mickume/alt_nsfw · Datasets at Hugging Face

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I tried not to show my annoyance. She hadn’t seemed to support the Legion, certainly, but I didn’t like the NCR. I’d chosen the courier over them specifically because she was not their ally, but I guess I’d been wrong. Lucia was gone for most of the next week, leaving before sunrise and returning after dark, not that I could tell the time of day. Raul and Lily left around that time, the former going back to his house for a while and the latter heading into the mountains to help some doctor with his research. Presumably this was as an assistant or test subject rather than a scientist; I didn’t really think she had the brains to run such research, although she was certainly smarter than most mutants. When Cass wasn’t with the courier, she was usually drinking and Arcade left often as well. He claimed he was going back to the Follower’s camp and I wasn’t surprised, but I did get the sense that he might be at least a little motivated by the fact that I made him uncomfortable.
Boone, on the other hand, made me very uncomfortable. He didn’t trust me, and while I understood that, the soldier made a point of carrying his rifle everywhere he went and often cleaned it in the suite with a look like he planned to shoot me as soon as he finished. Needless to say, that made it very difficult to sleep.
I still got more than enough rest. Once I was out, almost nothing could wake me and a lot of things made me very tired during that first week. Despite the array of beds, I didn’t know if any of them had been claimed, so I claimed one of the couches. I was lying there, drinking vodka and debating the merits of going back to sleep when Arcade returned one evening.
I knew it was him as soon as the elevator opened. Most of the courier’s companions had some identifying scent, and in my opinion his was by far the most pleasant. Boone reeked of smoke and B.O., Cass stank of whiskey, Raul smelled faintly of oil, and Lily had the tormenting scent of fresh-baked cookies. I don’t know exactly what Arcade did all day, but he always smelled like desert plants, some of which had very strong scents. Some of which I think I was actually allergic to, considering the last two days I’d been sneezing uncontrollably whenever he was around. I sneezed as he walked into the room today.
"Are you alright?" He must have noticed how often I’d been sneezing, or else he was just worried. He seemed the type.
"Do you work with flowers or something? Is there a garden in Freeside that I don’t know about?" My eyes started watering and I rubbed the bridge of my nose in a vain effort to stop the burning in my sinuses. Arcade looked like he’d planned to sit down beside me, but he thought better of it.
"I work with plants—"
"For the Followers?"
"I would have thought they’d be more focused on saving all the drunk or dying folks."
"I do research." He sighed and headed off my next question. "We can’t all be good with people."
"You and I must have very different standards of `good with people." At the Gomorra—"
He crouched to look at me and recoiled as I tried to stifle another sneeze. "The Gomorra is hardly the best example."
"Are you sick or—?"
He reached out to touch my neck and I forced his hand away. "I’m not sick." I sniffled and cleared my throat. "I suspect I’m allergic to something you’ve been working with, I’m just not sure what, or if there’s anything I can do to treat it. I don’t exactly have the resources to make an antihistamine right now."
He’d started to apologize, but at that last statement, he stopped and frowned. "You know how to synthesize an antihistamine? Where did you learn that?"
I waved dismissively. "Look, I know a lot of things. What plants are you working with?"
He got up and I didn’t understand why until he took off his lab coat and washed his hands. "It’s probably the burroweed," Arcade explained, "that research was especially pointless, so I’m not going to be working with it again."
I sneezed again. "Of course. That’s a species of ragweed, isn’t it?"
"You know a lot more than I’d expect from a... from someone in your position."
I laughed, which became another sneeze and then a sneezing fit. "I know a lot more than most people expect."
