Carol's Place

Vergil stubbed his cigarette carefully out on the wall, before tucking the remaining bit into the carton. It was early, and he'd had a bit of time to loiter. Wasn't really condoned, smoking in the museum proper, but he'd had a need for nicotine. Though, now he thought on it, he probably should've left the ashy smear outside the Ninth Circle, across the way. Wasn't really fair to Carol and Greta, what he'd done. Damn near unkind.

Whatever. His moment was over and he needed to get in to work. Pushing open the door, Vergil gave his employers a brief hello. Carol smiled and lo, even Greta found it in her to nod. That was truly a little unfair on her though - two of them had come to an understanding, once it had been made crystal that Vergil wasn't anything to be jealous of. Matter of fact, they'd probably end up taking a smoke break together after things wound down for the evening.

He took up his usual position at a table, sitting with all the booze at his back. To be honest, Carol's place was an inn first and didn't even have a proper bar. But Carol hadn't wanted to turn him away, sweet thing she was, and they'd rigged something up. Apparently done it before too. Vergil didn't give much hooey to the specifics. He had a job and a bed and that was fine by him. Good sight better than wandering the Wastes.

Rocking the chair back on two legs, Vergil let his thighs catch the bottom and hung, feet dangling. It was going to be a bit before the first customer walked in and even then, he wouldn't get custom for a while. People still had their funny sense of time, meant most would only start drinking later on. Yeah, there were always the morning boozers and those who belived in hair of the dog, but now wasn't generally reguarded as "the time." And still when it started getting late, well... Not to say no one frequented, but Ahzrukhal still had a God honest bar and he had a table shoved into a faintly barlike position.

Vergil sighed and ran a hand through his few lanky remaining chunks of hair. It was unusual for him to have such downer thoughts. Probably hadn't had a good enough smoke; buzz was starting to thin. Maybe his prediliction for long nights and forced early mornings was catching up. Either way, it was almost decidedly too freaking long until his next break.

Dahlia sneaked quietly back into Carol's Place hoping she wouldn't be spotted. She knew that Carol didn't like her going outside where it was dangerous but she just couldn't help it. Willow always had the best guns and she gave great lessons on how to shoot a Brotherhood Member in the head from 30 yards and ducking. Dahlia tip toed over to the front desk, nodding at the few ghouls who were standing there and peered over the side to see if Carol was stocking the front desk with pre-war money.

Dahlia never knew why she did that. Carol had told her why once but she had been in one of her quiet moods and hadn't really been paying attention. She wished she had listened.

Seeing Carol back there she backed away from the desk before she could be spotted and ran towards the back, grabbing a clipboard on the way. She figured she might as well do inventory. That way if Carol or Greta asked where she had been she could say looking for Winthrop because he knew the best place to good steaks.

Taking a pencil off the table she smiled at some of the patrons and turned up the radio before getting to work marking down what they had and what they needed.

The crackle of the radio caught Vergil's attention. Oh, it was the smoothskin who helped Greta wait tables. Hunh. He hadn't seen her come in. Maybe she'd ducked in from the back, or while he was out and coming back in, he just hadn't noticed. Not hard for a quiet little thing like her. Fact, he belived the girl was almost too quiet. Though they worked together, Vergil couldn't profess to know her.

Perhaps he should change that. 'Sides, some talk would liven his mood.

"Hey there, girlie," he called, tossing off a grin loaded the cheek to match his remark. "Ready for another big day in this Ghoul's paradise?"

Vergil let the legs of the chair thunk to the floor, and caught his chin neatly on the backs of his folded hands. He rested his head, tilted, waiting. He eyed her, wondering if she'd actually figure to speak with him. Who knew, really? Despite having been a fixture at Carol's even when he'd gotten here, she might still decide to pull some holier-than-thou stuff.

Or, y'know, she might just not like him. Vergil knew as well as any he could get a touch hard to take.

