#bottlecapping

Unspecified Meme that I was too lazy to look for!

His breathing is labored and tired, shoulders heaving in slow and deliberate huffs. Ass to the ground, muzzle pointed between his eyes. There's an unexplainable electricity in the air, a hatred that runs deep between the two. Perhaps not for personal reasons, but ideologically. Seemingly both the antithesis of the other.

Boone was no coward, nor did he have reservations about putting mad dogs like Cicero down. Which only makes him wonder why the hesitation?

"You waitin' for me to cry or somethin'? To beg? Fuck you."

Blood is spat on the other's boots and pants, the spray sticky and staining. Cicero's lips curl back over individually pointed teeth, stained reddish with a mixture of their blood.

                       Hand  smooths  over  red  hair,  a  sigh  escaping  chapped  lips.  Tousled  locks  sticks  up  in  funny  ways  as  if  it  hadn't  seen  a  brush  in  a  while.  Howard  doesn't  think  he  even  owns  one.

                        Throat  clears  as  eyes  catch  the  Russian  pouring  another  drink  into  glassware,  old  and  prewar.  He's  surprised  it's  lasted  this  long.  The action  doesn't  go  unappreciated  for  long,  even  if  the  silence  between  them  seems  as  if  it  might.

it's  'sweetheart'  that  finally makes  pale  skin  start  to  prickle,  glancing  over  her  shoulder  at  the  man  with  a quick  careen  through  judgmental  eyes.  mindfully,  however,  she  must  realize  it  was  only  in  gratitude  and  nothing  personal.  just  an  old  man  whose  energy can  sometimes  feel  overwhelming.

muscles  become  pendulous  once  @bottlecapping  speaks  their  mother  tongue,  sighing  as  she  takes  a  few  curious  steps  closer.  the  term  scheme  with  vadim  doesn't  settle  well  over  her  bones,  raising  her  chin  up  whilst  slightly  grimacing  to  cross  an  arm  with  the  other  and  deliberate.

Accusatory sounding Vadim -> one diam city security guard Jill ignoring the mayor's memo about Letting Missing Persons Go ,

Jill’s head whips around so fast that her helmet clacks a little against her skull. Eyes are wide and fuck, she moves back from the door she had just been testing the knob on. The unusedlockpicking tools slip up into the arm guards, no harm no foul, right? Maybe he hadn’t seen it, was this the drunk brother?

" sure, you didn't, craig. " she said with a roll of her eyes; carla always feels so strongly about a variety of things, &. she is quick to voice her dismay on something. they've been married for barely a month &. boone is mentioning to her about moving to someplace called novac.

with the big dinosaur? she can already imagine how much seeing that thing every day will piss her off.

she can feel tension building in her shoulders as she mules over boone's previous statement, something along the lines of her just needing to get used to the idea. " i don't need to get used to- " she does air quotes, " anything! what is even in novac besides sand &. that fucking dinosaur? "

His head perks up, curious at the question. Was it really that obvious? Was his stomach growling that loudly? Austen thought only he could hear it, but he had been wrong before. He swallowed, eyes scanning the room as if this was some sort of prank before they fell on Vadim.

Amiee sat beside the campfire, the sound of sizzling molerat meat filling the mildly awkward air between her and her new companion.

Not that she had any issues with the man, she had bought his contract after all. It was just...well.

If she thought about it too hard though, she could still feel the flecks of blood on her face from when the ghoul blasted his former employer to Kingdom Come.

Was Ahzrukhal that bad of a person? Well. Probably. He did want her to kill that sweet ghoul lady...she was glad she didn't. Sure it took a long time to get the caps but getting the contract was the honest way.

But...what if he did that to every former employer? Ahzrukhal would have known that right? But maybe it's not in the contract, just something Charon does? She should just ask him she supposed but...that'd be extremely rude.

Heck.

"...S-So..." She finally spoke, her chronic stutter coming through as clear as ever. "...Do you...uh. Have any hobbies?"

Jill's helmet and mask were on the solid ground as the ranger was squatted in the freshly dug grave. "Thank you, Charon." Her voice is loud enough to be heard, less harsh around the edges than when they started traveling.