*he chuckles softly* yeah.. *he falls over in his seat with a soft ‘oof’*
Max? Max, talk to me, buddy. Are you still awake? *Carlos had to keep his eyes on the road, but he kept glancing at the rear-view mirror hoping to see Max sit up again.*
Carlos made it to the workshop without incident. He supposed
everybody knew Hancock’s business was Hancock’s business. Once inside he
gathered up the blankets and some of the work cloths and started to make a sort
of bed in the corner. He’d been meaning to get a cot in there for when he
worked longer nights… he wished he’d done it already, but this would have to
do.
Carlos lay down and curled in on himself underneath his
labcoat. He spent a long time awake, just angry and unhappy with himself. There
were so many things he should have done… He should have done so much better.
Outside he could hear someone shouting. Some drifter being
thrown out of the Third Rail by Ham. Even further away there was gunfire –
probably from the Supermutant encampment. Carlos didn’t know when he fell asleep.
When Hancock woke the next morning, stiff and sore, he was disappointed to find he was still alone. Despite everything, how badly he’d screwed up, how upset Carlos had seemed, a part of him had still expected the other man to return. With a shaky sigh, the ghoul picked himself up of the floor, straightening his clothes out and composing himself enough to walk across the hall without drawing too much attention.
Back in his lounge, Hancock ordered the Watchmen outside not to let anyone but the scientist in then shut the doors behind him. Back in the privacy of his room–– and the bulk of his stash–– the ghoul broke into the chems again, dosing himself with a cocktail of drugs to keep his nerves at bay for a while then taking up a spot on the couch to sit and stare at the ceiling until Carlos came back….. if he came back.
Carlos woke from a dreamless sleep. He didn’t immediately feel any better. In fact, he was very disappointed that what happened last night hadn’t just been a dream. Dammit…
He started to sit up from his little ‘nest’. But suddenly, Carlos froze with a small yelp when his back ached in protest at the movement. Well, that wasn’t going to go away any time soon. His day was just getting better already. He finished sitting up and started to look for his Pip-Boy. But it wasn’t there.
Oh no… he left it in the Statehouse, didn’t he? He couldn’t go back for it. He wasn’t ready to face Hancock. He… he couldn’t. Hancock would see him and he might want to talk about it and Carlos… he just wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. Right now, he was willing to leave his Pip-Boy out of his reach because he was just… he was scared. Besides, who said Hancock even wanted to see him after what happened? Carlos didn’t even want to be with himself.
He needed to work. He needed to do something – feel productive. Show that he was still somewhat useful, despite… despite how hard he fell last night. He got up and ignored the twinge of hunger in his stomach as he started to take apart one of the generators he had to work on and clean the parts.
Carlos quickly wiped at his face before he started to mop up the wet grease on his hand. His hands were shaking and he was trying not to appear too jittery. But with the time it was taking to clean his hands (and make sure Hancock’s beloved coat didn’t accidentally get stained) Carlos was starting to realize how it looked.
“I”m not trying to blow you off,” Carlos told Hancock quickly, still furiously wiping his hands clean. “I am legitimately worried about getting grease on your coat. Because, Han – I want you to know…“ Carlos glanced down at his hands. Eh… good enough.
He tossed the rag down before grabbing Hancock’s head and pulling him in for a hard, but adoring, kiss.
Hancock’s smile was wavering, even as Carlos spoke, he wasn’t entirely sure where this was going and he was afraid of what might happen when he finished. He was still stiff when the other pulled him in, taking a moment to process before responding, slowly relaxing and tentatively reaching out to place his hands on the other man’s hips as they kissed.
Carlos sighed softly through his nose and his hold on
Hancock softened a bit. He hummed, one of his hands sliding down to rest on
Hancock’s shoulder. He adored this man so much. He couldn’t really believe that
Hancock thought he was worth being devoted to, but… well, here they were.
Carlos was just going to have to learn to believe it, won’t he?
*he shifts slightly, looking out the window* I-I’m cold…
Try to stay awake, Max. Talk to me, okay? I’ll get you to a doctor soon and they’ll take care of you.
*he pulls the coat around himself tighter, shaking softly* i don’t th-the doctors…
What is it, Max? What do you want me to tell them?
tell ‘em to be less.. weird and creepy…
Weird and creepy…? *starts the car and starts driving*
*he nods, glancing at Carlos*
What exactly do you mean, Max? How are they being weird?