Dahlia looked up when she heard a chair drop to the floor. Turning around from the inventory taking she looked to the ghoul sitting right behind her. She smiled and turned around happily, anything to get her not to take notes anymore.

"Hey yourself!" she said, moving over to the empty chair and sitting down, throwing the clipboard on the table. Kicking her legs up on the table she looked around to see if Greta had left yet. Not spotting her in the room anymore she eased down comfortably in the chair and reached to turn the radio up just a little bit more. 'Civilization' was playing and she adored that song.

"I'm always ready. I just got done from coming outside with Willow. Did you know you can shoot a Brotherhood member in the head from thirty yards with a shotgun? I didn't think you could but apparently you can." she snickered a bit at the memory then started tapping her feet in time to the music.

Well shit. Expect this, he sure as all had not. This was almost startlingly outgoing, as opposed to what he'd expected.

"Really can't say I did. Never really had a Brotherhood run-in either," he told her, warming up after the initial bit of surprise. "I mean, I had my runabout and ramble days, but most times I saw them, I scarpered. Personally, dealin' with those assholes is near more trouble than their dirty hides are worth." Vergil sniffed in a way that was meant to be disdainful, but went to his throat and turned rough and phlegmatic. Having a proper nose did have its uses.

The waitress' feet were ticking awful close in his peripheral vision, what with his head leaned forward and all. Vergil made a move to shift them gently over a bit, what remained of his lips twisting into a look of mild annoyance.
"Angelface, you think you could do me a kindness and scootch your tootsies over a touch? They're waggin' in my face."

"Oh! Sorry bout that!" Dahlia exclaimed loudly, sliding her feet back to the floor. She stretched, feeling almost all her bones pop at the same time then sighed happily and melted in the chair. Working here was tiring. Not that she didn't love it but sometimes she felt like leaving this place, doing something better. Being a part of something bigger than herself.

But she figured something like that would never happen to her.

She raised her arms above her head, stretching again then dropped them to table and rested her head on them. "Well I mostly don't deal with them either. Willow tells me their too dangerous to be around. Too trigger happy for their own good. But we ran across a couple today and they did their usual 'Shoot First - Ask Later' policy and we had no choice." Dahlia shrugged as if she didn't give it much thought then turned her head when she heard the door open. She prayed it wasn't Greta coming back in from her smoke break.

Greta would yell at her for not finishing inventory.

"Speaking of inventory..."Dahlia mumbled to herself she reached for the clipboard on the table and turned slightly in her chair. Might as well finish right here. By the looks of things behind her they were running out of whiskey anyway. She could do two things at once.

"Hey. You mind keeping me company while I finish taking inventory? I really don't wanna do this but I'll get chewed out by Greta if I don't." she asked, tilting her head as she waited for his answer.

"Ain't a problem, kiddo," he said, waving the most minor of minor offenses away.

"But yeah, that sounds like Brotherhood asshattery. Part'a why I avoided them. Like to think I did a fair job - 'm still mostly all here, right?" He shifted his hands to behind his head, stretching out, almost like he was presenting himself to prove his point. Helped that it was fairly well true.

Vergil followed her movements with lazily hooded eyes as she relaxed, then felt them open a touch when she promptly rose. Damn, was he gonna lose his company so early on, with all this flippin' time to kill? Her subsequent proposal however, was a great relief. Break in the incipient tedium, halleluja! Still, he oughta consider, if only for the face vaule.

"Well, we don't want Greta gettin' her druthers up, 'm I right?" he asked slowly, rising and walking to her side. "And even most of the hardcore lushes won't stumble in 'till later. And, y'know Ahzrukhal, sumbitch that he is, will probably see them before me. Even when they do stumble in, I might hafta 86 'em or they'll just be looking for a bed. Aw, whatever. Sure."

He pressed a little closer to her than what might've been comfortable, and topping that, took a peep at the clipboard. Didn't see much interesting - nothing really bar related on that page, maybe.

