see what this corpse-man would do next. Either leave him there to recover on his own - though he’d probably never be able to fly again - or bring him inside.

"Hi..." Gob whispered, softly, and stroked the soft, feathery crest on the bird's neck, down his back, very gently. "I'm gonna pick you up, alright?" His gravelly voice was even harder to understand when he was trying to be quiet.

He gently scooped an arm beneath the bird's body, and wrapped his other arm around his body, beneath the broken wing to allow it to lay naturally limp, and lifted him up. What a heavy bird. He brought him in, and decided to take him upstairs and lay him on one of the empty, rentable beds.

"Psst. Gob. Want some Easter Eggs? Just none of those in that basket... they're explosive."

"What are Easter Eggs..?"

#addicted courier

Out of nowhere, there was a loud boom as something hit the door to the saloon with a solid jolt.

There was no explanation, no one who had knocked, nothing. But if someone were to open the door, they’d find a bedraggled vulture, wings wrapped protectively against itself, laying on the ground. However, were they to look closer, they’d notice the crooked right wing. The one that had been broken not long before by some punk gang member.

The loud sound in the wee-hours of the morning had scared Gob from his sleep, a loud yelp leaving him, and he grabbed his gun. Was someone trying to break in? The lock wasn't THAT hard to pick, he knew that... So why would someone be trying to BUST down the door?

He warily made his way into the main room of the bar. No intruders yet. In fact, the bar had been silent since that first initial bang.

He tiptoed over to the door, and opened it a crack. There was no one outside. He was about to close it again when he noticed the large feathery thing lying on the ground immediately outside the door.

"... O-oh..?" What the hell?

Gob opened the door completely. He'd ever seen such a large bird. It was a bird, right? That's where feathers came from.

He knelt down, still wary that it might snap or peck at him. He carefully reached out to it, to stroke it's back.