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[A FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS ROLEPLAY BLOG FOR THE DYNAMIC DUO, DENNY AND CALVIN HUTCHINS.]
She blinks slowly at him, very obviously bored and only half listening. Denny likes to talk, she knows this. And normally, Max’ll put on a guise of listening, adding a ‘hmm’ or nodding when appropriate- but today? Her heart’s not really in it. The only part of his speech that grabs her is the admission that he’s bought the next hour of her time.
“Fuck me…” it’s muttered under her breath and more as a swear than a demand. A huff and she knocks his boots off the table and plops down opposite Denny, giving him a rather annoyed expectant look.
“Fine. You’ve got my attention.”
Denny falls forward roughly, almost spilling his beer. Still, it doesn’t wipe the smirk off of his face. He sits up, sliding his half-finished beer across the table to Max.
“Kick back, huh? Have a drink. No need to be in a bad mood when you’re hangin’ out with me! I mean, I know this is technically business for you, but...” He shrugs, leaning back in his seat again. “I was hopin’ we could throw a lil’ pleasure into the mix too, yanno?”
After a beat, he finally takes his hat all the way off and tosses it on to the table. He stares at her expectantly, waiting for her to take a drink.
Max crosses her arms over her chest, an incredulous look appearing on her face.
“Maybe if I didn’t know you; you usually want something from me.”
Granted the thing he usually wants from her is the Something that happens to be rightfully his, but she doesn’t have time for unimportant things like proper ownership.
“But fine, lets say you don’t have some kinda reason. If that’s the case- I’m actually really busy right now and I gotta get back to work, so…”
Denny smirks, taking another drink.
“Hey, I get it. I respect that. I’m a busy man myself, yanno. Runnin’ a caravan ain’t some kind of part-time work or nothin’- it’s a lifestyle. Day in, day out, selling, scavenging, stocking... But I still make it out t’ see you every now and again, don’t I? I’d think you could spare a couple minutes for your good pal Dennis.”
Reaching up, he tips the brim of his hat back so he can get a better look at her. A beat, and then he grins.
“In any case, I bought your next hour, so I guess ya don’t get much say in the matter.”
-She smiles to herself as Denny follows after her. Once again, food has solved her problems. At least for the time being. She knows Denny well enough to know that this particular subject isn’t going to be dropped any time soon.-
Mmm, you can pretend all you want, but you just ain’t got the poker face for it, baby. Didn’t you once tell me you enjoy my cookin’ more than most thing in life?
-Shirley rounds a corner and heads into the kitchen area where, surprise(!), the stew is already bubbling away in an enamel pot.-
If you go n’ grab your brother for me, I’ll getcha a nice big bowl. Maybe even dig out some bread.
...Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ I probably said. Or “more than life itself”. Somethin’ like that.
*Despite the lingering hurt, Denny manages a smile. Especially when they step into the kitchen, which basically smells like heaven. If there’s one thing he loves about Shirley and her bar in particular, it’s that she knows how to make something delicious out of the scraps that the wasteland gives them. And it smells good! Most places aren’t so lucky.
Denny considers being a snot, but he decides that the craving for her food is too strong to bother with keeping up the act. He nods.*
Alright, just make sure I get food first. I think I’ve earned it.
*He turns on his heel and, several minutes later, returns to the kitchen with the ghoul by his side. Calvin opens his mouth to say something, but Denny quickly interrupts him and holds his hands out to Shirley.*
-She almost feels bad for him. Shirley honestly, truly hadn’t meant to insult Denny to the point of speechlessness, and to see him tripping over his words because of it- well, she feels guilty. But still, that’s no reason for the man to be stubborn. She removes the hand from his shoulder and crosses her arms with a light little huff.-
Well humph. Fine, If you don’t want my lunch then I’ll go find Calvin and me n’ him n’ Ben’ll enjoy a nice lunch together.
-She turns to go.-
‘s a shame too. Stopped by the butcher yesterday and got some fresh meat… Was gonna make a real nice stew.
Yeah, you go do that. You n’ your two best friends and not Denny, that guy who hangs out in your bar.
*Denny purses his lips, trying to stay strong. But God... she gets such good meat and her food is so good. He’s never eaten as well as he has here. What kind of man turns down a delicious, free meal? A stubborn one, that’s who.