"We need more whiskey, hon," he said, eyes still lingering on the paper. "And we're runnin' a little low beer. Staples always dry up fast."

"You look mostly still here to me." She said, smiling a bit as he sat down next to her. "And no we don't want Greta going off on one of her rants. They tend to give everyone a headache."

Sticking the tip of the pen in her mouth, Dahlia began chewing on it and nodded in agreement to his whiskey comment. "Yeah. I was just thinking we needed more whiskey. Beer too huh?" She quickly wrote those two things down on the list before going over it. "My personal opinion is almost everyone here is a drunk. But I can't blame them. I would be too if Carol would let me. Circumstances being how they are..." She sighed and snuck a quick glance over at the front desk. Carol was now leaning against the pillar and smoking a cigarette while she chatted with a couple of people.

That cigarette looked really good right now.

Rolling her eyes, Dahlia looked behind her at the shelves then quickly added 'Brahmin Steak', 'Fancy Lads Snack Cakes', and 'Mirelurk Meat' to the list. "Hmm. Maybe we should add vodka too. Gotta have variety after all." She jotted that down as well. Going over it one last time she nodded stating, "I'm done. If there's anything else she wants she'll just have to write it down herself."

Dahlia looked at the ghoul sitting right next to her and decided she might as well introduce herself. "So, just in case you wanted to know or something, my name's Dahlia. I've seen you around a couple of times but figured you might not wanna talk to me. You know," she looked around them and motioned over at the other ghouls rambling about, "because everyone sees me and goes, 'Oh you're a smoothskin! We ain't got nothing to say to you!' and wanders away. Well, all the ones that are new. All of the old ones know me already. And seeing as how you look kinda new..."

Dahlia stared at him more intently then nodded. "Yeah you're kinda new. At least to me. So I figured you wouldn't wanna talk to me for whatever reasons. Are you the new guy Carol hired? That means you're getting paid. Lucky you, if you are that is."

She shut up, kind of embarrassed that she had talked so much. Greta always did tell her she could talk a person to death. But then again Greta always said anything to anybody so it didn't really count.

Dahlia tapped her pen against the clipboard in time with the song on the radio. 'Way Back Home' was playing now. She wished she knew the name of the person who sang it.

"Well thank you kindly," he said, posing a little in the chair. "Pretty near make going Ghoulie look good, don't I?" Vergil didn't wait for a response before charging ahead, stealing a quick look at the door to check for Greta.

"Yeah. Whenever Greta gets goin' I feel the need for a cigarette break. But she's not all bad all the time, y'know? Mean, every once in a time, I take that break with her. That's different somehow. Maybe -," he said, looking up from the clipboard, a faintly malicious smile working its way to his scaborous face, "-it's 'cause she dosen't talk much then."

Straightening up from stooping over her shoulder, Vergil looked over the establishment, not quite focusing on any particular thing. "And of course everyone's a drunk, sugar. People like to drink away troubles, always have 'n always will. Being Ghoul 's a crappy life, no matter how good I make it look. Big ugly looming thing facin' you down, even with the rad immunities and the lifespan. No one's real fond of you either, even the good-lookin' young ones like me. Predjudiced twits." Vergil looked like he may have wanted to spit, but didn't for civility's sake. 'Sides, they were indoors. His flash of irritation faded as he looked down at the waitress again. He looked at her for a moment before looking away and speaking again. "Ah, damn Brotherhood talk got me thinkin' 'bout all the assholes in the world 's all." The tone was apologetic, but he never said sorry for the sudden burst of venom.

"So," he continued, a good deal more lightly, waving his hand as if to dismiss the sudden dark tone that had gathered. "You all done? Good."