He gave me a questioning stare and stepped a bit closer as I drank a long gulp of vodka from the bottle. I didn’t answer him. "Why exactly do you study plants? I know you’re doing research for the Followers, but what sort of research?"
"Stimpaks out of barrel cacti and other fantastic improbabilities." I was lying under a blanket, but a thought seemed to occur to him when he noticed my bare shoulders. "Do you have a change of clothes? I’m sorry I didn’t think of it earlier, but I can pick something up—"
"I’m fine as is, but you’re right." I sat up a bit more properly so he could join me if he wanted, not that my sinuses would appreciate that. "I did have clothes at the Gomorra, if they’re still there, and you can get me a change of clothes, if you feel like it, but I can also get them by my own means."
"...your own means?" I grinned mysteriously and he rolled his eyes. "You like being enigmatic, don’t you?"
"No more than you do."
He gave me another, almost stern look and then sighed. "I’m going to try and clean the burroweed off and maybe it won’t bother you so much, but I’m not sure why I bother."
"Thanks." I lay back down to sleep.
Arcade did end up getting me clothes, possibly because he just found my skimpy stripper’s outfit too revealing. I tried to wear it whenever possible just to mess with him. He was cute when he was uncomfortable, but really I was bored. Realizing I wasn’t going away, Boone started avoiding the Lucky 38. Lily and Raul didn’t come back for a week after that and the courier kept up her schedule of never being around when I was awake, even if I was now awake at different times. I don’t think she did it intentionally; she seemed very busy. She was a major player and with everything happening around the Mojave, she didn’t have much time to spare. Cass stopped by sometimes. Whenever I saw her she was either drunk or passed out. She hit on me whenever she could and groped me about as much as I was used to, but I’d learned long ago how to deal with drunks like her. I got her talking, played cards with her, all the usual stuff to entertain us both. Veronica also dropped by, but that was different. I think she actually liked the Lucky 38, as did I, but I bothered her. I preferred Cass and Arcade.
As things settled down I found enough free time at night to remedy my inability to supply myself. I could make most of what I needed given the raw materials and I did so whenever possible. I did that mostly at night, when everyone else was asleep and I could use the hot plate without people asking what I was doing. During the day, I slept, or confined myself to more ordinary tasks. Mostly I entertained Cass and struggled to keep her hands off me.
"Bullshit, you’re cheating." Cass insisted after the fifth hand of poker.
I laughed and raised my hands in surrender, "No, I swear I’m not."
"Liar." She swiped for my bottle of vodka, having finished her own whiskey and I snatched it out of the way.
"I mean it, I’m just very good at reading people."
She grabbed for my booze again and I stood to dodge, holding the vodka as far from her as possible.
"Then why’ve you got that stupid grin like yer yankin’ my chain?"
"This is my face! And my vodka! This is just the way I look, Cass!"
She lunged at me and I bolted through the hallway to the living room, barely noticing as the elevator opened and I raced past Arcade. Cass didn’t stop until I vaulted a desk to put some barrier between us. "Come on," she growled, "You owe me."
"I don’t owe you anything!" I was having fun with this and my grin only faltered a little when Arcade followed us into the room. Hopefully he’d listen to my side of things and not just side with Cass, I got the sense that he was reasonable, but he surprised me sometimes. I couldn’t really read him as effortlessly as I could analyze most other people.
Cass slurred a curse and grabbed over the desk, missing me badly. "How about that vodka for all the caps you won?"
"Cass, we’re both nearly broke. I won nine caps. Nine. That’s not even worth a bottle of vodka!"