...But then he thinks about that stew and his stomach growls and he decides, just this once, that stubborness isn’t going to win out. Damn this woman! Denny stumbles after her.*
W-wait, wait, alright, hold up. I changed my mind, I’ll take a pity meal. But I’m gonna pretend not to enjoy it!
We ain’t nothin’, baby. Your brother earns keep around here enough for both of ya, so if anyone around here’s a partner, it’s him. You just sit around lookin’ pretty and occasionally gettin’ poor boys radiation poisoned.
-She grins at him, watching as he gestures to himself. She’s half joking, of course, but something tells her Denny won’t see it that way. So Shirley quits scritching Ben- to the gecko’s dismay, and walks around to the bar to place a hand lightly on Denny’s shoulder with a smile.-
Baby, just drop it. You n’ I both know this ain’t goin’ nowhere. How ‘bout you take a seat and I’ll whip you up some lunch instead, hmm?
*Denny stares at her for a long time, genuinely taken aback.*
I- we- th- and I-
*It’s not a charming sight, Denny tripping over his works like an idiot. Shirley should be proud of one thing, though- it’s hard to leave Denny speechless. And even though he can tell that she’s trying to make light of the whole thing, her words sting. Sure, maybe he hasn’t outright said that he has a huge crush on her and thought that their relationship was edging towards that, but... damn, shouldn’t she just know that shit?
After a moment, he closes his mouth and silently watches as she approaches him. The hand on his shoulder and her pet names reek of pity. In a fairly pathetic attempt at trying not to look hurt, Denny crosses his arms tightly over his chest and resumes pouting.*
-The gecko cocks it’s head at Denny’s yelping, looking oddly satisfied with himself. Shirley only sighs lightly, and reaches out to scritch the top of Ben’s head. The gecko lets out a pleased chirping and lies down to revel in the attention.-
Well, I’d ask who your source is, but it don’t really matter…
-With her other hand she pinches the bridge of her nose.-
Okay. If- and I mean if, you’re right. Maybe I got my reasons for not lettin’ you in. And maybe I don’t exactly feel comfortable just out n’ tellin’ you. I’m allowed to keep a secret or two, yeah? We don’t know each other that well, honey.
I’m hurt, miss Shirley. Here I thought we were turnin’ into right good friends.
*Denny shoots her that charming smile, even though he knows it doesn’t work on her. Old habits die hard, he supposes. Calvin doesn’t fall for them either, and yet, Denny always tries.
Sighing, he removes his hand from his gun and runs it through his hair.*
Now listen, I’ll let you have your secrets. We all got ‘em, yeah? That’s fine. But we’re basically business partners now. My brother and I practically live here. You let Calvin deal with your funds, for God’s sake! I don’t think it’s fair that you’re doing this off on the side and not lettin’ us get involved. Especially me. I mean... look at me, Shirley.
*He ushers to himself, and then gives her a moment to consider.*
You mean to tell me that I don’t look exactly like the type of guy who’s seen his fair share of less than wholesome underground activities? Cuz either you’re lyin’ or I’m losin’ my touch.
I- no! You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, miss.
*He frowns, vaguely offended that she’s playing coy. But even more than that, he’s offended that she hasn’t invited him yet. Why wouldn’t she want him there? Shirley knows well enough how Denny spends his free time, and honestly, he’d be a show stopper. If she’s trying to mess with him, he hardly appreciates it.
Denny leans back and crosses his arms tightly over his chest.*
Business is great. But I ain’t doing business all the time, Miss Shirley. I have hobbies. And I love a good competition. So I’ll say it again: I want in. And don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about invitin’ me, cuz I won’t believe it for a second.
-She gives Denny a worn smile, like a mother would to a child she’s not really listening to. How he found out about her little… side-project, she’d love to know, but the more they talk about it, the more he’ll try to convince her to let him in.-
I haven’t, honey. That’s the God’s honest truth.
-Shirley pushes herself off the bar and walks slowly to the other end of the counter, waking the sleeping gecko on the floor in the process. Ben takes a moment to stretch and yawn below clambering onto the bar and over to his momma.-
‘s just… Look, Denny, i dunno what you heard, but you’re wrong. Ain’t got nothin’ goin’ on here except whatcha seein’ now. So just- drop it, alright? Please?
