Know When to Fold 'Em (Closed for Obuzeti)

[Obuzeti]

"Sunny's alright," Moray opines, which is grounds for canonization by any other standard. "Seen her dog - shepherd breed, pretty standard. It's mostly good for tracking. At least it reliably does something useful."

Hrolf, off investigating a dead gecko and apparently contemplating the possibilities of a morning snack, is unconcerned with this appraisal.

Chet's general store is more aimed at wasters and settlers than Moray's kind of folk, and it takes about eight seconds after the big man walks in for that resignation to settle over his features. "I know you don't have any kind of rifle worth spitting on," he says. "Just give me a 10 millimeter."

Chet himself has gone pale as fuck. "Not givin' you nothin'," he says, sweating furiously.

"I'm going to pay for it," Moray says, impatiently.

"Oh! Oh. That's fine then," Chet says, cheering up a little, though he conspicuously stays as far on the other side of the counter as possible, and when he grabs the dinky pistol leaves it on the bar for Moray to pick up. He's almost hiding behind the cash register he salvaged somewhere.

Moray rolls his eyes. "There was a Powder Ganger bunch running around through here awhile ago," he explains in an aside to Kara. "One of them was in here. Chet's been queasy since."

"You walked in and shot him three times before the door swung shut," Chet says, defensively. "How's a man supposed to take that?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Kara bristles, the bridge of her nose crinkling and the slight puffed, pursed pout of her scowl on her lips as the red head takes 'great' offense. "Hrolf is a BIG dog." He was the best fur baby, and Kara loved him unconditionally. "And his OWN dog." She continued with fond approval.

"Cheyenne's a good dog too. Sunny's never let me borrow her though." Kara sighed. "Said she's too vital to the town's security."

Oh well. Not everybody was into loaning out their dogs. Kara probably wouldn't be.

Into the ramshackle general store they went. Kara takes a mild interest in the rusty bear trap on the wall-and then casts the store owner a surprised glance with a raised brow. He thought they were gonna ROB the place?

...and he was brave enough to refuse? Kara immediately finds his cowering bravery hilarious. What was his name again? Moray uses it in explaination. Oh, Chet. Right.

"What, he robbin' you or somethin'? Maybe after they all freshly escaped?" There had been that big prison break. It was where her 'renters' had come from.

Before the door swung shut! Snrk.

"Well I commend you for still wanting Moray to pay for shit after that." Kara is amused, laughter in her tone. "And I bet his buddies opted not to try an' roll Good Springs with a story like that so maybe your hero should get a discount."

And then a LOUD, rusty metal snap-and Kara's wide eyed looking at the bear trap she'd been dicking around with, one hand still up and having CLEARLY just been jerked back.

"Huh, still works!"

And then Kara turns happily on her heel and breezed out of the place for the long awaited bar next door.

-*-

"Bartender!". Kara calls as soon as she bursts into the bar, gleeful. "Buy a round for the whole place!"

The woman behind the bar took in the smirking, cocky woman striding up and plunking down at her bar. "Kara.". She greeted, deadpan. "You're the only one here.". And an empty gesture at the empty, quiet bar.

"What, not going to drink with me? Ouch. Here I am trying to buy you a drink even!". Always amused, Kara tapped some caps on the countertop. "Something that burns going down, please."

 

[Obuzeti]

Chet watches Kara leave, then looks back to Moray. His bottom lip trembles. "Did he have any friends left, after -"

"No," Moray says, calm. "Contract was for the whole bunch. Got four of them in town and rolled up another seven at their little camp out in the gecko cave. I don't skimp on a job."

Chet gives him the discount.

~*~​

Moray ambles in after Kara and seats himself beside her, glancing at her already getting drunk with an amused smile. The empty saloon and promise of a good drink puts a little ease back in his step, and he stops looking like someone shit in his coffee that morning. "Glad to see your priorities are in order. I'll take that round if you don't mind it, Sarah."

"You're back in town early," she greets, already pouring him a bourbon. "Didn't know there was anything nearby needed killin'."

"There isn't," Moray replies, and takes a sip of the smooth alcohol with an appreciative hum. "I'm on down time, I suppose. With this one."

Sarah glances between the two of them - nods - and then gives Kara a thumbs up.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"A vacation!" Kara elaborates, pouring herself another shot. She likes when he smiles at her. Enough that she even tones down her usual bored antics-because she -wasn't- bored.

Oh whoa, that was weird.

"And see? Me wanting to buy the whole place a round brought you a customer!" Side by side on the stools and given Moray's muscled broadness, it's an easy task to lean in and bump his arm with a grin before sitting straight again. She downs her shot. "Jus' wait, place'll have forty drunk revelers any minute."