"It’s worth half!" She scrambled drunkenly over the desk and I hopped on top of it to flee. I balanced on the balls of my feet to bound gracefully over to the bed furthest from the door, not touching the floor once. Cass and Arcade both stared in stunned admiration and I gave an exaggerated bow, smirking until Cass charged towards me, knocking over a chair in her haste.
As inebriated as she was, even slightly drunk, I remained far more nimble. Still, dodging her around that bed, she managed to grip the neck of the bottle above my hands and I didn’t dare hold it farther from her lest this devolve into a very one-sided make-out session. Or sex. I liked sex, I just wasn’t drunk enough to want sex with Cass. "Cass, you’ve had enough, really, leave me my vodka."
She slurred something unintelligible and tugged on the bottle, throwing me off balance. Entirely on the instinct of someone practiced as a dancer, I brought my legs up and forward, intending to leap over Cass but restrained by her grip on the bottle. The result was that for an instant, I found myself straddling Cass with her chin in my crotch and my thighs on either side of her neck. I was sitting, rather uncomfortably, on her chest. Apparently my body trumped the possibility of booze or else her drunk mind thought she could get both if she distracted me, so Cass released the bottle to grab my pants with both hands and I absconded immediately as much to keep her out of my pants as to protect my vodka.
I had hoped to reach the hallway, but her grab had succeeded in unzipping my shorts, not that she’d reached inside, so, although I retained my vodka, I’d been effectively hobbled by my pants. I stopped, holding my vodka over my head and hopefully out of reach while I balanced on one leg and struggled to pull my pants back up. Cass enjoyed the view. "Do you even have normal underwear?"
"I’m used to this." I replied, not really answering her question as I tried to get my red sequined thong back into my shorts. I was glad that she seemed to have given up on my vodka, but I’d been wrong. With remarkable agility or maybe just determination, Cass scrambled to her feet and dove for my vodka again.
"You’ve already had two bottles of whiskey!" I retorted, hopping backwards onto a chair to hold my vodka out of reach over my head.
Cass grabbed my shoulder, trying to steady herself as she grabbed for the bottle, "And you’ve already had one bottle of vodka, this one’s mine!"
"You didn’t buy it—!"
Somebody grabbed the bottle out of my hand and I stumbled off the chair and turned around to see. I’d completely forgotten about Arcade, who now held the bottle out of either of our reach and eyed us in frustration. "I think both of you have had quite enough."
Cass stalked over to him. "You’ve got ten seconds to—" He narrowed his eyes and I guess she had enough sense to realize he was much too stubborn to be intimidated. Cass snarled something about "no fun at all" and stormed off into the kitchen.
"You’d better not be opening another bottle of whiskey in there!"
I couldn’t hear her reply and I think it was mostly swearing, but I didn’t give him a chance to advise her again. I tried to take the vodka while he was distracted, but my hand slipped off the glass and he raised the bottle until it brushed the ceiling.
I scowled. "Now that’s just unfair."
"You’re as bad as Cass, if you keep doing this—"
I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "I could climb you to get it, just like I climbed that pole."
He blushed. I noticed him glance down, no doubt noting my minimal clothing as much as the scarlet thong still glittering above my unzipped shorts. "...I don’t doubt that. Please don’t."
I stepped closer, mostly to unnerve him. I made sure we weren’t quite touching until I leaned forward to speak, brushing my chin against his collarbone because I wasn’t quite tall enough to whisper in his ear. "I’d really like my vodka back, Arcade."
He shivered and blushed. "...Fine." He handed me the bottle and I took it politely. "Don’t show Cass. Try to drink less, okay? I’d really appreciate if this didn’t become a regular occurrence."
He scowled and I winked at him, taking my vodka to my couch as he walked over to remake the beds I’d jumped across.