*Denny pouts. With a huff, he stands up to follow her down the bar.*
Wh- AGH FUCK.
*He jumps back, alarmed by Ben’s sudden presence. It perches itself directly next to Shirley and stares at Denny with those big, wet, soulless eyes... Denny shivers. He hates that this... thing hangs around here, that she keeps him as some sort of pet, but he can’t rightfully say anything about it. She gets upset every time he does.
Drawing a deep breath, he powers through the overwhelming sense of danger and follows Shirley and the gecko down the bar. Still, he stands a few steps back and rests his hand near the butt of his gun, just in case.*
You oughta know as well as I do that I can’t just drop things. ‘Specially not somethin’ like this. Besides, my source is good, so I ain’t gonna drop it til you admit that I’m right. And tell me the real reason you won’t let me in.
Shirley. *Denny sits down at the bar, palms pressed flat against the surface as if what he's saying is the most important thing you're going to hear today. His face is alarmingly deadpan.* We need to have a very serious discussion.
Dennis.
-She eyes him suspiciously, unsure if what he’s about to tell her is, in fact, the most important thing she’ll hear today, or something ridiculous. She’s known Denny now long enough to know that you can never really tell with him. Usually it’s something ridiculous.-
*He hesitates- perhaps for dramatic effect- and then squints. After another beat, he leans forward and lowers his voice. It’s unnecessary- the bar is currently empty aside from Shirley, himself, and (unbeknownst to him) Ben, sleeping by Shirley’s feet- but at least he’s really trying to be serious about this.*
I know about what you do here. That’s right- finally figured it out. I want in.
-She mirrors Denny, leaning in as he does. She arches an eyebrow as he finally spits it out, and stifles a giggle, taking instead a moment to seem as if she’s thoroughly considering what he’s said. After a few seconds, she gives a shrug.-
I got no idea what you mean, honey. ‘In’ to what?
-She, of course, knows exactly what he means, but decides for both their sake to feign ignorance. That’s not a place for Denny anyway.-
“in’ to sellin’ booze? ‘Cause if you wanna job, you’re bein’ awful dodgy about it. ‘Sides, I thought you n’ Calvin we’re doin’ great business.
I- no! You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, miss.
*He frowns, vaguely offended that she’s playing coy. But even more than that, he’s offended that she hasn’t invited him yet. Why wouldn’t she want him there? Shirley knows well enough how Denny spends his free time, and honestly, he’d be a show stopper. If she’s trying to mess with him, he hardly appreciates it.
Denny leans back and crosses his arms tightly over his chest.*
Business is great. But I ain’t doing business all the time, Miss Shirley. I have hobbies. And I love a good competition. So I’ll say it again: I want in. And don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about invitin’ me, cuz I won’t believe it for a second.
Shirley. *Denny sits down at the bar, palms pressed flat against the surface as if what he's saying is the most important thing you're going to hear today. His face is alarmingly deadpan.* We need to have a very serious discussion.
Dennis.
-She eyes him suspiciously, unsure if what he’s about to tell her is, in fact, the most important thing she’ll hear today, or something ridiculous. She’s known Denny now long enough to know that you can never really tell with him. Usually it’s something ridiculous.-
*He hesitates- perhaps for dramatic effect- and then squints. After another beat, he leans forward and lowers his voice. It’s unnecessary- the bar is currently empty aside from Shirley, himself, and (unbeknownst to him) Ben, sleeping by Shirley’s feet- but at least he’s really trying to be serious about this.*
I know about what you do here. That’s right- finally figured it out. I want in.
2. You meet a man who has killed someone and done time for it before. Does this factor into how you treat him? Will he ever truly escape that sin?
Denny: Hard to meet people who haven’t done one bad thing or another. I ain’t about to judge someone for what they’ve done, ‘specially if I don’t know the whole story. I’m all about giving people a fair shot at showin’ who they really are.
In any case, no use tryin’ to escape it. That shit follows you for life- and one day it’ll catch up with ya. It always does.