*he looks out the window again, mumbling something about ‘scary’*
I’ll be with you, Max, I promise. I’ll take care of you.
*he hesitantly nods* o-okay..
Keep talking to me, Max. We’re almost there.
h-how close are we..? *he shifts again*
Almost there. What do you like to do, Max? What do you like to read, or watch? *they weren’t actually as close as he’d like but he wanted to keep Max busy*
*he shakes his head slightly* i-i don’t watch or r-read alot of stuff.. mostly just vines.. b-but i like drawing i guess..
Okay. What did you draw recently? Can you tell me about that? *just five more minutes.*
t-the shadows.. things from m-my nightmares dreams…i-i don’t remember what else
You drew me recently, didn’t you? That was very nice of you. I like that picture. I still have it in my tent, safe.
The key wasn’t in the lounge area. Where the hell could it
be? Carlos was getting frustrated as he opened drawers only to find drug paraphernalia.
He was getting frustrated with himself and he coughed, trying to suppress
another fit of sobbing. Carlos sniffed.
This was fine. It would be fine. He could just head to the
attic and find a nice corner. Maybe the other drifters wouldn’t bother him…
No, that was stupid and he knew it. Any sign of weakness
shown to complete strangers and he was opening himself up to getting assaulted and
mugged – even if he didn’t have anything on him. As much as he thought he
deserved it… some part of him knew that he’d regret it in the future. Either
that, or it was scared. Yeah, sounded about right… too scared to face
consequences.
A fleeting thought went through Carlos’ head and, following
it, he patted at his pockets. He realized that below the lump the underwear
made in his pocket he felt something hard. Carlos scoffed, unhappy with the
discovery, and reached in to pull out the key. It was in his pocket the whole
damn time. He must’ve looked like a pathetic idiot with how he’d been looking for it.
Carlos groaned and scrubbed at his face hard with his hands.
Keep it together… just keep it together until he could find safety in his… the workshop. He’d deal with everything
tomorrow. He left the room and went down the spiral staircase. He realized that
Neighborhood Watch was looking at him, but he kept his head down and willed for
them not to talk to him or ask him anything.
Once it became obvious Carlos wasn’t coming back, Hancock gave in to his urges completely, going through every chem stashed in his room that he thought might help him calm down, along with a second bottle of whiskey. Eventually, the ghoul ended up slumped in the corner, head hanging low and bottle still in hand as he drifted off.
Carlos made it to the workshop without incident. He supposed
everybody knew Hancock’s business was Hancock’s business. Once inside he
gathered up the blankets and some of the work cloths and started to make a sort
of bed in the corner. He’d been meaning to get a cot in there for when he
worked longer nights… he wished he’d done it already, but this would have to
do.
Carlos lay down and curled in on himself underneath his
labcoat. He spent a long time awake, just angry and unhappy with himself. There
were so many things he should have done… He should have done so much better.
Outside he could hear someone shouting. Some drifter being
thrown out of the Third Rail by Ham. Even further away there was gunfire –
probably from the Supermutant encampment. Carlos didn’t know when he fell asleep.
The key wasn’t in the lounge area. Where the hell could it
be? Carlos was getting frustrated as he opened drawers only to find drug paraphernalia.
He was getting frustrated with himself and he coughed, trying to suppress
another fit of sobbing. Carlos sniffed.
This was fine. It would be fine. He could just head to the
attic and find a nice corner. Maybe the other drifters wouldn’t bother him…
No, that was stupid and he knew it. Any sign of weakness
shown to complete strangers and he was opening himself up to getting assaulted and
mugged – even if he didn’t have anything on him. As much as he thought he
deserved it… some part of him knew that he’d regret it in the future. Either
that, or it was scared. Yeah, sounded about right… too scared to face
consequences.
A fleeting thought went through Carlos’ head and, following
it, he patted at his pockets. He realized that below the lump the underwear
made in his pocket he felt something hard. Carlos scoffed, unhappy with the
discovery, and reached in to pull out the key. It was in his pocket the whole
damn time. He must’ve looked like a pathetic idiot with how he’d been looking for it.
Carlos groaned and scrubbed at his face hard with his hands.