I hadn’t checked the time, but it was later than I’d expected. Arcade went to sleep shortly after that escapade. Most of the courier’s friends just slept in whatever they happened to be wearing, but Arcade actually had a set of pajamas. Granted, they weren’t the sort of sexy sleepwear I’d seen at the Gomorra, they weren’t even particularly good quality, they were just pajamas, but it seemed so old-world that he even bothered to keep a set of clothes just for sleeping. It was cute. I didn’t expect that we’d ever date, or even sleep together at that point, I just found him adorable in his striped pajamas, and his concern for others, and the way he got so flustered when I flaunted my body.
I’d also noticed that he often had trouble sleeping. That worried me because if anyone was going to disapprove of what I did at night, it was him, and he was also the most likely to catch me. I drank my vodka and paged through the same old issue of Today’s Physician until I trusted that he was asleep. I didn’t hear movement from the kitchen and I found Cass passed out when I headed for the workbench. I made sure she was alive before I set down my vodka and hauled my supplies out of the footlocker where I’d hidden them. I had a wide array of chemicals and materials, but the courier kept quite enough clutter around the workbench so I didn’t expect anyone to recognize that some of it was mine especially when I stowed it in a container beneath the pile.
I finished my vodka while I worked, but I’d done this a thousand times by now and trusted myself not to screw it up. I threw together a little Fixer as well, for Cass. Maybe I could slip that to her and talk her out of drinking quite so much tomorrow. I didn’t need her killing her liver on my watch; I might be blamed. I must have been drunker than I thought because I didn’t hear the elevator doors open. I didn’t notice there was anyone else awake in the suite until the courier spoke from the doorway.
"Whatcha making?"
I glanced up so fast that I raked my hand over the hotplate as I took a beaker off of it. "I can make a lot of things..." Her innocent face flexed into a frown. It was slight, but I shuddered. The girl got things done, she got people to trust her, a lot of people; she wasn’t someone to be trifled with. "Fixer," I admitted.
Lucia stepped closer, moving to stand beside me. Either she was flirting or trying to appear sympathetic. "What’re you addicted to?"
I shook my head and pointed behind me over my shoulder at the unconscious red-head at the table. "I thought she could use it."
"Don’t bother."
I tilted my head at the courier. "Why?"
"Cass will never stop drinking. I’ve tried."
For a moment I considered that response. The courier had an impregnable pokerface; I had no idea if she was lying or if that was true. But I wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t let me stay, so her word was law. I shrugged.
"Can you make anything else?"
I shrugged again. "I am a chemist. I can synthesize Buffout, Med-X, Psycho, Fixer, pretty much anything people at the Gomorra might ask for. I can also make a bunch of more specific medications; things like anti-histamines and anticoagulants... all kinds of things."
I shook my head. "Not stimpaks. Basically anything else."
"Think you can synthesize Lily’s medicine?"
She shrugged, "I have to ask, but if you can, I’d appreciate it." She flashed that angelic grin, "It would save time with her having to hike into the mountains for it right now."
"Right." I tried to sound relaxed. She was trying to manipulate me and I had no idea why. It was best to keep my head down and make her like me. She was dangerous. Nero had been ruthless, but he couldn’t cover the Mojave. If I pissed off the courier, I could cross the country and I knew somehow I’d still wake up in a pool of blood to her holding a knife to my throat. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
I answered every question she asked, just hoping Arcade wouldn’t wake up and hear us. I think she realized I wouldn’t be any trouble. She wanted Med-X, among other things, and I guess it was good that that was my specialty. I cooked up eight syringes worth with her hovering beside me. As I finished the eighth, she slipped her hand down the back of my shorts. I didn’t react. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to. I set the last syringe down while her fingers crept towards my thigh and she asked, "You’re some kind of doctor?"