Calvin: I suppose it depends. I’d by lying if I said it didn’t factor into how I treat people, though. It’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes just a curious thing.
I don’t know if you can escape the things that you do, but I believe you can be forgiven. You can forgive yourself, make amends for the things you’ve done, and move on. I suppose you learn to live with your sins, instead of trying to outrun them.
4. You have a secret you swore not to reveal. But this secret is the only thing that would prove your innocence in a separate matter. Is it worth risking your own well-being for the secret? Or would you betray the trust given to you?
Denny: Between you n’ me? I’m great at keepin’ secrets. I’m also great at lying. Most of all, I’m great at problem solving. I’m sure I can work somethin’ out that benefits both parties.
Calvin: If I made a promise, I will keep it. I don’t make promises often, so I don’t take them lightly when I do- because if I swore, I must’ve had a good reason to. Besides, I don’t care so much for my well-being in a normal situation. I’m not about to betray someone else’s trust for the sake of it.
((what if the two of you switched bodies, ala Freaky Friday?))
Calvin: I suppose I would enjoy my newfound vitality. For however long it lasted.
Denny: …Yanno, this don’t sound like much of a fair trade. I’m gonna have to politely decline participatin’ in this whole, uh… situation.
Calvin: I don’t... think that’s an option.
Denny: Well shit, in that case, I’d probably stay cooped up til we could figure out how to fix it! No offense, pal, but ya ain’t exactly appealing on the eyes or nothin’. That and I don’t think I’d take too kindly to suddenly being all irradiated.
Interview my OC about questions that has no easy answer.
1. Which should be saved – a bus full of innocent lives or a loved one?
2. You meet a man who has killed someone and done time for it before. Does this factor into how you treat him? Will he ever truly escape that sin?
3. If you could jump back through time to save a loved one’s life, would you? Despite what it might to do the timeline? To everyone else? Do you believe it is their fate to die regardless?
4. You have a secret you swore not to reveal. But this secret is the only thing that would prove your innocence in a separate matter. Is it worth risking your own well-being for the secret? Or would you betray the trust given to you?
5. Is it better to hurt others before they hurt you or let yourself be walked all over and hurt by others?
6. If you tell the truth, an evil person gets to walk away free. If you lie, you may be able to send them away like they deserve. Is honesty worth more than justice?
7. You have the key to immortality in your hands. But not for free. If you want it, as a price, your worst enemy also gains immortality. Is it worth it?
8. If you could gain as much money as you want for losing a sense, would you do it?
9. Can people be held accountable for things people close or related to them did or are they innocent?
10. If a lot of people, possibly innocent people, have to die in order to make a real change, is it worth it? Can you live with their deaths even if it helps people in the present?
11. Imagine there is a beast that craves attention. If you ignore it, despite being deadly, it will leave you alone. Could you live like that? Even if it possibly attacked others? Would you try and challenge something that unknown?
12. If someone else stole something and you stole it back is that a good deed, a bad deed or one of equal worth? Are you better than the original thief?
13. Could you sacrifice yourself for the good of everyone else?
14. What of love? Say you discover your lifelong crush on another has finally been reciprocated… but they are currently dating a family member or a dear friend the crush feels responsible to honour. Do you force the break up? Date on the side? Bottle it up forever?
15. Is lying to others to gain their approval more important than being genuine and hated?
16. Have you ever contemplated killing someone? Who and why? Would you ever act on it? Are you frightened you might?
17. Have you ever gotten sheer joy out of hurting someone else, either physically or mentally? To whom and why? Did it scare you?
18. Have you ever done something morally wrong? If it’s morally wrong do you regret it?
19. What is more likely a thought to you – that this world is wrong or that you are wrong?
20. Are there people in this world who, no matter how much time and penitence is given, should never be forgiven?
21. Are there people in this world you simply think the world would be better without? If you could erase them out of existence without physically murdering them, would you?
22. How do you feel about having an intimate relationship with someone you don’t love? What if they love you in return? Does that make you feel guilty?
23. Could you ever become your own hero? Is that a role you can fulfil or is it something you look to others for?
24. How do you feel about tears? Are they cowardly and weak? Do you cry? Would you consider that shameful?
25. What is more important to you? An idea of yours being used and appreciated or the credit for that idea beings yours and yours alone?
