#devil: threads .

[aamusedly]

@meadowlarksabove from THE DEVIL .

The Devil was a tough man to say no to, especially when he asked to go out for a drink as directly as he had. It involved showing up the night before his appointment right when Gabban was finished with work, unannounced, to forcefully let him know they were getting drinks down the street.

Easy peasy.

It wasn't a particularly high end spot Devil took him to, but not many bougie cocktail bars wouldn't look at him funny for walking in with a hood up to hide those horns.

At the front of the bar, beneath tin tackers of different beers and a wall of dusty liquor, amber eyes slid over to Gabban. "I'll get your first. What's your poison?"

[aamusedly]

@meadowlarksabove from THE DEVIL.

So the Devil walks into a dentist's office.

Of course not an ordinary dentist's office-- he was connected enough to know that from the start. And despite the now substantial crack in one of his capped molars, he was there for a slightly more enjoyable experience.

Slightly. He'd dealt with this dentist ages ago in passing, back when he was part of something bigger. Honestly, the man had creeped him out. but the Devil respected the a consistent business, at least, and Gabban had the market cornered.

Through the doors. Was this a waiting room?

Hood up to lazily hide his horns, tail curled under the bottom of his coat, the Devil announced himself with a clearing of his throat. "Piss poor magazine selection you have out there," he began. "What if I get bored while waiting for my friend's cavity fill?"

[aamusedly]

❛ you’re lucky you got away with only a scratch. ❜ (for devil)

"I'd call it more skill than luck, actually."

The scratch in question was still bleeding fairly profusely, but such was the nature of head wounds. At least he merc didn't seem concussed-- one of those ferals had just gotten a lucky swipe in that had scraped up the side of his head.

His smug grin was interrupted by a little sneer as more blood dripped into his eyes. He lifted the scrap of cloth he'd found to press into the wound again, hoping this time it would staunch the bleeding. "Also, it's pronounced 'thank you, Devil.'"

[aamusedly]

@noseblxxd is looking for THE DEVIL.

He figured it was only a matter of time before the Brotherhood of Steel came searching for him. There was too much history of violence there for them to let sleeping dogs lie: in so beheading his raider gang the Devil had made their work easier for them, but the zealots didn't seem like they'd be particularly grateful. A raider was a raider, former or not.

Popping his head up in Megaton was a risky move, but after isolating in a shack in the middle of fucking nowhere for a few weeks, the Devil was starting to lose touch with reality. That and he was out of food, out of booze, out of addictol for his withdrawal, and out of the caps it would take to get all of it.

So he'd poked about for some jobs-- honest jobs this time. It was indignant moving crates of scrap metal around, backbreaking even, but he could do it. All it risked was the Brotherhood catching wind once he put his name out again.

And they did. Unsurprising.

Granted, Devil wasn't in a spot to care all that much. He was sitting in the back of Moriarty's saloon with the last drink he could afford on the meager caps he'd scrapped together. Straight whiskey had done the trick to get him at least a little snookered- enough that he didn't instantly pull a gun when he heard somebody looking for the guy with horns.

[aamusedly]

@spakona / Kaldar .

Devil was true to his word; he didn't go far during Kaldar's recovery, though thankfully it was brief. Really the Fixer was just thankful he was getting some rest. No matter if the doctor told him to keep getting rest, Devil was skeptical if that would stick.

But it was once Kaldar was on his feet, gathering up his things to leave, that they had a visit from the Ripperdoc herself. Thus far she hadn't had anything to do with Kaldar, instead leaving him to more organically inclined medics, but allegedly she ran the clinic anyhow. The tablet in hand indicated well enough.

"What do I owe you, doctor?"

"I have good news and bad news, Devil. Good news is, I don't require additional payment. Your last regular installment has cleared it." Devil's expression seemed to gloss over with something blank and pensive, but he didn't interrupt. He could've finished her sentence for her anyhow. "The bad news is that... means, unfortunately, that we're out of stock of your regular meds. Instead of refunding your payment, I've transferred it to Kaldar's bill."

Amber eyes turned to the floor, thoughtful but searching the tiles beneath him. "And then when will you be in stock?"

"...I don't know, Devil. I would suggest... shopping." She paused, the professional mask she was wearing slipping for a moment. "And I would suggest not wasting time on that."

"What happened?" A flicker of anger.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose..." her eyes turned up to Devil's face. A hint of danger in the quiet. She looked back down. "Maelstrom zeroed our importer. You know those blockers are a commodity to them. ...I run a clinic, Devil, I don't have the manpower to--"

"Call the NCPD or something. 6th Street. I don't care."

"I wouldn't be telling you bad news if I didn't have to, Devil." She paused again. "I'm sorry. You'll have to look elsewhere. I'll shoot you what leads I can find."

"...Fine," he answered, and looked down to adjust his gloves. "Thank you for your help. I'll see you."

[aamusedly]

@noseblxxd for the Devil.

"Let me come with you."

It was abrupt, but the Devil rarely seemed to have room for subtle niceties.

The mercenary hadn't left Beverly's home in Megaton, or at least hadn't wandered far from it: she'd found him just outside, sitting on the steps he'd nearly tripped over himself to get up the night before. Devil was watching the sickly grey sky roll with clouds with a cigarette in hand and a tired look on his face-- a hangover, most likely.

But he had a bag and a rifle over his shoulder. Ready to go.

"I'm a good merc. I'll keep you safe, and you clearly get into a lot of trouble. I'm nicer than the ghoul you have, and I can get you into places he can't." Devil had only waited for a breath before elaborating, but this time he paused long enough to let a soulless, sly grin cross his face. "I'm better looking, too."

[aamusedly]

@tempesttragedy / Celia .

Devil was recovering well, but he was getting antsy. The question of 'what now' was beginning to shift away from 'get better.'

He'd become quieter, isolated. And it was just as isolated that Celia found him outside, scratching at the beginnings of a beard with his other hand occupied.

Between two fingers was a lit cigarette. In the rest was a photograph he'd shown her before, one of a mutt of a dog sitting on a couch. Beauregard, Devil had called him.

"...I wonder if they took him," he murmured. He'd heard Celia coming. His tail twitched.

[aamusedly]

@cheatdeaths .

The Devil knew how to compartmentalize in times of crisis. So when the Chimera needed guidance, it was only natural to issue commands and direction on how to clean up their trail left behind and better prepare for a counter.

But his hand didn't leave Six's, clenched tight as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Only she could've felt the tension in how his fingers trembled and his tail flipped with barely suppressed anxiety. Would she be okay? Would she even remember him? Would she not wake up the next morning?

Rest was uneasy when he finally found it. He'd booked a hotel, set up a computer, did what work he had to, and then curled up next to the unconscious Six-- or Dorothy Reed-- to try and stare at the ceiling and not at her.

The tears were reflexive when they came. Just a few drops of a wellspring, enough to feel and relish before he fell asleep.

By the time Six came to clearer, it was late morning. Golden light peeked through the seams of heavy blinds to just barely illuminate an expensive looking hotel suite. She was tucked into a nest of pillows and blankets, white satin and soft.

And there was the Devil sitting next to her bedside, hands carefully working to rebandage her head where he'd just checked the wound. Healing well.

His voice came quietly. "Six? Honey...?"