Her sudden introduction stopped him from going back around to his side of the table. "Dahlia, hunh? Carol's new girl, right? Took me in, too. Christ, she's a saint. And uh, naw, I don't mind talking to you. 'm not a snob, swear. Just don't like bigots. But heck - who does, am I right?" Vergil ran a hand through his remaining hair, trying to ignore the possibly that some could fall out because he did so. "Ah, I'm Vergil. Resident bartender, and put some big honkin' quote-y fingers around that. Not to say I'm no good at what I do, but, well," The ghoul's voice was rueful as he glanced down at the plain table. It seemed embarassed, as if it wasn't happy with the shelf of bottles set purposefully behind it. "So yeah, they hired me. But most 'a my pay is in a place to sleep, though I get a few caps, too. 'M guessing that you just get the bed, right?"

Dahlia shook her head as she relaxed back into her chair. "Well yeah...but it's more than that. They're like family. Everyone here raised me practically but Carol...You're completely right. She really is a saint." She sighed a bit and looked over towards the front desk where Carol had leaned against the pillar and gave a soft smile. "She's been more of a mother than my own has. Wherever she might be."

Dahlia looked up at Vergil and smiled brightly. "Hi Vergil. I'll have it known that on good authority that I'm not a bigot in any sense of the word." She waved her arms around, motioning at the place in its entirety. "I was raised here. It would make little sense to be an asshole to the people who raised me. I don't know why the Brotherhood are like that. Maybe I'll found out one day." She looked over at one of the customers who was sitting at another table and got up, grabbing the clipboard as she went.

"Looks like we have a customer. But I wouldn't mind still talking to you as we did so." She tilted her head in his direction then semi saluted him with the clipboard as she walked over to the customer. "Hey! How ya doing Tiger. I know what you want. Double shots of whiskey as usual right?" Dahlia looked over at Vergil. "You got a customer. I'm gonna go hand this clipboard over to Carol then start cleaning k? Let me know when you're gonna go out for a smoke. Cause I definitely need one too."

With a giggle she made her way over to the front desk, humming a song while Three Dog went on about not feeding the 'Gaui and weapon maintenance.

OOC: Sorry this took a million years. I had an attack of the RLs

"Mmmhmm. You're kinda lucky Dahl, havin' this place take to you the way it 'as. Mosta the people here don't like me much. Too chatty an' such. Ah, well." He spread his hands in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "Their fault for bein' flippin' gloom misers. And don't worry, kiddo. I'll let you know when I'm out for a smoke."

As he sidled back behind the bartable, Vegil turned, tossing a final remark to her over his shoulder. "Oh - Dahl, I can work my job fine. I saw the guy. Done this before, too. So! not to fret and all." He smiled as he said it, but there was something a touch irritated in it - a sense of professional offense, the kind a venerable teacher might give a greenhorn student who liked to nitpick.

Turning to the Ghoul customer, Vergil put on his best business face, with just a little half smile. After all, this guy wasn't too bad off or lookin' either. New settler too, so he was fresh-faced in more than one respect. "So," Vergil asked, nodding to the now seated man, "-how many of those whiskey doubles you want to start?"

"Uh, two fer now."

Vergil pulled two shot glasses from the shelf behind him, taking a bottle down with the other hand.

"Starting up strong, hunh? Hey, the bourbon stuff alright or are you hankerin' for something specific, if we got it?"

"What?" The customer looked up from whereever he'd let his eyes roam. "Oh. No, that'll be fine."

Setting the glasses on the table, he opened the whiskey and poured two damn-near-to-even as one could get double shots. He worked quietly, for once, instead peripherally eyeballing the man in front of him. "There you go," he said, closing up the bottle with a small flourish, "-Tiger." Vergil caught the other Ghoul's eye as he nudged the drinks forward.

Dahlia snickered to herself as she started heading over to the front desk. "Oh they don't like me running off with my mouth either..." She said more to herself than to Vergil. She placed the clipboard on the desk as she moved around Carol to grab one of her cigarettes. Then she got lightly smacked on the head.

"Hey! What was that for?" Dahlia exclaimed, blocking her head from anymore attacks and dropping her lone cigarette in the process.