26. Is your personal happiness more important than anything else in the world? Than fame? Than the happiness of others?
27. How far would you go to achieve a dream or ideal? Does it matter who suffers? Does it matter if you suffer?
28. How long would you wait for the one you love? A year? Fifteen years? Forever? Could you honestly be loyal to an unfulfilled love?
29. Is genius equal to hard work? Does a genius deserve praise for doing well without effort? Are they above us?
30. Do we live in a world of parallels? Can there be no hope without grief? No happiness without suffering? Or is a utopia possible?
31. What is more important to you? Being respected and praised by your elders or being looked up to and championed by those younger or of the same age?
32. If you could choose to remove certain feelings such as anger, confusion, sadness, would you remove them?
33. If you could wipe certain memories from your head, would you? Why would you? What memories?
34. What path appeals to you more? An exciting dream that leaves you possibly penniless and alone or a drab existence where you have steady success.
35. Is every person in this world wholly unique or can they be categorized? Can they be grouped and mentally dissected? Are you just another sheep in another flock or are you the sole unique soul?
Slowly, a dim light grows brighter in the darkness. A low, electrical hum fills the silence. Dirt and blood and a vague fruitiness fills his nostrils- it’s not altogether unpleasant, and not necessarily unfamiliar, but his mind is much too foggy to remember where he knows it from. God, it’s so hot; he shivers, a unexpected response that makes his muscles ache. That ain’t the heat of the desert, he decides.
Even blinking is taxing, at first. The physical and mental effort he has to expend just to lift his eyelids is only slightly less than that of making himself breath, or swallowing. Saliva like knives in his throat, lungs inflating slowly, as if something heavy were on his chest. It’s his hand. He certainly doesn’t remember it being that heavy... Dennis blinks again- once, twice, three times and his blurry surroundings start to take shape. An overheard lamp, dim and humming quietly as it strains to retain life. Denny smiles, just barely- I feel ya, pal. He establishes that he’s lying on a mattress, in a room that he’s relatively familiar with. Not his own, because he doesn’t have a bedroom, but the one he spends time in.
Without warning, something cool touches his lips. It surprises him, but doesn’t necessarily scare him- he hardly reacts fast enough to look at it, let alone jerk away. The mouth of a canteen is pressed against his own, and as it tilts forward, a steam of cool water flows steadily into his mouth.
“Try to swallow,” a voice says, quiet and feminine, instantly recognizable to him as the equivalent to a chorus of angels. Denny abides, albeit with difficulty; the water is satisfying in a thousand ways, and just as painful in a thousand more. Once, twice, three times- the number of the day- and the canteen leaves his lips. He sighs, enjoying the brief cooling inside of him, before the heat crawls back up his throat. “I was startin’ to worry you weren’t gonna come around.”
Denny turns his head; Shirley leans over him, the light from above circling her face like a halo. Her blonde curls are a mess, strewn out of the way, and her cheeks are pink- in his hazy vision, he could swear she’s glowing. Maybe she really is an angel; maybe she always has been, or maybe angels look like whoever you want them to look like. “I’m tough,” he manages, his voice raspy. “Lord. I sound like Calvin.”
“Worse, actually,” Shirley giggles, sitting back a little. She’s still glowing, even without the light behind her. Definitely an angel. Denny chuckles, and then makes a move to sit up. Leaning forward and moving his arms is enough to illicit a groan, and he feels sweat drip down his already sticky back. Shirley’s face goes somber quickly, and she presses a hand softly against his chest, pushing him back down. “I don’t think so, mister.”
“But-”
“No. You need to relax. I dunno how long you’d been out when I found you, and you’re runnin’ a hell of a fever. Stay put,” she demands, but he remains half sitting up. The fever explains the heat, and why he can’t seem to stop shaking. He doesn’t recall how he got here, or where exactly he was when Shirley found him, but what came before that is still circling his brain. The last few days come back to him in snippets, like clips of someone else’s life instead of his own experiences. The strip, caps, alcohol. The desert. People with blurry faces and quick fists. Crying. A gun that, upon looking down, he realizes he no longer has holstered against his hip. Probably lost to the Mojave, like so many other things. Denny draws a breath and glaces down at his hands; knuckles and fingers filthy with dirt and blood. In that moment, he feels years younger, and his mind is brought back to the last time his hands were strained with blood that wasn’t his own.
