Raul Alfonso Tejada

                    ❝  ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒  Eh,      maybe    not,      but    I    got    all    my    own    hair.  ❞        It  was  a  point  of  personal  pride,    as  a  matter  of  fact,      &    one  he  was  more  than  happy  to  flaunt  in  the  faces  of  other  ghouls.    Even  with  the  radiation  poisoning  that  made  him  this  way,    he’d  tended  to  it  like  it  was  his  sole  possession    (    it  almost  was,    but  for  the  ring    ).

                          ❝  Anyway,    you  had  the  look  of  somebody  who  quit  caring,    you  know  what  I  mean  ?    Somebody  who  wouldn’t  be  able  to  muster  up  th’    gumption  to  come  after  a  thief  even  if  you  knew  it  was  me  that  got  you.      &    frankly,    I’m  still  surprised  you  did  know.    It’s  been  a  long  time  since  I  had  t;    stoop  to  picking  pockets,    but  I’m  not  terrible  at  it  or  anything.  ❞        

                            Still,    he  shrugged  it  off  rather  than  letting  it  get  to  him.    Sometimes  you  meet  a  guy  who’s  just  better  than  you  are,    especially  when  it  comes  to  shit  you  don’t  practice  as  much.    Nothing  to  get  hung  up  on.    It’s  a  lesson  that  he  needed  to  get  taught.    At  least  he  got  to  learn  it  without  getting  fucked  up  by  the  guy.

He could hardly blame the man’s pride in his hair. Raul tended to do the same with what was left of his eyebrows and mustache. If he could grow it any thicker, he would. He’d let the comment pass, for now.

“No, you’re not terrible at it. I’ll give you that,” he replied. He was finished with the work on the pipes, and to test it, he turned the sink on, then off, then on again. Seemed to be working okay.

                          ❝  ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒  Pistols,    handguns  .  .  .    one  —  handed  guns,  ❞        Twig  answered.    He  didn’t  make  an  effort  to  try  to  sound  smart  to  impress  Raul    (    which  he  doubted  he  could  anyway    ),    just  answered  honestly  as  best  he  could.        ❝  I  really  don’t  have  much  experience  with  like,    rifles  or  shotguns.    But  I  can  hit  any  target  with  my  V.A.T.S.  ❞

                              So  saying,    the  courier  held  up  the  hand  with  the  Pip  —  Boy    &    tapped  the  screen  with  two  fingers.    The  guidance  system  made  it  a  breeze  for  him  to  find  his  mark  in  spite  of  his  very  limited  time  up  on  the  surface.    which  was  a  huge  help  considering  how  much  he  totally  hadn’t  been  trained  before  leaving  his  vault.    It  could  honestly  be  said  that  he  was  self  —  taught,    which  was  .  .  .    well,    Raul  would  be  a  better  judge  of  whether  that  was  a  good  thing  or  a  bad  thing  than  Twig  ever  would.

                          Speaking  of  which,    he  was  really  excited  to  learn  from  the  ghoul.    Grouchy  or  not,    Twig  had  a  lot  of  respect  for  him.    He  had  his  own  way  of  showing  it,    but  it  was  true  nonetheless.

“VATS huh? Never heard of it. That some kind of vault combat simulator or something?” He asked. He had heard of virtual reality pods that allowed people to do anything in a virtual space, from flying a plane to training for war to playing football. Judging from the context of what the man (or boy, really,) was saying, he’d have to guess that it was something related to that. 

But he was wrong; when the courier held his pip boy up to show him, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t entirely sure how a guidance system would help his aim, but considering he had made it this far, maybe Raul needed a demonstration to see what it was he was talking about.

Guns were not something she thought too much about outside of them being something that she’d always just… grown up with. Maybe it was all information she might’ve known vaguely once upon a time, but as it was right here and right now it was just something else to consider. For feeling like she knew a lot, Six decidedly realized she didn’t at the same time. All the same she passed over her new magnum. She smiled faintly with a touch of pride.

“Works just fine,” she replied with a slight laugh, “While I ain’t got half as much as experience as you do I know my way around fixin’ a gun. I just think it’s neat, and awful pretty to boot – called it the Mysterious Magnum. Don’t roll off the tongue half so well as Lucky does, but all that fancy detail on the side is just as nice.” She paused to study Raul’s face as he looked it over, “You like it?”

For someone who didn’t think too much about guns, it sure seemed to be her favorite topic as of the past thirty minutes. 

Raul scratched the side of his flaking, necrotic face as he was presented the magnum, eyeing it with mild interest. It certainly did have a rather ornate design to it, unique in times like this, where anything that took time to make out of vanity purposes usually didn’t get made at all. Imitation mother-of-pearl handle, steel treated to simulate gunmetal bronze, slightly heavier than the usual .44...

 Before the war, this would have just been an unusually ornate, but overall monetarily worthless, revolver. Now, however, it would probably go for quite a bit of money, like something a casino boss or a ranch baron would have at his hip.

“That’s what I meant,” she amended, “Bein’ the gun you used ‘fore the war. Though don’t seem like that’s the case.” Especially not when he clarified the location being from the Gun Runner’s. His meticulous work was nothing new to her, but still she watched it like it was. There were years of experience in the way he handled his weapon. Maybe it was just because she enjoyed standing back and observing, feeling separate from the world in watching little moments like this.

“A cowboy gave me his gun on the road,” she replied, pulling out the magnum she’d been gifted to show Raul. “Right before I met you, actually. He played the guitar and sang, so I sent ‘im off to the Tops. D’you wanna see?”

“No boss, with how much I actually have to use my guns, I don’t think I could keep them maintained well enough for use that long. I may be a good repairman, but I’m not a miracle worker.” He had to think that maybe the longest time on record he had kept a single gun around in good working order had been... maybe fifty years, tops.

“If you do see someone using an actual pre-war gun, it’s probably because it was kept in a steady-tempered safe for so long. Like I said, most people have already found ways to replicate the guns before the war-- Van Graffs and Gun Runners are to name a few, most of their stuff is new, but based on pre-war blueprint models. You’ve been scavenging before, most of the weapons you find lying around are usually only good for taking the parts out of to repair newer weapons.”

When the subject changed from his own gun to another she obtained from some mysterious cowboy, he quirked a brow and gave a one-shouldered shrug of indifference.

“Whoa hey whoa--! Watch where you’re pointing that thing, soldier boy!” The raised volume in Raul’s voice displayed anger, but his body language of holding his hands up showed alarm. 

Having a gun pointed at you wasn’t something to take lightly, but it was even more alarming to have the other end of the barrel be one of your own comrades.