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Please don't fill my bar full of vagrants and whoever else you're half thinking about dredging up. Again."

"That was hilarious and you know it.". Kara pours a third shot, mostly to watch the amber liquid slosh.

"They knocked out a wall." Sarah says to Moray with a flat but disbelieving tone, a raised brow as if to say 'you really getting into this crazy?' But like most people, the bar owner liked Kara. Much as she'd been vexed by her at the time.

"Well, place needed the remodeling anyway. New patch looks good." It had been a while ago now, but Kara remembers-its also apparently obvious, as the weathered boards on the far wall still had scrap metal bolted over the hole some drunk had made after taking a tumble.

She takes the third shot and let's it settle a minute, an absent feeling of contentment prevailing over the buzz. Light complected as she was, the slight bit of red to her cheeks was readily apparent-amd at her size, it didn't take much. Still, she was no novice to the stuff.

 

[Obuzeti]

"Better than what happened to me," Moray replies, easygoing now that he's been liquored up and the day's required interactions with other humans is over. Except for Kara, of course. Her quick laughter and red hair keeps catching his eye, and he just gives it up and leans on the opposite arm so he can watch her. "She blew me up with a fusion core. I was red all over like a lobster for awhile."

"Aren't those, like, miniature nukes?" Sarah says dubiously.

"Granted, I wasn't right on top of it," Moray allows. "That was the Brotherhood guy."

There's something nice about this. Sarah ain't any Beatrice, but she can mind her own business, does that business decently, and she serves fresh alcohol instead of whatever the hell's survived in the bondage bag for two centuries. With Kara there to ease up the conversation, it feels almost casual, which is a thing he has never managed at any time, anywhere. Fear is his usual medium.

This pulls at him less.

He takes a sip and then cocks a brow at Kara. "You make it sound like you piddled around a lot out here. I figured you'd stay where there's marks to swindle."

The swinging door of the saloon bumps wide, nosed open by Hrolf. Sarah freezes as soon as he comes in, recognizing the legion breed, and draws a breath when neither of the other jump up. "Jesus, Moray, where'd you pick up that thing? Like an ox in a fur coat. Must be waist-high on my short ass."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"To be fair-". Kara says, vaguely glad he wasn't holding that against her. She doesn't find it funny for once, somehow.

"I wasn't really thinking too far beyond 'fuck yeah, stealth bomb' when I taped all that shit together and threw it on the walkway." It had certainly ruined the slaver scribe's day though. Kara absently rubs the side of her head where she'd been knocked into the pipes, and considers the list her new partner had given the doctor.

Yeah...she better try and be more careful. But hey! They'd made it through just fine.

"And mister hoighty toighty Brotherhood asshat definitely wasn't expecting THAT big a boom anymore than I was!" That part was funny. She had bbq'd the bastard inside his tin can suit AFTER stealing his gun.

Ahhh good times. She takes an impressively large swig out of the -bottle-this time, capping it off with her shot glass-spending several seconds carefully balancing it center. Ah...perfect.

"I like it out here.". She says with a smirking shrug. "Just cause I COULD make a living hustling cards don't mean I want to." Kara grins. "That'd be too easy. Hell, I don't even cheat most the time.". She moves a hand to tap at her lucky pins, but she's not wearing her jacket. It makes her laugh. She doesn't need -pins- to be lucky at cards.

"But nah-I roam all over. Too ADD to keep to a schedule, but I get around as much as you do, just with less work and more...crawling through places I shouldn't be." Something Kara clearly took great pleasure in-she's lit up and mirthful, genuinely and plainly happy. "But I like all the open out here sometimes, when I gotta recharge a minute."

"And Sunny has a dog." Sarah cuts in to explain dryly before the door opens-and Kara's lost to both of them in her instant and immediate glee.

"Look, another customer!". She slides off her stool-and steadies herself on the counter a minute as the booze immediately hits her all at once. She blinks at Moray-then grins at him again. Yep-good stuff.

But she can't believe he had come in here! Hrolf in a bar!

"Hrolf is his own dog-he picked -Moray- up." Kara continues this thread with no small amount of amusement. "Gave him a job and everything." Oh God, that's not even a stretch. Hrolf HAD given Moray a job-and then gotten paid for it.

This dog was a scam artist to rival her own brand of bullshit, and he can't even talk.

Amazing! Such a smart dog.

Kara's a small woman herself and indeed-Hrolf comes up to her flat stomach, easy-and is flat out taller than her when she drops on down to her knees, pert bottom between each of her booted feet and her knees splayed out to sink even further to his level. She wants to pet him so bad.

