rivetcitysecurity:

‘Harky.’ That was a new one. He hesitated for a moment in the doorway, his eyes lingering on the synth Thomas had been working on. Gently. He’d never seen that before. It… his chest tightened as he met her eyes and he gave her a curt nod. “Let me know if you need anything,” he muttered brusquely, and followed Thom back out to Wally.

“You’re good with them,” he said as they walked. “With…us. Synths. Or bots,” he amended, nodding up at the neon sign. “Did you…were you at the Institute?” Aside from Pinkerton, everyone he knew with such experience came from there. He couldn’t imagine any alternative way to get that kind of knowledge.

By the time they arrived Wally was clearly waking up, the machines beeping with increasing regularity as his heart rate registered his consciousness, and finally he opened his eyes.

“Welcome back,” Harkness grinned. “Wally.” Bash was a stupid fucking name. He looked over at Thom. “I can get him a bottle if you want.” That’s how they dealt with patients in need of a piss in Rivet City. A bottle, a helping hand, and no questions.

      A faint, but genuine smile touched scarred lips, a glint of amusement creeping its way into the blue of his intact eye. That was a rare compliment he would accept, and do so graciously. But the follow up question… “I have friends in low places.” He says, giving Harkness a wink as he holds open a heavy door, letting the man pass through before himself and pulling it shut behind them. 

Hippocrates bustled about, Velma, another modified Gen 2 was standing off to the side, her nurse’s hat askew. Tom murmured to her, pointing up, gesturing that she should fix it. She only slid it more off center. Ah well. Thomas followed her as she moved to Walter’s side, the commotion from the machines monitoring his vitals making them all turn. 

      “He has a catheter, sir.” Hippy corrected them, wagging a thin, metal finger at the pair standing next to Walter’s side. “He may visit, but he needs his rest! and to eat.” 

      “Yeah, yeah, Hippy! We got it.” Thomas grinned, sidling up to Walter and leaning down, maybe a bit too close as he peered at his face. “You almost died, you tit. Couldn’t go a week without startin’ a fuss, could ya?” 

“A what?! THAT sounds painful, is it a lasting effect, or an infection-- Tommy do I have an infection?” he says glancing between the Hippocrates and Thomas, staring up into his eyes. Aw, he missed them mismatched eyes. He wriggled a little in the bed, propping himself up on his elbows with a hiss, nope bad idea so he lays back down. A devious smirk spread across his lips and he reached up booping a finger on Tommy’s nose.