#six. ic.

[nuclearspring-a]

@blcsscdson / it occurs to him as the gecko steak sears in the pan (cookware courtesy of an abandoned house a few miles in the distance) that he will indeed need to take his helmet off to eat. there is nothing wrong with this, except that he's had too many mentats and is certifiably antsy. half expects to be shot in the head the moment he shows his face.

steak is done. he shoves one helping off on jack, and then, after lengthy hesitation, begrudgingly removes the helmet. hunches a little bit in his irritation (though the paranoia is a factor as well). eyes jack, eyes their surroundings, eyes the moon, the fire. waits for movement.

[nuclearspring-a]

[ STORM ] / @savorre. this must have been a fallout shelter once, if not a particularly good one. boris cheerfully relocates the three environmental storytelling skeletons that were its sole occupants before he and bledsoe joined them. once the bones are in the other room, further excavations are underway - the force of the storm provides a rocky whistling ambience as boris cracks open a crate of-

oh. nuka cola.

he'd really been hoping for supplies. or at least less tame refreshments. he casts a judgmental glance at the resident skeletons now in the other room. live a little, he thinks in their direction. for fuck's sake. "hmph." he slumps down dramatically on a centuries-old mattress. "no fucking taste."

[nuclearspring-a]

hand to god, i wasn't gonna say this, but you are broke. / @wandercr. "нет. uh, no. i have money in another account. accessible via teleportation." he reaches into his pocket for the transportalponder.

there is no transportalponder in his pocket.

"fuck," says the courier mildly. "misplaced it, maybe."

it's not in the other pocket.

he's a minute into a thorough search of his supply pack when rex comes bounding up, one very chewed up transportalponder fragment in his teeth.

"fuck," says the courier, now less mildly. "okay. yes. either i rebuild this from scratch, or." a frown. "i rob a casino, or." a sigh. "yes. broke."

[nuclearspring-a]

[ BOUNTY ] / @lerevers. six takes a sip from his trusty vault 13 canteen and weighs extortion for a spell. this is a purely intellectual exercise - the caps might be nice, but some form of law has taken root in his skull.

never mind that a large portion of his motivation here is the chance at being a thorn in several sides. he will deny a grudge if asked (provided his current chemical cocktail is suited to dishonesty) but more than one bounty hunter round these parts has pissed him off before. he reserves the right to be a petty bastard some of the time. (let him have weekends).

he rifles around in his pocket and pulls out a tin of mentats. his eyes slide left as he takes one, coming to rest on his charge. "so. does this happen to you frequently?"