"Hrolf will take one bowl of purified water, please-he swore off the strong stuff months ago."

She wonders if he ate any geckos out there. Things might be salty, she doesn't know. "He also asks you pass on his regards to Cheyenne."

 

[Obuzeti]

"I wonder if that's what they were thinking when they launched all the nukes?" Moray wonders absently. "'Fuck yeah, explosions!', for the half an hour before the world exploded. To your credit, Kara, you threw it at the guy I wasn't standing beside. Kudos."

The word 'kudos' out of Moray is just fucking alien.

He's mildly buzzed now, which is as far as he ever lets it go, but Kara is working on some real lubrication there - she's already wobbling, and on the floor trying to play with the dog, what the hell. He almost gives Sarah an unimpressed look, but he's too busy watching the Courier's ass stretch those shorts - the one stocking-clad leg doesn't hurt either. He's not precisely sure of what to make of the faint heat, but decides to just let it play out.

Sarah's giving him a look when he turns back to take a sip of his drink. He shrugs. "You just pick up all the strays, then?" she says, amused, and doesn't bother to direct it at either one of them. Hrolf pads about a foot closer, still two full body lengths away from Kara, and then sniffs the air. The scent of alcohol wrinkles his nose, and instead he starts sniffing around the corners of the room, in pursuit of the faint dog hairs he can scent around the floor.

"There are certain prerequisites involved," Moray says, and touches Kara's shoulder to steady her - or just because he wants to touch her. That's a blurred line, especially with the tank top leaving her shoulders bare. Her skin is warm under his fingers, and he doesn't quite muster the will to pull back.

"I'm certain," Sarah replies, with a laugh. "Hon, get up off that floor, I haven't mopped in weeks and all sorts of stuff gets spilled there."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"It's my expert histor-I-cal opinion-somebody pressed a shiny button by mistake."
Snrk. "And well yeah, the robot didn't interrupt me."

She doesn't even really hear what's said about strays, busy trying to will Hrolf to come accept ear scratches-but he doesn't like something and goes to sniff in the corners instead. Dang.

"I'm gonna get to pet 'im." She resolves with conviction and confidence, spine straightening from her slump-which makes the floor tip some in an amusing way before there's a steadying hand on her shoulder. Kara absently and companionably pats it, still half talking to herself "I jus' gotta be patient." A long pause. "And maybe smell like bacon...?"

"One of those you can probably pull off." Sarah says with a slight shake of her head.

As for the floor-"I've got a knee pad." Kara says, shifting to tap it against the floor twice. "And a whole pantleg on the other."

"I -know- you make enough caps to afford pants that aren't taped up on one side and flat missing on the other."

Kara looks down to consider the article of clothing, drumming the fingers of her free hand on one toned thigh. "See, this leg just gets too hot." Kara says, an amused smirk. She reaches across her chest to touch the other one. "And this one gets too cold." She clearly finds her explanation infinitely amusing stifling laughter.

"Hell." Kara says, suddenly remembering. "I burned my vault suit half up too-ain't enough tape for that." She grasps the large hand on her shoulder and stands up while turning, considers trying to dance but not actually knowing how gives it up. She'll make up dance moves later, she has a whole jukebox.

"Alright, guess I won't drink anybody under the table, then." She says with a laugh as she pats her pockets, withdraws a few prewar bills and one, then TWO handfuls of caps to place on the counter. She slides them forward as if they were Sarah's poker winnings.

"Catch ya some other time, lady."

 

[Obuzeti]

"I'd argue both legs stay pretty hot," Moray murmurs, and steps forward to help Kara stay on her feet, "But that's a layman's opinion."

The alcohol's in his blood now, and it's keeping him warm inside, enough to consider things he normally wouldn't, but Sarah's laughing eyes on his back keep him from acting on any of them. Best to get them both home before at least one of them embarrasses themselves. His hand slides down to Kara's back as she pays, and thereafter drops away, though he stays close enough that their shoulders occasionally brush on the walk back to their Vault.

(ain't that a strange sentence?)

"Productive day," he says, brushing his new pistol's butt where it's holstered at his hip, opposite that ugly shotgun. They pass through the slim cave entrance to the Vault door, and he gestures for Kara to plug in the sequence to open the door - he hadn't memorized it, last they visited. "Guns and medicine acquired, liquor drunk, natives taunted, home before dark. Hard to complain about anything in that sequence."

