#anarchywithin

somewhere out there, Sawyer is questioning his sexuality

      Admittedly, this time the damage isn’t as excessive; just a nasty scraping and a large dent in the right side-cover; but it is the aforementioned unfortunate financial situation that has him nervously chewing on his bottom lip as he awaits the mechanic’s verdict. The last break he’d caught had been roughly two months long, which allowed him to find himself a temp job at a construction site and save up just a little bit of money --- but even if that turned out to be just enough to afford the repair by some miracle --- it will leave him entirely broke yet again. Not that he minds, really --- he’s not unfamiliar with finding a park bench or a dry patch under a bridge to sleep on, nor is he unfamiliar with going hungry for a little while --- but summer is coming to its slow end and, soon enough, if he fucks up again, he’ll have to make the impossible choice between fixing his bike and having a warm place to sleep in.

      Dirty fingers raking through greasy hair in a poor attempt to push it out of Job’s face soon drop as he brings both arms to cross over his chest, weight shifting from one leg to another as though he were anxiously waiting for a doctor to report back on the medical condition of a loved one who’d fallen ill. “So, uh, is it bad? Or, y’know, manageable?”

At first, she had been a bit scared of him. She was already nervous enough with strangers, but he also gave off this look of being a tough, dangerous mercenary. However, the pre-war objects in his possession had been enough to push her to approach him. Those objects in particular were rather rare, so she was all too happy to part with caps to get them. What she did not expect to come out of it was a sort of trading system to come about from the meeting.

Although, she was glad it did. It was a partnership that was mutually beneficial. He got caps, and she got historical artifacts. Her income of objects had increased rather substantially, considering there were now two people contributing to her collection instead of just herself. Meanwhile, her own scavenging trips still yielded artifacts to keep and items to sell. This would give her the caps she needed to pay Sawyer. 

But, to her pleasant surprise, there came a time when she did not need to use any of her caps to buy artifacts from him. However, she had already grown to look forward to his stops in Diamond City. So when he began to simply give them to her, that only endeared him to her even more.

Another chuckle slipped past her rosy lips at the ‘power of spite’ part. Still grinning, she watched his hand fidget with the rotary telephone. “I’ve, um, never really been one for spite, I guess. But it is a thought. It would be nice to show people I’m not just an obsessive junk collector or whatever they think of me.”

continued from x

She watched him. He seemed a little out of it still, but that was to be expected. People could pretend to be as tough and battle-worn as they wanted, but suffering through a wound that looked as bad that would still be enough to knock anyone down a few pegs. She probably wouldn’t have fared even half as well.

At his question, Victoria shifted. She reached for her med-kit, a small thing she kept for personal use and for the rare occasions she felt like bothering to be a decent human being.

@anarchywithin.

A smile immediately pulled at her lips, as her gaze took on an inspired gleam. Honestly, it was she needed to hear. So many in Diamond City (and a few in Goodneighbor) thought she was wasting her time preserving pre-war artifacts. That she was doing little more than collecting garbage. But the man before her had a very good point. There was more on the line than just her dreams — she needed to prove the naysayers wrong about the validation of historical research and about herself.

Starter for @anarchywithin. 

         It was quiet but for the noise machine in the hallway. Out in the lobby, one could hear the faintest notes of "Tupelo Honey" playing from the reception desk. A bookcase on the far wall held titles on trauma, family, and self help organized by color in rainbow order. Next to the bookcase was a framed artist's rendering of "shalom" in Hebrew lettering, and he may have noticed a mezzuzah on the door frame when he came in. Sadie was sitting in what looked like a well-loved office chair, the fake leather worn in some areas, but the effect wasn't so much shabby as it was comfortable looking. Like a pair of favorite jeans. She had one leg crossed over the other and a pink notepad balanced on the top leg, pen poised in her hand as she waited for Sawyer to settle in.