"Now Dally I want you to go find Greta for me. She's been outside for a very long time and-"

"And she's right over there." Dahlia said, pointing to where the beds were located. Carol turned her head to look and Dahlia quickly grabbed the cigarette off the floor and placed it behind her ear. She had a bright smile on her face by the time Carol turned back around.

"See? She's lying on the bed. Probably passed out from some reason or another. I finished the list." She pointed at the clipboard as she slowly started making her way from behind the desk.

"I don't want you goin outside that much anymore, you hear me?" Carol had crossed her arms and was giving a pretty good glare for a person who didn't have much of a nose anymore.

"But Ma I..." Dahlia sighed and gave her a look then crossed her fingers behind her back and nodded. "Sure Ma. I promise I won't go outside."

Carol excepted that as an answer then went back to counting her caps in the register. Dahlia took that as a very good sign to get away.

"Going to go see if any more customers need anything then I'm gonna head out for a smoke." She could see Carol start to make a protest and waved, smiling happily. "Kay, thanks, love you Ma!!" Then she ran over to the other side of the room, almost mowing over a couple of people on the way.

She ran back towards the table where Vergil was attending to his customer. "Hey you think you can get me a drink? You can reach the scotch better than I can." She grabbed a rag from out of her pocket then started wiping down the other tables, nodding and smiling to each and every other ghoul that was in the place.

The radio crackled softly as the last notes of an ancient ballad petered out.

"That was the First Lady of music herself, Miss Ella Fitzgerald, telling us that “Into Each Life, a Little Rain Must Fall.” Ain’t that the truth sister. Ooh, Capitol Wasteland! This is Three Dog, Awooo! Coming to you loud and proud from Galaxy News Radio! Ahh yes, time for the news.
It seems the town of Grayditch has gone quiet. Residents haven’t come out to trade with the caravans and those who try to make contact have been met with… silence. So if you’re out by Grayditch, you may want to pop in and see what’s what.
Until next time, this is Three Dog, Awwoooooo! And you’re listening to Galaxy News Radio, bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. Now, some music!"

"So what brings you here? 'Mean, I've seen you some, but you're still pretty new," Vergil asked, quirking his head to one side as he polished glasses. It was honestly something he should've done earlier, but he'd been talking to Dahlia and then this guy had come up. Not like he could help being busy. Honsestly though, this one was intriging. Vergil couldn't help but conjure parallels between the young (but still admittedly older than him) new settler and himself, even though those two things were really all they had in common. That he knew of. So far. And Vergil was social as all hell, so any opportunity to gab was readily taken.

The Ghoul pounded his first shot quickly, coming back up with a grimace. Damn sure did look like he was trying to booze something away.

"Whattya mean," the Ghoul rasped, voice made even harsher by liquor on the raw vocal chords. "Like here-here or Underworld-here or what?"

"Huh - suppose it's both. Mostly the first. 'Cause I find it hard imaging a Ghoul that dosen't beeline for th' Underworld once they get word. 'S our one town."

"Yeah," the other man replied, hesitating on his second shot. "But--"

Vergil cut him off, blithely continuing to talk. "I know plenty rough it just as well as anything, but I imagine supply runs are a mite tough what with our general reception by the smoothies. And yeah, there's the ones with big gran-di-ous dreams, startin' another Underworld, finding more'n one haven - but how many get behind them? Who all we have here 's enough to prove that don't go over much." He gave the customer a look that was just a bit sad and meant to seem knowing, but assuming was probably a better label. "Be nice to have somewhere else though," he continued, quiter. "It does crowd up, Underworld here bein' the only place. Speaking of," he said, brightening a touch, " - that calls to mind the second bit. Why're you in Carol's? Not that this isn't a top notch establishment, but uh, it's really more on a sleep and eat sorta wavelength. Ninth Circle is the bar." Vergil was eyeing the glass in the man's hands, now half full. He'd taken the first of his second half shot sometime during all the chatter, probably to better put up with it.