I scoffed. "I cook drugs; that doesn’t make me a doctor."
"But you were training as one." She slid her chin along my shoulder, but that wasn’t why I froze. She had a tone to her voice like Clanden, or someone even worse. She thought I’d actively lied to her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill me right here if she thought that was true.
"Yes, I was training as one, but I never completed that training."
"Veronica told me."
Behind us, Cass groaned. "Told ya what?" She hadn’t opened her eyes or even sat up. For all we knew, she was still asleep.
"Nothing," Lucia insisted, "go back to bed."
Cass grumbled her assent and the courier shoved me towards the door, pausing only to stash the Med-X in her bag. I didn’t dare ask why she wanted it.
With her hand still down my pants, Lucia guided me into her room and only released me once we were inside. She used that hand to close and lock the door. "You made drugs for the Gomorra?"
She tilted her head. "So you’ve treated... unsavory conditions?"
I raised an eyebrow and hoped I could actually be tactful when my life depended on it. "You mean sexual disease?" I really hoped she wasn’t asking what I think she was asking. "I don’t handle that, but the Gomorra sends—"
"I’m clean," the courier assured me, realizing why I got so uncomfortable. She clarified by asking, "Are you?"
"I am." I really hoped she wasn’t asking for the reason that most people asked. Although maybe if I slept with her it would give her more reason not to kill me.
Lucia frowned, just a little suspicious. "How? You’re a prostitute and you said you can’t treat that stuff."
"I can recognize it." It was true enough. I could recognize the active disease and I could read people well enough to tell when they were intentionally visiting me between outbreaks. "I don’t deal with clients like that."
The courier shook her head. "I’ve been to the Gomorra; you can’t just turn people away, they don’t let you."
I held up two fingers. "One, I was pretty much Nero’s pet. Most of the staff let me get away with anything and I didn’t push the boundaries unless I had to; what Nero didn’t know never hurt him. And two, I can synthesize a hell of a lot. When I needed to, I’d slip customers a powerful hallucinogen and they wouldn’t know what we did. That’s the same stuff the Omertas gave Troike, mixed with Buffout and Psycho, but I didn’t know what they’d be using it for."
"Clever." She gripped my shoulders and shoved me towards the bed. I didn’t have much choice. I was stronger than her and slightly taller, but even if she didn’t have at least one weapon on her, she had allies and I didn’t. Even if I could kill her and escape, I had other enemies. The Lucky 38 was probably the only place even close to safe for me. And if I had to sleep with her to stay here it was better than dying out there.
Lucia unzipped my shorts and yanked them off of me. She grabbed the waist of my thong and traced the line it had left imprinted in my skin as she met my gaze. "You could help out, you know."
I grimaced, lying sprawled on my back. "I get the sense that you don’t want me to."
Lucia giggled. "Oh, you’re good." That love of power unnerved me more than a little.
She stripped me from the waist down and stepped back to do the same to herself. I’d been shirtless as usual; now I just had the chains and nipple rings left along with my bracers and collar. I stroked myself hard while she undressed. She kept her shirt and jacket on. Actually, I fully expected her to keep both on the entire time, but she unbuttoned her shirt as she climbed on top of me. She seemed to think I’d appreciate that so I did my best to keep her thinking that was the case and that I wasn’t trying to picture someone with narrow hips, no boobs, and a dick. Hopefully I could do this quickly enough to satisfy her without agonizing myself too much. I’d dealt with women at the Gomorra, but that had been different; I’d gone there voluntarily, in this case I was fleeing to the last place I might be safe. This was the price I had to pay, not the job I’d signed on for to earn my caps.
I licked my thumbs and slid them over her clit. She shivered. "Your skin’s like ice."
"Sorry," I pulled my hands back to warm them up and she caught them.