Despite himself, with the warmth of the setting sun at their backs, the prospect of home near, and the smooth buzz of bourbon in his belly, Jonah's just - content isn't a word for it. More than just satiated, or reassured. It's steady like ground underneath his feet, certainty in a promise of tomorrow.

Moray reels in Kara with an arm, pulling her back to his chest, and drapes his arms over her shoulders for a moment - a loose hug that he holds her in for a moment, her slight frame under his, Jonah's chin rested lightly in that red hair.

It's good.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Their shoulders brush twice before Kara takes his whole arm just because, a soft laugh because maybe that’s weird. Fuck it, she don’t care. Every time he touches her it’s just that, all tame and nice and shit and she half can’t believe he could be so gentle. There was some kind of just...wholesomeness to this whole thing.

It’s new. It’s nice. It’s hella ironic.

“See, vacation.” Kara is saying. “Even vacationed from pullin’ some kind of prank. But maybe the real joke is everybody looking real careful to see if I did pull something.” The idea was amusing. Sometimes her mischief could be as simple and harmless as an upturned painting. Other times, it was tarred and feathered protectrons firing bubble guns. She almost wants to ask him about that. Was half dying, had BEEN dying to know what his reaction had been. Probably just annoyance. Maybe homicidal annoyance.

But if she asked, then he’d know it was her for sure, and that’d remove part of the hilarity-that maybe someday, she can outrageously pretend to have no idea what he was talking about, that ANYBODY could have tarred and feathered a robot and refitted it with bubble wands.

Hrolf is following along out at the side and Kara smiles at him happily. She’s going to get to pet that dog.

She shows him the passcode and a way to perform the shorting trick without her unique little gloves-and when he pulls her back against him, laughs a little, a hand coming up to wrap around the arm while the other sneaks up to his face, a sigh. “Probably the most fun I had in a day without some sort of ruckus.” She remembers how boring sneaking around Sierra Madre had seemed in comparison to trouncing around with Moray, and considers the nothingness of today and how she hadn’t felt...bored. Hadn’t tinkered with anything, hadn’t explored anything, didn’t cause any havoc-and that had been just fine for today. She just...likes his company.

She tips her head back to look at him, favors him with one of those genuine little smiles of hers. “I thought maybe you might be secret, under there.” Kara says, her blue eyes narrowing a fraction. He’s so warm. She’s more than a little intoxicated, but sometimes that’s when she did her best, most undistracted, thinking.

Not as secret as he’d turned out, though.

She wants to hold him again. Protect him from all the...well all the things out there, she guesses. People like her and people not like her and things that just weren’t any good that could creep up from inside of you.

Were sackcloths and ashes more meaningful when they were just cause or when they were for fear of smiting? What if you refused them altogether, but did the right things anyway?

These are not questions to be asking when everything’s so warm and happy and nice. She doesn’t want to send him back to that place, to the ‘things’ he thought she should know.

Just him though. She only wants him to stay, no one else.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah's head tilts down and curls in, so he can brush a kiss across Kara's lips. The dimness of the Vault entrance feels intimate, and he holds that embrace for a long moment, then pulls back up so he doesn't put a crick in his own neck. "If it's secret," he says, and lifts her as easily as he would a log, carrying the slight woman in his arms, "Then it was a secret to me too, before all this. I'm learning about things I didn't know I had."

He carries Kara across the threshold, with a faint smirk shot her way, and then sets her down on the other side as Hrolf trots by, heading into the depths of the Vault for wherever he hides out while they're here. The door seals behind them, and he just looks at this woman for a moment as the racket dies down.

"Come on," he says, and turns to where he'd stashed his locker full of books. "I have something you should read - it'll appeal to your sense of humor. It's a very old book called Catch-22."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Probably because I’m a bad influence. Just the worst.” He’s carting her around like it’s nothing, and it’s a fun ride, everything tilting this way and that in an amusing, interesting way-should probably be making her dizzy, but it’s not.

“Okay, now I’ll carry you.” Kara says with a push to his chest as he sets her down, the laughter in her eyes and the silver peal of it short but pleasant. Hrolf disappears for doggie adventures and Kara just stands leaning on her much bigger companion, sated for the day.

“I like stories.” Kara says as she follows along behind him, tracing the wall here and there with her fingers. There’s a faint hint of hesitation, her tongue briefly caught between her teeth. “Can read okay but...I dunno, not always?” A laugh but not quite as wholesomely entertained as a moment ago-more darkly amused. When the words are all packed in together and stuff...phonics-she’s not stupid, she COULD read, but-

“If I get a ruler maybe, piece of paper-” Something she could go line by line with. Kara props her hands on her hips and studies the more practical shelves, all the tools and half forgotten projects and storage bins of stuff. She looks extremely confident, capable-a prideful puff to her chest!