The waitress' call for a drink and the bartender's subsequent reply of "No problem, Dahlia; I got you covered." stymied the other ghoul's response even further, but when the radio crackled its anouncement, that put a damper on the whole Place.

First to break the silence with a long, low whistle, Vergil shook his head. "Damn," he said. "Hope whatever's out there 's not too horrible."

Dahlia frowned after she heard the radio announcement about Grayditch. She didn't know anyone there but every time a settlement went quiet it was probably something bad like raiders or worse. Super mutants. She started biting on her lip worriedly, slowing down her hand as she wiped down the table. A customer looked at her then frowned and moved away but she didn't notice. She got lost in her thoughts for a few moments before snapping out of it.

'Whatever must've happened there had to be bad. I wish I could go check it out.' she thought. She glanced over at Carol who was leaning against the pillar. 'Ma will never let me go.' She sat down at the table she was wiping down and let her head drop into her hand.

She glanced over at the radio as Three Dog started talking about the importance of weapon maintenance. Everyone in the place was either sleep or about to leave. She glanced over to where Vergil was and saw him talking to a customer.

She let her head drop to the table with a loud 'thunk'. 'I wanna go outside with Willow again.' she started humming a lullaby Carol sang to her when she was young. Glancing over at the clock hanging above the front desk she smiled softly. "A few more hours...then I can have my fun...Hey Vergil! You got a smoke? I think I need my break now."

Vergil looked up when Dahlia called to him. He was a little reluctant to leave his budding friendship-association-thing with the customer but the place was pretty dead. And he could use a smoke. 'Course, Vergil could always use a smoke.

"Ah, I'm goin' for a bit of a break," he told the man, who tossed back the last half of his shot, as Vergil rose.

"Hey. Before you go, could you gimme a beer? I'll need somethin' to nurse on if you're poppin' out."

"Not a problem." Vergil turned and snagged a bottle, setting it on the tabletop. Tiger, as he seemed to have been dubbed, pulled it over and unscrewed the top, taking a slow sip. He looked like he really wanted to just crawl on in and Vergil had to wonder just what the hell was going on with this guy. Questions for later, maybe?

As he passed by, sidling out from behind the table, Vergil lay a hand on the guy's shoulder, to bring the attention back to him. It lingered perhaps a little too long there, a heartbeat after Vergil had finished speaking. "Be right outside if ya need anything; just come grab me. Seeya, Tig."

He strode up alongside Dahlia, making a gentle tug at her elbow and beginning for the door. "C'mon kid, let's take that break - hey, Carol," he called, "We're goin' out for a sec; be back soon."

Dahlia began following after Vergil, smiling at Carol as Vergil told her they were leaving to grab a smoke. She waved away her mother's excuses and quickly darted out the door, waiting for Vergil on the other side.

"Man. She won't let me out of her sight for a minute!" Dahlia shook her head and waited for Vergil to hand her a smoke. She rolled her eyes as she noticed Winthrop downstairs, getting some poor sucker to give them scrap metal. "If we really needed scrap metal we would just send Quinn or Willow out for some. Jeez."

She skipped down the stairs, in a way that always made Dr. Barrows terrified for her safety when she was younger, and made her ways towards the entrance. "Been waiting for hours to get a smoke. Why does Ma have to be so overprotective? It's not like I go anywhere anyway...." Dahlia looked down at the ground and rubbed her eyes. Not that she was crying but she always got dust in her eyes when she went out into the lobby area of the museum. Someone really needed to clean out her one of these days.

Following along at a much more sedate pace, Vergil crossed the threshold. "I got no worries about bein' watched on. Big boy, tie my own shoes and all," he told her, grinning.