I tried not to show my annoyance. She hadn’t seemed to support the Legion, certainly, but I didn’t like the NCR. I’d chosen the courier over them specifically because she was not their ally, but I guess I’d been wrong. Lucia was gone for most of the next week, leaving before sunrise and returning after dark, not that I could tell the time of day. Raul and Lily left around that time, the former going back to his house for a while and the latter heading into the mountains to help some doctor with his research. Presumably this was as an assistant or test subject rather than a scientist; I didn’t really think she had the brains to run such research, although she was certainly smarter than most mutants. When Cass wasn’t with the courier, she was usually drinking and Arcade left often as well. He claimed he was going back to the Follower’s camp and I wasn’t surprised, but I did get the sense that he might be at least a little motivated by the fact that I made him uncomfortable.

Boone, on the other hand, made me very uncomfortable. He didn’t trust me, and while I understood that, the soldier made a point of carrying his rifle everywhere he went and often cleaned it in the suite with a look like he planned to shoot me as soon as he finished. Needless to say, that made it very difficult to sleep.

I still got more than enough rest. Once I was out, almost nothing could wake me and a lot of things made me very tired during that first week. Despite the array of beds, I didn’t know if any of them had been claimed, so I claimed one of the couches. I was lying there, drinking vodka and debating the merits of going back to sleep when Arcade returned one evening.

I knew it was him as soon as the elevator opened. Most of the courier’s companions had some identifying scent, and in my opinion his was by far the most pleasant. Boone reeked of smoke and B.O., Cass stank of whiskey, Raul smelled faintly of oil, and Lily had the tormenting scent of fresh-baked cookies. I don’t know exactly what Arcade did all day, but he always smelled like desert plants, some of which had very strong scents. Some of which I think I was actually allergic to, considering the last two days I’d been sneezing uncontrollably whenever he was around. I sneezed as he walked into the room today.

"Are you alright?" He must have noticed how often I’d been sneezing, or else he was just worried. He seemed the type.

"Do you work with flowers or something? Is there a garden in Freeside that I don’t know about?" My eyes started watering and I rubbed the bridge of my nose in a vain effort to stop the burning in my sinuses. Arcade looked like he’d planned to sit down beside me, but he thought better of it.

"I work with plants—"

"For the Followers?"

"I would have thought they’d be more focused on saving all the drunk or dying folks."

"I do research." He sighed and headed off my next question. "We can’t all be good with people."

"You and I must have very different standards of `good with people." At the Gomorra—"

He crouched to look at me and recoiled as I tried to stifle another sneeze. "The Gomorra is hardly the best example."

"Are you sick or—?"

He reached out to touch my neck and I forced his hand away. "I’m not sick." I sniffled and cleared my throat. "I suspect I’m allergic to something you’ve been working with, I’m just not sure what, or if there’s anything I can do to treat it. I don’t exactly have the resources to make an antihistamine right now."

He’d started to apologize, but at that last statement, he stopped and frowned. "You know how to synthesize an antihistamine? Where did you learn that?"

I waved dismissively. "Look, I know a lot of things. What plants are you working with?"

He got up and I didn’t understand why until he took off his lab coat and washed his hands. "It’s probably the burroweed," Arcade explained, "that research was especially pointless, so I’m not going to be working with it again."

I sneezed again. "Of course. That’s a species of ragweed, isn’t it?"

"You know a lot more than I’d expect from a... from someone in your position."

I laughed, which became another sneeze and then a sneezing fit. "I know a lot more than most people expect."

He gave me a questioning stare and stepped a bit closer as I drank a long gulp of vodka from the bottle. I didn’t answer him. "Why exactly do you study plants? I know you’re doing research for the Followers, but what sort of research?"

"Stimpaks out of barrel cacti and other fantastic improbabilities." I was lying under a blanket, but a thought seemed to occur to him when he noticed my bare shoulders. "Do you have a change of clothes? I’m sorry I didn’t think of it earlier, but I can pick something up—"

"I’m fine as is, but you’re right." I sat up a bit more properly so he could join me if he wanted, not that my sinuses would appreciate that. "I did have clothes at the Gomorra, if they’re still there, and you can get me a change of clothes, if you feel like it, but I can also get them by my own means."

"...your own means?" I grinned mysteriously and he rolled his eyes. "You like being enigmatic, don’t you?"

"No more than you do."

He gave me another, almost stern look and then sighed. "I’m going to try and clean the burroweed off and maybe it won’t bother you so much, but I’m not sure why I bother."

"Thanks." I lay back down to sleep.

