#vaultfreed

years ago, this encounter would have gone much differently. she'd have been more amenable, more compliant. less willing to level a pistol at someone. years ago.

sheila had been scavenging through the long since ransacked hospital, trying to find whatever meager remnants that may have been overlooked. she thought she had the place to herself, but the crunch of glass underfoot out in the hallway and the click of a pistol quickly shattered that illusion.

whipping around with laser gun in hand, the fusion cell whining within the weapon as it was primed cut through the tense silence before she spoke, her voice soft... uncertain.

her gun is lofted and she's eying the stranger closely, searching for any sign that he's going to shoot first. she can see the pip-boy on his wrist and it does catch her interest, but the growling super mutants and the pounding boots of raiders cause her to bite her tongue. interrogation can come later. right now, safety is her primary concern.

when he bolts, she follows closely behind. she doesn't pause to shoot behind her nor does she shoot the figure in front of her. green-blue eyes shift over to the man when he speaks, head bobbing in a sharp nod. "you haven't given me a reason to." and it was the truth. he could have shot her when they were having their standoff. he could have barred the door and left her to the mercy of mutants and raiders. but he didn't and that counts for something in her book.

she moves over to one of the dusty windows, carefully angling herself so that she could see out of a clearer spot but not be immediately noticed from those outside. "...they look to be passing us. looks like we may skip the gunfight after all." she stays where she is but looks back at the man. "name's sam. it's been a while since i've looked down the barrel of a gun and the person holding it hasn't attempted to shoot me. what vault are you from?" eyes flick to the pip-boy on his wrist, then back at his face.

the bar is loud and crowded, voices ringing out above whatever shitty modern country song was playing on the jukebox. drinks are being poured by the bartenders and knocked over by some of the drunker patrons. it wasn't edie's usual scene, but the emptiness and the loneliness within her had become too much. it'd driven her out of her current residence, desperate for something to distract from the memories echoing in her skull. 

she passes nate a bowl of the brahmin meat stew she'd prepared for the occupants of the small settlement she and her people had stopped in for a few days on their journey back to diamond city.

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she can't sleep, not in this storm. it rarely so much as rained in d.c., but boston's weather is fickle and ferocious. eliana leans against the wall, her eyes drifting over to nate every so often. she knows intimately well the sort of emptiness that chases him down, and knows just as well that he can keep running, but, one day, whatever his strength, his legs will give out. she listens to him, but it's not until he asks the question that she straightens, her brows furrowing.

“  what, you think you'd scare me off? ” she asks.  “ it's nothing i wouldn't have done, if i were you. ” she pulls her knees to her chest, her eyes drifting to her pip-boy, taking note of the late hour, then checking her geiger counter. last thing she needs is radiation sickness from this damn storm.  “ and i've seen worse for much less. ”

it scared her, a little, in the way it always does to be reminded that even the good, gentle people she meets have something more cruel boiling beneath the surface, but she can't judge nate. that sort of loss ... how do you not seek revenge, however gruesome it appears?

 “ do you feel better? ” she asks, morbid curiosity getting the best of her. she doubts it. she thought she would feel some sense of closure and relief when she destroyed the enclave, but it never came. her dad was still dead. nothing she did changed that.  “ probably not, right? revenge is never as satisfying as the movies made it seem. ”