And then she exhales with a more genuine laugh, holding onto a shelf while she loosens the laces to one of her boots. “...yep, I am too drunk to remember how that’s organized.”

 

[Obuzeti]

Moray makes a knowing hum. "I realize," he says, a little slowly, "So I was going to offer to - read it to you. If you want. You liked just looking at the books enough that I figured you wanted to know what was in them, just that getting to that would be awkward."

Meanwhile he ushers Kara to a seat on a nearby workbench, pushing her hands away patiently and helping her boots off himself - mostly to take a hidden joy in just how flexible and limber her legs are, especially from this close. She casually bends at angles he'd pull muscles reaching for. Besides, she's drunk. She said so herself.

"No more intensive activity for the day," Jonah lectures with a faint smile; he hides it by ducking his head as he works at the bootlaces. "I'll grab a couple rations, and then we'll crash somewhere for the night. Shoot the shit. Y'know."

The bed's great, but a little cramped. His mind's already whirling with plans for a bigger one that fits them both without Kara half on top of him - not that he minds that, precisely, but it'd be really awkward if he rolled over wrong in the middle of the night and shoved her out of the bed. He could probably rig a couch too without too much in the way of effort.

His life suddenly revolves around how much and how long he can keep this pretty woman to himself. The thought is, briefly, dizzying.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Read it to me?" Kara repeats, briefly kinda soft, surprised. She blinks at the laces she's failing to get unknotted. "That sounds nice."

And then she finds herself plunked down on her workbench, her hands on his shoulders, favorite boots undone and slipped off-knife in the one, the ace of diamonds behind the laces of another.

"I -stole- that card." She says with a wicked curve of a smile. "Right under the dealer's nose." Sure enough-at the closer look, it was from one of the Strip casinos. Why she would do that was anyone's guess. Just an impulse and a joke, it seemed.

"What's the book about?" Already impatient to hear the story-Kara lived for stories. She spun crazy tales all day long but she -lived- for stories, pieces of intangible things nobody could take from you or anyone else-they could only be shared.

 

[Obuzeti]

Moray grabs the book with one hand, tosses it up to Kara, and then picks her up again - why, he doesn't know, he's just inclined to do so now - and watches her pretty feet kick a little as he bears her aloft. "I don't doubt that you stole it," he replies, with a faint chuckle. "You have to take away something from every experience. You can't just leave poorer for having been there."

It feels profound, at least as profound as bourbon-laced wisdom can get.

Down the hall and around the corner they go, to the hidden bedroom at the corner. He sets her down there and seats himself to remove his own boots, scooting back onto the bed after and beckoning her close. "A lot of things. Futility, and the fight for self-preservation. It's about a man in an old war, who wants to run away. The riddle of Catch-22. That the enemy is whoever would cause you to be dead, whoever they are and how it'd happen. And a man who wants to live forever, or die in the attempt."

He smiles a little. His fingers touch the cover.

"A lot of things. Like all good books, and like life."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Exactly. And it was -hilarious- because everyone at the table kept expectin' it to show up, and the guy to my right got madder and madder until he finally flipped out, got exposed fer countin' cards. Jus' like I s'pected, being luckier than me."

Kara's mischevious eyes sparkle. That's why she kept it, it was a totem to a silly, amusing and hilarious (least to her) story.

"I had to leave I was laughing so hard. That's what I -really- stole. That's what I'm -always- stealin'-laughter, amusement, adventure, stories. It ain't gotta be things. When it IS things, it's usually cause it was funny."

Nevermind who got caught in the crosshairs. Luckily most of her antics were harmless, the former raider crazy and often vexing-but surprisingly good natured at heart.

She's set down and sways a little, running a hand through her shiny red hair as she amusedly considers her own intoxication and his buzz-and that they were going to read books.

She likes this. This is nice.

"Him against the world?". That was life, after all. You vs everybody and everything else in this hilarious joke of a stacked game.

'Cept them maybe, now.

She fumbles with and manages to unstrap and drop the kneepad, then climbs into bed fully dressed, gun and all-she's already fully interested in this story, vividly colored eyes attentive, if a little hazy.

"Does he make it?". Already wanting to know how it goes as she curls into him. "Gets away clean?"

 

[Obuzeti]

"Only thing somebody can't take back from you," Jonah comments, aiding Kara up onto the bed with a hand on her shoulder. "Stories and memories. You can carry as many of those as you want."