Arcade did end up getting me clothes, possibly because he just found my skimpy stripper’s outfit too revealing. I tried to wear it whenever possible just to mess with him. He was cute when he was uncomfortable, but really I was bored. Realizing I wasn’t going away, Boone started avoiding the Lucky 38. Lily and Raul didn’t come back for a week after that and the courier kept up her schedule of never being around when I was awake, even if I was now awake at different times. I don’t think she did it intentionally; she seemed very busy. She was a major player and with everything happening around the Mojave, she didn’t have much time to spare. Cass stopped by sometimes. Whenever I saw her she was either drunk or passed out. She hit on me whenever she could and groped me about as much as I was used to, but I’d learned long ago how to deal with drunks like her. I got her talking, played cards with her, all the usual stuff to entertain us both. Veronica also dropped by, but that was different. I think she actually liked the Lucky 38, as did I, but I bothered her. I preferred Cass and Arcade.

As things settled down I found enough free time at night to remedy my inability to supply myself. I could make most of what I needed given the raw materials and I did so whenever possible. I did that mostly at night, when everyone else was asleep and I could use the hot plate without people asking what I was doing. During the day, I slept, or confined myself to more ordinary tasks. Mostly I entertained Cass and struggled to keep her hands off me.

"Bullshit, you’re cheating." Cass insisted after the fifth hand of poker.

I laughed and raised my hands in surrender, "No, I swear I’m not."

"Liar." She swiped for my bottle of vodka, having finished her own whiskey and I snatched it out of the way.

"I mean it, I’m just very good at reading people."

She grabbed for my booze again and I stood to dodge, holding the vodka as far from her as possible.

"Then why’ve you got that stupid grin like yer yankin’ my chain?"

"This is my face! And my vodka! This is just the way I look, Cass!"

She lunged at me and I bolted through the hallway to the living room, barely noticing as the elevator opened and I raced past Arcade. Cass didn’t stop until I vaulted a desk to put some barrier between us. "Come on," she growled, "You owe me."

"I don’t owe you anything!" I was having fun with this and my grin only faltered a little when Arcade followed us into the room. Hopefully he’d listen to my side of things and not just side with Cass, I got the sense that he was reasonable, but he surprised me sometimes. I couldn’t really read him as effortlessly as I could analyze most other people.

Cass slurred a curse and grabbed over the desk, missing me badly. "How about that vodka for all the caps you won?"

"Cass, we’re both nearly broke. I won nine caps. Nine. That’s not even worth a bottle of vodka!"

"It’s worth half!" She scrambled drunkenly over the desk and I hopped on top of it to flee. I balanced on the balls of my feet to bound gracefully over to the bed furthest from the door, not touching the floor once. Cass and Arcade both stared in stunned admiration and I gave an exaggerated bow, smirking until Cass charged towards me, knocking over a chair in her haste.

As inebriated as she was, even slightly drunk, I remained far more nimble. Still, dodging her around that bed, she managed to grip the neck of the bottle above my hands and I didn’t dare hold it farther from her lest this devolve into a very one-sided make-out session. Or sex. I liked sex, I just wasn’t drunk enough to want sex with Cass. "Cass, you’ve had enough, really, leave me my vodka."

She slurred something unintelligible and tugged on the bottle, throwing me off balance. Entirely on the instinct of someone practiced as a dancer, I brought my legs up and forward, intending to leap over Cass but restrained by her grip on the bottle. The result was that for an instant, I found myself straddling Cass with her chin in my crotch and my thighs on either side of her neck. I was sitting, rather uncomfortably, on her chest. Apparently my body trumped the possibility of booze or else her drunk mind thought she could get both if she distracted me, so Cass released the bottle to grab my pants with both hands and I absconded immediately as much to keep her out of my pants as to protect my vodka.

I had hoped to reach the hallway, but her grab had succeeded in unzipping my shorts, not that she’d reached inside, so, although I retained my vodka, I’d been effectively hobbled by my pants. I stopped, holding my vodka over my head and hopefully out of reach while I balanced on one leg and struggled to pull my pants back up. Cass enjoyed the view. "Do you even have normal underwear?"