Pulling the battered pack out of his back pocket, Vergil tapped out the half-finished cancer stick from earlier that day, along with a fresh one. Stuff like this was something of a commodity, and he wasn't about to waste anything. Shoving the carton back into his pocket, Vergil came back with a lighter, a metal one that had once been shiny. Flicking it open, he lit his stub and the new one before passing that to Dahlia.

Reclining against the wall he took a drag and exhaled politely away from her. "I know you can't stand being overshadowed by Carol, but you do seem to wanna strike out sometime. Me personally, I dunno why you'd wanna go anywhere," he said. "Mean, I can see this ain't a great place for ya, but where'd you head off to anyway? And how'd you make it there, kiddo?" Noticing Dahlia rub at her eyes, Vergil leaned forward a bit, inspecting. "You alright?"

"Oh I'd wanna go somewhere. It can get kinda boring here doing the same thing over and over again." she said. Dahlia reached for the cigarette Vergil was handing to her and took it, lighting it with her spare lighter. She leaned back against the wall next to him and waved her hand that wasn't holding onto the cigarette. "Oh I'm fine. My eye was just bothering me. The dust in this place can get ridiculous."

She inhaled a bit then exhaled the smoke over towards the giant wooly mammoth exhibit.

"I don't know where I'd go. Probably over to Grayditch. I wanna know what happened to everyone over there. And how I'd get there...I dunno that either." She shrugs and sticks the tip of her cigarette into her mouth. "Ma always said I was a busybody. Always got to be doing something. Just not here I guess..."

There was blood crusted on Charon's armor, on his hands, even stray spatters on his face. None of it was his own. His shotgun remained in place on his back, clean and unfired. Ahzrukhal had ordered him to do the job by hand, so Charon had tracked down the ghoul female and broken her with his fingers.

He didn't know what she'd done to earn Ahzrukhal's wrath. It was not his business to know.

Charon passed Willow, who gave him a revolted and mistrustful look but knew better than to comment, and stepped into the museum lobby. He paused alongside the yellowed bones of the mammoth display so that his eyes could adjust to the torchlight, curling the stiff fingers of one hand against the palm of the other. The hollow pop of his knuckles echoed off marble walls.

Dahlia blew out another puff of smoke, her eyes drifting over the crumbling picture in front of her. She smiled at the sight of it. No matter what anyone said she really did love this place. Dahlia went to take another hit of her cigarette when she heard a popping noise then noticed a person standing over by the mammoth exhibit. It wasn't a smoothskin like her. They tended to stay away from here. That left a ghoul. She opened her mouth to say, "Hey come on in if you're coming!" when she realized exactly who it was. Even though she had never laid eyes on him.

It was Charon.

She had heard alot about him but never actually saw him in the flesh. Carol always told her to never go into Ahzrukhal's bar in the first place, which is where he always was. Mostly everyone had something bad to say about him but she always tried to look for the best in everyone, so she never really took what they said to heart. He was everything everyone had told her he was.

Dark. Scary. Looked like he knew how to use that gun.

She lifted her cigarette up to her lips and inhaled, sighing out the smoke as she tried not to be too obvious with her staring. "He looks exhausted..." she mumbled to herself, while flicking her cigarette ashes to the ground.

A very filthy and apparently shaken boy staggered through the large doors leading into the Museum lobby. He squinted into the comparative darkness of the massive room before him, eyes slowly adjusting from the blinding sunlight he'd just escaped from. I don't think I'll ever get used to it out there. His nose wrinkled as he regarded the filth and decay around him, Well at least I have a roof over my head.

Taking a few steps into the room he looked around, trying to remember what the nice but grotesque lady outside had said, "You're looking to get to Rivet City? Best talk to Quinn... he's the only one of us that travels. He might be able to help you get there, but I doubt he'll do it for free." A dejected sign escaped his lips as he continued to trudge forward, his head hung low. What price? I don't have anything to give...

