Hired Help

Butch: You’re horrible at stealth. You kill everything you see.

as requested by anon. note: some of these work better if one of the muses is pushed up against a wall. part two ( x ) and more angry ones ( x )

Angry

“Make me.”

“I dare you.”

“Bite me.”

“You think you can just run that pretty mouth of yours whenever you want?!”

“Wanna bet?”

“If you complain that it’s hot one more time, I’m going to give you a reason to sweat.”

“Prove it.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“If you bite your lip one more time, I’m going to do it for you.”

“Oh, well fuck me, then.”

“Shut up!”

“Yell at me again, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.”

Flirty

“I wish we weren’t out in public…”

“Wow, you’re really strong.”

“Wanna go for a ride?”

“You sure can’t keep your hands to yourself…”

“Ah, I think I need a new bed.”

“Can you help me with my tie?” / “Can you zip up my dress for me?”

“You have really nice fingers…”

“Are we going downtown?”

“You should come by my place…I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“That outfit looks good on you. But, you’d also look good without the outfit.”

“What do you wear to bed?”

Awkward

“Do you have to eat it like that?”

“Uhm–t-those shorts look tight–”

“Hey, stop biting your lip…”

“Wha–is that a banana in your pocket?”

“You’re standing a little close to me…”

“Hey–you’ve got a little something on your face–”

“My keys are in my pocket. Can you get them for me?”

“Help me find the D? I mean, the variable–i-it’s math…”

“I just wanna grab your bu–hand. Grab your hand.”

With that, she rolls her eyes, “Yeah, no shit. Doesn’t mean I still won’t at least attempt to.” the vaultie states stubbornly. Frustrated, she reminds herself to breathe, to control her temper. She wanted to scream that she was right. that he should just listen – but she knows it’s not that simple.

C'mon, just like Jonas taught you: In through the nose, out the mouth. Fuck, I wish he was here…I wish dad was here…I wish….

Violet’s fists clench, and she’s obviously tense, but she manages to not lose her cool, “I’ll just drop it. Whatever.” she half-mutters, standing up to tend to the food.

She’d tried. It was the best she could do for now, right?

The meat was almost done, and she takes the small pot of vegetables away from the flames and drains the water slightly away from the camp, Dogmeat following on her heels – obviously concerned for her. She pats the dog and returns quietly to the camp, taking her place by the fire again, and she readies plates of food for the both of them before moving to offer one to Charon with a meek, somewhat apologetic smile.

Charon watched as his new employer raised from her seat, clearly frustrated with the answers he had to her questions. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it to begin with, so he was glad when she gave orders to ‘just drop it’ as if she really needed to. 

The meat smelled delicious. Charon hadn’t eaten a meal this good in decades. The vegetables, she must’ve worked so hard to find those,  and they smelled delicious. Hard work rarely paid off for Charon, only for his employers, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t about to respect it. This shocked him even further when she offered him a plate of it. “Oh, no,” He almost immediately expressed, reflexively. Ahzrukhal would never let him accept food that people offered to him. There had been a resident of Underworld, about fifteen years back, who had offered him food on multiple occasions and… that hadn’t ended well for Charon or the resident. 

Despite his past experience, Charon took the plate, suddenly more aware that just today he’d taken a life he’d been longing to take for decades. A life that had caused Charon himself so much pain and suffering alongside forcing him to inflict it on others. The Ghoul really hoped that this had all come to an end, but he could never be too sure. The day he let his guard down was the day he died. 

She groans, frustrated that she couldn’t just get rid of the cursed thing. However, he was very adamant about it, so she doesn’t argue, and just folds it neatly back up again and puts it away before moving to sit beside Charon, grabbing the whiskey bottle as she does.

“I’ll keep it safe, then.” she assures him, taking another swig of whiskey and holding out the bottle to him again, “I just want you to know I’ve got your back, too, since you have mine. I’d like us to be a team, not just employer and employee – equals.”

Violet bites her lip, stopping herself before she could ramble too much. Compassion was something she wanted to show the ghoul, since they would need to have each other’s backs, but she’d always struggled showing such things with words.

He watched ever so thankfully as she folded the contract and returned it to her pocket. Of course, he wasn’t about to trust her yet, or even over the course of the next few weeks. If she expected to gain his trust... it would take something more of months in order to do so. The lack of trust he held for her was only confirmed when she offered him the bottle and called them ‘equals’. He wanted to laugh out loud at such a silly thing. 

Equals? Me? You? Oh, Violet, you stupid little naive vaultie. If you think we can be equals, you are so pathetically wrong. You hold my contract. You have complete control over me. There is no way we could ever be equals.  

She takes a look at the contract in her hands, to check, though she had no doubt he was telling the truth. The paper was old and faded, and smudged in most places, making difficult to read even with her glasses – Yet it still seemed to hold such power over Charon, and that only made her concern grow.

She sighs, setting it down to focus on her cooking again, putting the steaks on the other side above the fire.

“Fine, and what if I burned it?” she questions, staring into the flames afterwards.

Charon nearly shuddered at the idea. He could not let that happen. The contract itself was more of his employer than anyone who held it. If harm was brought to the contract, he would protect it with his life. “That is also not an option.” He shook his head, eyes traveling back to the whiskey bottle that sat between them. 

He thought about lifting it up and taking another swig, but he didn’t trust if it was acceptable or not, and asking could have been just as big of a risk. He looked back into the fire in order to avoid seeming so needy for it. It had been decades since he’d been permitted to drink and the burn had felt so nice on his throat. 

“Of course.” she responds with a smile, taking a swig of the liquid herself, not minding that his lips had been on it too – of all the new germs and diseases around, it hardly seemed the most threatening to be sharing a bottle with someone.

She sets the bottle between them to reach into the pocket of her vault suit and grabs out the piece of paper Ahzrukhal had given her, Charon’s contract.  Looking at it gave her a sick feeling to her stomach – had she really bought someone? Even if the alternative was leaving him there, it still felt so wrong. She holds out the contract to Charon, giving him an uneasy look,

“I really don’t want it, Charon. Take it. I don’t want to be like Ahzrukhal–it isn’t right.”

“Yes, it is,” Violet smiles, “but I wanted your opinion, too.” she sets her own pack down and starts the beginnings of a fire outside of the subway car, to be able to cook food for them and provide light and warmth. She’s able to turn off her Pip-Boy’s light as the blaze illuminates the area around them.

She’d managed to trade her repair expertise for some brahmin steaks on her way to Underworld, and had some vegetables that still seemed good, so she sets about preparing them. Letting the vegetables boil and the steak fry side-by-side, she sits back by the fire with a content sigh, digging through her bag once more to produce some whiskey.

“Here, ya want some?” she offers the unopened bottle to Charon when he’s finished setting up their camp.