Shirley places her hand on top of his and brings him back. The heat is rising again, and he allows his fatigued body to fall back against the pillows. “I’m awful sorry about this,” he grumbles. Shirley just shakes her head in response, and from her side, retrieves a cloth from a shallow pan of water. Wordlessly, and gently, she starts to wipe the dried grime off of his hands. Denny wants so badly to pull them away; she shouldn’t have to look at them, shouldn’t have to touch them, shouldn’t know that these are so clearly the hands of a man that she’s never met. Vulnerability is not something Denny is familiar with anymore, but in this moment, he feels naked. Nameless. How much did Shirley know? How much could she determine, looking at him now?
“Shirley,” he says, he voice shaking slightly, “You don’t have to- I can explain-”
She turns toward him and smiles, so genuine and kind that it nearly breaks his heart. He can see it in her eyes, though, that she knows. She doesn’t look at him different, but perhaps more aware; he waits for the scolding, for the questions, for anything. But she just shakes her head again and returns to cleaning his fingers. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, hm?”
Silence falls over them. Above, the light continues to hum, and from outside, a breeze makes the walls rattle just slightly.
Shirley finishes with his hands, wrings out the rag, and scoots closer so that she can wipe dirt off of Denny’s face. She smiles as she does it, and he smiles back, because that’s what feels right. In the back of his mind, he prays that this isn’t a dream; that Shirley isn’t an angel and just a good person; that, whatever happens, he doesn’t forget this moment. After a minute, and without hesitation, she leans forward and places a soft kiss on his chapped lips. For the first time, Denny feels his heart swell and his head spin, because... this is him. And her.
And it’s the most real he’s ever felt.
-
When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth.
No grave can hold me body down
I’ll crawl home to her.
She watches with a distant sort of interest as Calvin scoots boxes around the cart, only sort of registering the locations of the items as he points them out. Juniper does perk up, just slightly, at the mention of pre-war things. She’s always one the lookout for new stories to read- even the occasional comic book to bring to her brother and Tess. She decides to start there.
“Thanks, I got it from here.”
Following his lead, June climbs up the side of the cart and begins to look around, shuffling the contents of the boxes around haphazardly.
After an extended period of silence and digging, June reemerges from the pile of stuff, her arms full of wares: books, a few comics, medical supplies, a couple snack cakes for Tess and Indie (which were surprisingly well hidden), and a few other miscellaneous items.
“This’ll do. For now.”
Crouching beside the dog, she scratches behind Maggie’s ears before beginning to stuff the wares into her pack. “You’re well supplied, for such a small outfit. We’ve taken down Crimson Caravans with less goods.”
While June digs through their Caravan, Calvin and Denny exchange a silent conversation. Denny gives the ghoul a dark look and mouths a string of obscenities. Calvin, irritated by the fact that Denny is swearing at him and fully knows that he can’t mouth back a reply, settles for flipping him off. Denny looks simply appalled by this action; the only reply he can muster is to pout and kick the dirt with his boot. Calvin rolls his eyes and looks away- the Khan is done digging through their things. Denny doesn’t forget this, though. They’ll have a hell of a conversation later about-
Are those my snack cakes?
Denny’s eyes go wide and he just stares at the small Khan, and then at his brother. Those are his snack cakes that he hid so that his asshole brother wouldn’t sell them. Desperation seeps off his very being- you can’t let her have those! I almost died for those! But Calvin doesn’t move. He see’s them and nods, allowing her to take them.
The betrayal burns Denny’s throat. It makes him even angrier when June has to go and bring up that God forsaken Crimson Caravan outfit.
“That’s because they’re shit,” Denny spits angrily. His tone even catches Calvin’s attention. “They don’t care about making sure all their caravans are supplied as long as the ones that bring in the most caps are the best stocked. They don’t give a damn as long as they’re getting the most caps they can weasel out of innocent people...”
“Dennis...” Calvin starts, but trails off. He turns his attention back to the Khan. “Well, if that’s all. We’ll just grab the freezer and be one our way.”