He pulls Kara back against his chest, and then leans against the wall by the bed, leaning back in a sort of combined slump; her diminutive form enveloped by his. Jonah's arms come down around her shoulders with the book held before both of them, and he cracks it open to the first page - carefully, for they're dogeared and frail by now with age. "That would ruin the suspense, Kara. But yes, he does. He gets away clean."

He cleared his throat, and began: "Yossarian was in the hospital with a pain in his liver that fell just short of being jaundice. The doctors were puzzled by the fact that it wasn't quite jaundice. If it became jaundice they could treat it. If it didn't become jaundice and went away they could discharge him. But this just being short of jaundice all the time confused them . . ."

~*~​

The next day brought a heavy hangover for Kara, who'd drunk several shots and no water, and a mild headache for Moray, who had about twice her body mass and less to drink, to boot. He left her in the dark of their room with a water bottle, closed the door to muffle the incoming sound, and then headed back to the workshop where he finished the patches he'd intended to put on her armor. The reinforced strips ran along her forearms, the back of her knuckles, and along the inside of her wrist (to protect the artery there). The promised claw insets were easy enough, too, but attaching them and making them durable took until well in the afternoon.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"'xactly. Then it's mine forever."

It makes her grin when he answers the question despite it ‘spoiling the suspense’, but Kara only wants to hear the story more, now. “Boy, I wonder how he does it.” She imagines by the end of the vacation, she’d find out.

~*~

The next day was half Kara-less; the red haired mercenary was just about dead to the world, curled in tight in a twist of blankets and passed out harder than ever. When she did wander out, her hair was a mushed and fluffy, alluring mess-and she was muttering about some dumb bimbo buying drinks for the bar but no water-in what was grumpily amusing self depreciation as she finished the rest of the bottle of water and popped some ibuprofen.

She perked up mostly to normal and worked on a few projects of her own-including the blue holo emitter she had pilfered from Sierra Madre. If you were going to make off with anything, might as well make off with a pretty ghost lady. Before they turned in for the night (an unspoken and unanimous decision to continue with the story) she had set the hologram up just inside the vault entrance, a blue light statue immortalizing a starlet long since passed on.

~*~

The next day was some of the same-but at some point Kara wandered off into the vault in search of Hrolf. It’d been a few hours and suspiciously quiet-but woman and dog were just dicking around in a mostly empty hall two levels down, the sound of something striking and bouncing against the metal floor.

Aaaaand there was Kara and Hrolf. She’d somehow convinced or taught him to play fetch. Well, more like retrieval and drop, because the mongrel still wouldn’t come closer than two body lengths away-he just dropped the rope and backed off when Kara went to pick it up and throw it for him again.

She was wearing straight up shorts today with a tank top someone'd splashed paint on at some point. Three guesses as to who. Her calf length boots were on her feet, mismatched thigh high stockings on her legs (one a black fishnet, the other a pink translucent nylon) and both knee pads today. Her knife was in it's boot and Lil Devil in it's holster, nestled in the inside curve of her small waist per the usual.

Her smile was impossibly happy, eyes lit up with almost childish delight.

“Look, we taught each other to play fetch!”

 

[Obuzeti]

The sight is impossibly amusing. Jonah laughs before he can stop it - a bright bark of genuine laughter before he can choke it down into something else. He coughs a moment later, cheeks flushing at the lack of control, but finally just sort of grimaces and lets it go. Uncharacteristic of him, but what does that even mean, anymore? He doesn't want to stay who he's been.

"Well, I'm glad at least one of you here learned something new," he observes, and approaches to offer her a hand up. Hrolf curves around to watch them from the other side of the room, eyes amber and inquisitive. "I really think someday I'm going to walk in and find him on a sled, with you pulling it. The next big snowfall's going to be awful interesting to see."

Not that snow fell often on the Mojave, but he was used to being in other places than just this little corner of the greater Wasteland.

"Feel better than this morning?" he teases gently. "You looked three-quarters corpse when I left. Figured I'd let you sleep in and try to wait some of it out."

The outfit looks good on her, somethiing very casual and light. He's getting to the point where he can't not look at Kara in whatever she's wearing - and this one's tied for most skin, with both stocking'd thighs bare and only a pair of shorts and a tank top keeping her decent. He recognizes, distantly, he might be developing something of a leg fixation the more time he spent watching those stockings slide against her skin.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

And there it was-real, genuine laughter. Laughter he stifles in a hurry, but too late-Kara was irreversibly smitten, now. Smitten, and victorious. She had finally gotten Jonah Moray to laugh in earnest. It was a good, decent theft.

She accepts the hand and pops up easy, grinning wide.