Looking up he was shocked to see a man standing several feet ahead of him by a large statue... What the heck is that anyway? A tired smile spread across his face as he sprinted a few steps towards the stranger, "Excuse me--" He broke off, however, when he got close enough to get a good look at the man before him God... What are these people? Clearing his throat he continued, trying to keep the nerves from his voice, "Excuse me, Sir? You wouldn't happen to be a... Mr. Quinn, would you?" Please say no...

Charon eyed the pair lingering by the entrance to the museum proper. He'd seen them around, and though he hadn't interacted with either of them personally, he knew exactly who they were. They were Carol's, which meant they were of interest to Ahzrukhal, which in turn meant that Charon had wasted more than one night shadowing one or the other as they went about their mundane tasks.

Dahlia, the smoothskin girl, was the more frequent target of Ahzrukhal's curiosity. Charon figured, on the rare occasions that his control relaxed enough to ponder the motivations of his employer, that there was an unsavory dimension to the bartender's focus. This was supported by the instance in which Ahzrukhal had directed Charon to sneak into the room where the girl slept and obtain a certain delicate item of clothing for his "research."

He cleared his throat, an abrasive, barking sound, and started to move forward. Someone spoke behind him and he whirled, too fast and too smoothly for someone so large, his fingers brushing the butt of his gun.

It was a kid, someone Charon hadn't seen before. He didn't appear dangerous, but only a fool would judge that from a first impression. His hand wrapped more firmly around his weapon, ready to draw and fire at a moment's notice.

"No," he snarled in response to the kid's question. And, in an unusually loquacious mood, he went on. "Keep walking." He stood still, eyes narrowed, not willing to move until the stranger was in front of him.

Putting her cigarette out on the wall behind her, she coughed quickly and waved her free hand around the smoke that was still lingering in the air. She knew her Ma would have a fit if she caught the scent of stale cigarettes on her.

Tucking what's left of the cig behind her ear and covering it as best she can with her hair she flinched quickly when she heard the huge museum doors open and shut again. 'And here I thought my day would be boring...' Dahlia thought to herself as she noticed some boy who probably couldn't be older than her come trailing in behind Charon.

She glanced over at Charon again and noticed he seemed to be staring at Vergil and herself with an almost bored look to his face. Her gut reaction was to walk over there and demand what he was looking at them for but he looked quite terrifying enough with that gun strapped to his back. No reason to have him pull it out on her of all people.

Dahlia spared one last look at the dirty boy who was trying to adjust to how it smelled in here if the look on his face was anything to go by, and lifted herself off the wall to head back inside, waving at Vergil who was still sucking on his cigarette. She thumbed towards the entrance behind her and reached over to open the door when she heard the question being asked. 'Damn the acoustics in this lobby.' She quickly turned back around to shout out to him but it was too late.

Charon had already put his hand on the shotgun and was definitely willing to pull it out on him if he didn't move.

How can he be so fast... Twain stumbled back a step as the stranger turned to face him, a knot of fear gripping tightly at his chest. He noticed the man had his hand on the extremely dangerous looking gun he wore and blanched, "I... I... I'm sorry S-Sir..." A sudden wave of utter hopelessness overtook him and he did his best to restrain his tears, "P-please Sir... I need to find Mr. Quinn... I need to get to R-Rivet City..." He trailed off as his gaze drifted to the large demonic doors before them and he noticed two other figures. One was a monster like the woman outside and the man before him, but the other... She's normal... Oh thank God.

Brushing the tears hastily from his eyes Twain spoke again to the man before him, his voice wavered but the desperation was fading, "T-Thank you Sir... I'm sorry to bother you..." He skirted around the man, making sure to keep his eyes on him, and more specifically his gun, until he felt he was a safe distance away.

His pace slowed as he approached the new set of strangers. Clearing his throat awkwardly as he shuffled to a stop he glanced between them, "Um... would either of you happen to know where I could find Mr. Quinn?"

A terrifying thought struck him as he finished speaking, If they say no I might break down right here...