Keep it together… just keep it together until he could find safety in his… the workshop. He’d deal with everything
tomorrow. He left the room and went down the spiral staircase. He realized that
Neighborhood Watch was looking at him, but he kept his head down and willed for
them not to talk to him or ask him anything.
Carlos jumped in shock and he stared incredulously at the masked man. “Dude, what the f@$*??“ he asked. “I don’t know who Kate Spade is!” Who the hell – who let this maniac into the bar?? “And I don’t know who would even want to walk a day in Peewee Herman’s shoes.”
Carlos swallowed and scoot his chair away, turning toward the other man defensively. He tried to relax – he couldn’t freak out.
“Look, uh, I’m sorry you’ve had a sh*t day yourself,” he said as carefully as he could. “Uh, but I don’t think property-damage is the answer. I mean, heh… what could a poor little glass have done?” Has someone called the police? He hoped so.
Wade was far more used to that sort of reaction than he probably should be. The screams, the choice words. Neither of those ever really fazed him. So he continued with his finger still held tight to the trigger. Scouting for a target. And at last, he found one. Swiftly knocking the frame from the wall and shattering the glass portrait with a single bullet.
"Was. She kicked the bucket an’ did the slow dance with death, Buzz Killington. Don’t tell me it’s too soon, neither. Been about a week since you first got hit with that truth bomb. Lazy hackin’ writer.“
As the poor guy tried scooting away, Wade slowed the chair to a halt by using his foot as a barricade. Returning the sap’s attempted retreat with a scowl prominent enough to be seen from beneath his mask.
“Nuh-uh, Nells. I don’t like back talk after being swindled out of a hefty 70 grand. So what’s say you line up a few shots to look like Russell Brand, and I’ll Jackson Pollock my own No. 5 outta glass instead of your epidermis.”
‘Writer’? Was Kate Spade a book character? Carlos had no
idea – none at all. “Uh… um… okay.”
Carlos froze in place when he realized his chair wasn’t
going anywhere. He stayed facing the man however, not wanting to let any action
he made go unnoticed. While looking Carlos got an eyeful of just how visually dangerous he appeared to be – the weapons,
the athletic build, the mystery pouches… definitely not a costume. This guy,
whatever he did, was clearly not just some Mandalorian Merc cosplayer, like
Carlos initially thought. God, if only it was a Mandalorian…
“I, uh… shots as in… drinking? Or did you want to continue
with your, um… target practice? B-because, uh… well, I- I’ll help with either.
Whatever you need.” So long as a bullet didn’t hit him. Also, who used people’s names as verbs? He had no idea what the man meant!
Carlos hoped he didn’t have to actually mix drinks – A: he didn’t work here, and B: he was atrocious with
anything to do with anything edible. Chemistry degree or not, he couldn’t prepare
food or drink for the life of him!
Open up a bottle and pour it into a glass though, he could do.
“Well, you have to stay because I’m staying here,” Carlos said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, it’ll be fun – there’s loads of activities here – I’m sure you’ll find something to like!”
“I’ll be nice, it’s not like I don’t have manners, Carlos,” The girl grumbled as she lugged her suitcase behind her. “I wasn’t raised in a barn.”
“Really? It’s hard to tell with all the griping you’ve been doing since you got here,” Carlos told her smartly. He closed the door behind her. “Go ahead and leave the suitcase by the door.”
I mean, we got filtered water, the camp ain’t that shitty.
*Carlos just looks at him. He grabs the bags and thanks the clerk* Let’s go. You still have that funnel?
*max patted the front of his pocket* yeah.
Awesome. So, we need to think of a quick-release system, because the reaction will be almost instant. I say… put a paper or a stick at the bottom of the funnel, then load the neck with the Mentos. We position it over the bottle and remove the paper so they all drop almost immediately one after another.
That won’t be hard.
Alright. *he offers Max the bag of candy* Here – I need to get my keys.
I mean, we got filtered water, the camp ain’t that shitty.
*Carlos just looks at him. He grabs the bags and thanks the clerk* Let’s go. You still have that funnel?
*max patted the front of his pocket* yeah.
Awesome. So, we need to think of a quick-release system, because the reaction will be almost instant. I say… put a paper or a stick at the bottom of the funnel, then load the neck with the Mentos. We position it over the bottle and remove the paper so they all drop almost immediately one after another.
The Perfect Scientist 