“I would totally pull Hrolf around on a sled.” She says without hesitation. That’d just be too hilarious to pass up. “And ha ha.” A playful shove. “I’ve been worse off than that before, but I’ll definitely try to stay hydrated the next time. That or hair of the dog, but eh, not sure that actually works."

Least she remembered what'd gone down, not that she got blackout drunk really. No fun in not remembering things.

"How 'bout you? Though...you're a bit bigger than me." Yes. Just a bit.

 

[Obuzeti]

Jonah just gives Kara a look. "I mass twice what you do and drank half as much," he deadpans, as he idly draws the woman in for a loose hug and then starts ambling back towards the stairs up. "I'm fine. And no, the hair of the dog doesn't work unless you're a complete alcoholic, which you aren't - it just takes the teeth out of the first stage of withdrawal."

He leads her to the workshop, then gestures at her newly completed armor - it looks much the same, but the arms are thicker and slightly broader, and the overlapping wings of the jacket have been stiffened with ballistic patch strong enough to catch bullets. There's steel tape slipped underneath the fabric of her gloves over each finger, and then the promised knuckle spikes, just two little spurs over each primary knuckle - unobtrusive, but enough to turn each punch into a head-rocking force. Despite the fact he clearly had to take most of the jacket apart to put in the extra material, it actually looks stronger than before - the white material showing through from wear is back to a solid blue in most places.

"That's everything I can do," he says, satisfied. "Reinforced through and through, and to support the extra weight I added another warp thread through the material - that's the blue material you see showing on the outside. That should help it hold for a couple more years, but nothing I can do can repair the original thread. Still not bad, though."

He's a craftsman, it seems - his methodical approach to combat merely a result of his own logical processes from producing craft.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“I’m still growing.” Kara says, as full of it as ever- accepting and returning that hug appreciatively, her soft chest to his hard one. “Any day now I’ll be six feet tall, just you wait.”

That wouldn’t be the first time she’d made some joke to that effect. Another time she had declared herself a ‘giant amongst women’ within his earshot. Jokes about her size were a dime a dozen, even from the woman herself.

They companionably head back up the stairs to see the fruits of his labor. Ahhh her jacket. She loves this jacket. Handing it over to be messed with by somebody else had been hard-but the results were undeniable. Kara picks it up, touching at the material curiously as he talks. It’s heavier for sure, and looked badass as hell. She holds it out at arms length, then lowers it to give him a nod of approval.

“Bitchin’.” She says simply and crassly, slipping it on and giving a testing tug on the front of it. It felt a lot sturdier, durable. Her fingers trace down the blue. He’d done a lot of hard work. “Thank you.” She taps at the pins, delicate fingers lingering on the blank, less faded shield shape, an absent smile before she favors him with a fond one.

“I’ve worn this thing damned near everywhere and have for years. Now’s it’s properly decent instead of just lucky, eh?” She props her hands on her hips. "Looks good on me too."

It does. It does look good on her-less because of the jacket itself (which was two sizes too big and still bearing a rusty pauldron) and more because wearing it somehow only accentuated her lower half-particularly those stocking'd legs, the swathe of exposed skin at the top of each pale skinned, toned thigh.

 

[Obuzeti]

"If it keeps you alive, it's worth the investment," Jonah says, simply. "Since you're gonna wear it no matter what I say, might as well make sure it can stop some of the trouble you're invariably going to wag your ass at."

The main issue with her current outfit, though, is that the jacket overlaps the tiny shorts and makes it look a hell of a lot like she's not wearing any pants at all. His eyebrows raise and he coughs. "Maybe not wear that combination in public, unless you like being propositioned," he points out. "The jacket's alright, always has been. It's the leggings that invite so much fool trouble your way."

She has to have some idea of how she looks strutting around in boots and stockings like that, and it's been maddening men all over the Mojave for years. The number of times he's heard men angrily mutter to each other about teaching Kara a lesson is just about equal to the number of times she's split from town after a prank - which is all of them. She's not quite a full-blown icon of lust, but there's a distinctive trail of lovesick hearts behind her.

"You may put your trust in luck, hon," he says, "But I've always liked bulletproof mesh to say my prayers to. Don't mind me if I sprinkle a little of my communion in on you once in awhile."

He straightens the jacket on Kara's shoulders; then his lips curve. "Want to give it a workout? I'd like to get a feel for how you fight in a tussle."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

His simple statement makes her feel a little warm again. Kara valued keeping her own hide in tact plenty-but she's not at all used to someone -else- giving a damn if she got pumped full of holes or not.

It makes her feel a little quiet and briefly tongue tied again, but she recovers quick-tempered warmth still in her chest but her sass back in force.

Kara rolls her eyes at him, dramatically, before she smirks that familiar, cocky smirk. "I almost always have at least ONE pantleg on Moray, jeez." She smoothed her fingers over the sheer nylon material on the one leg and tapped the fishnet on the other, amused. "I'm just home and on vacation. Didn't think you'd mind terribly." She winks at him, the flirt.

There's something different to it though...intent rather than flippancy. Either way-Kara was and always had been ridiculously comfortable in her own skin.

"'Sides, not my fault if people get twisted up over stuff they can't have." An open palmed, carefree shrug. "I'd look good no matter what I did. Could rock a burlap sack, if I wanted."

She ruffles her own red hair, endlessly amused.

"And of course there's my sparklin' personality."

She laughs. She's so light heartedly amused overall the words didn't seem shallowly arrogant-but she was aware how men-and sometimes women-looked at her. Sometimes it helped, and sometimes it made for entertainment-but mostly, she just didn't give a damn, she did what she wanted.

Compared to the people she grew up with, she was downright conservative.

"Well, you got to-you don't seem to have much of it.". She teases about his luck, her smirk fading to the genuine smile as she taps the bird pin. "That's why you better stick with me 'n borrow some of mine."

He straightens the jacket, maybe just an excuse to touch her-and offers up a fight.

Kara tips her head, amused. "What, you looking to get cut up or something? I ain't dumb enough to try an' fistfight with someone as big as you. Mean left hook or not." She can't fight Moray-his arm was easily as thick as one of her thighs. He must mean just practicing or something.

When Raiders tangled with each other, it wasn't much different than an actual fight-just no guns. Well. Usually.

"I grew up with some mean sons of a bitches-I just plumb had to fight dirty. Maara might not have been down with someone dragging me off to the sack, but she sure didn't care if I got a black eye or not."

Her left hand presses into his chest as she leans to one side, bringing a boot up and twisting her knee in yet another example of her impressive flexibility, looking at the sole and showing him a suspicious change in material at the toe and heel of her boot. Kara rests her ankle against her thigh so she can press in on the front edge of the sole-revealing a nasty looking sharp edge just behind the rubber. She does the same for the back edge of her heel, then drops the boot with a laugh.

"Oh, and check this!" She reaches into a breast pocket and produces an ordinary lighter, stepping back a pace and flipping it open out away from him before-flint struck metal and a short jet of FLAMES shot out. "Rigged that myself!" She says brightly, repocketing it to refill with fluid later and patting down for other tricks.

"Lessee' here-got sparklers I used on somebody's eyes more n' once, this thing-". She withdraws what looked to be the handle of a cattle prod-with the prod part sawn through. That was a nasty trick in a hurry, for sure. "Sap I made for fools not paying attention in places I wanna sneak through aaaaand-". Well. Other stuff.

"And usually least one grenade." She says, opening one side and tapping the metal ring where a grenade usually hung, hidden in the inside curve of her waist. "Call that my final gambit. If Devon had gotten much nastier or really tried to keep me from leavin', I'd have plunked down the pin to it on his desk and gone from there." A smirk.

"Hell, I've bitten people before. Hear their hair turns red and they play pranks endlessly on full moons."

 

[Obuzeti]

"Maybe," Jonah says, a little dubious. "Or maybe it'd scratch you all to hell and you'd be miserable. Burlap's itchy as hell."

What a depressing realist.

At point-blank range, staring down Kara's bare thighs is an experience he hadn't known he wanted - he mostly holds still and lets her flex and stretch and explain all she wants, though he reaches out involuntarily to brace her arm, fingers wrapped all the way around her forearm easily. There's a moment of wild urge where he wants to just back Kara into the wall, that one leg up in the air, and -

well.

She's not wrong that she drives people wild.

"Well, I won't argue that you don't have a bag of tricks to pull on anyone in close," he agrees. "That'll work just fine. I put those little knuckle spikes on you though, and I want to make sure you're using 'em right before you give yourself a boxer's fracture trying to punch something thick."

Moray lifts his hand and displays it to Kara, tapping the first two and thickest knuckles. On him, they're flat and thick like bolt-heads. "Always hit with these," he says. "Biggest bones in your hand, sturdiest. You hit with the rest of your knuckles, you're like to crush 'em against whatever you're hitting. These, though -"

He turns, and drives one fist hard into the Vault wall next to them with a resounding bang like beating on a drum. He pulls back and shows her the knuckles again - a little red, but nothing that inconveniences him in the least. "They can take some punishment."