"I’m used to this." I replied, not really answering her question as I tried to get my red sequined thong back into my shorts. I was glad that she seemed to have given up on my vodka, but I’d been wrong. With remarkable agility or maybe just determination, Cass scrambled to her feet and dove for my vodka again.

"You’ve already had two bottles of whiskey!" I retorted, hopping backwards onto a chair to hold my vodka out of reach over my head.

Cass grabbed my shoulder, trying to steady herself as she grabbed for the bottle, "And you’ve already had one bottle of vodka, this one’s mine!"

"You didn’t buy it—!"

Somebody grabbed the bottle out of my hand and I stumbled off the chair and turned around to see. I’d completely forgotten about Arcade, who now held the bottle out of either of our reach and eyed us in frustration. "I think both of you have had quite enough."

Cass stalked over to him. "You’ve got ten seconds to—" He narrowed his eyes and I guess she had enough sense to realize he was much too stubborn to be intimidated. Cass snarled something about "no fun at all" and stormed off into the kitchen.

"You’d better not be opening another bottle of whiskey in there!"

I couldn’t hear her reply and I think it was mostly swearing, but I didn’t give him a chance to advise her again. I tried to take the vodka while he was distracted, but my hand slipped off the glass and he raised the bottle until it brushed the ceiling.

I scowled. "Now that’s just unfair."

"You’re as bad as Cass, if you keep doing this—"

I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "I could climb you to get it, just like I climbed that pole."

He blushed. I noticed him glance down, no doubt noting my minimal clothing as much as the scarlet thong still glittering above my unzipped shorts. "...I don’t doubt that. Please don’t."

I stepped closer, mostly to unnerve him. I made sure we weren’t quite touching until I leaned forward to speak, brushing my chin against his collarbone because I wasn’t quite tall enough to whisper in his ear. "I’d really like my vodka back, Arcade."

He shivered and blushed. "...Fine." He handed me the bottle and I took it politely. "Don’t show Cass. Try to drink less, okay? I’d really appreciate if this didn’t become a regular occurrence."

He scowled and I winked at him, taking my vodka to my couch as he walked over to remake the beds I’d jumped across.

I hadn’t checked the time, but it was later than I’d expected. Arcade went to sleep shortly after that escapade. Most of the courier’s friends just slept in whatever they happened to be wearing, but Arcade actually had a set of pajamas. Granted, they weren’t the sort of sexy sleepwear I’d seen at the Gomorra, they weren’t even particularly good quality, they were just pajamas, but it seemed so old-world that he even bothered to keep a set of clothes just for sleeping. It was cute. I didn’t expect that we’d ever date, or even sleep together at that point, I just found him adorable in his striped pajamas, and his concern for others, and the way he got so flustered when I flaunted my body.

I’d also noticed that he often had trouble sleeping. That worried me because if anyone was going to disapprove of what I did at night, it was him, and he was also the most likely to catch me. I drank my vodka and paged through the same old issue of Today’s Physician until I trusted that he was asleep. I didn’t hear movement from the kitchen and I found Cass passed out when I headed for the workbench. I made sure she was alive before I set down my vodka and hauled my supplies out of the footlocker where I’d hidden them. I had a wide array of chemicals and materials, but the courier kept quite enough clutter around the workbench so I didn’t expect anyone to recognize that some of it was mine especially when I stowed it in a container beneath the pile.

I finished my vodka while I worked, but I’d done this a thousand times by now and trusted myself not to screw it up. I threw together a little Fixer as well, for Cass. Maybe I could slip that to her and talk her out of drinking quite so much tomorrow. I didn’t need her killing her liver on my watch; I might be blamed. I must have been drunker than I thought because I didn’t hear the elevator doors open. I didn’t notice there was anyone else awake in the suite until the courier spoke from the doorway.

"Whatcha making?"

I glanced up so fast that I raked my hand over the hotplate as I took a beaker off of it. "I can make a lot of things..." Her innocent face flexed into a frown. It was slight, but I shuddered. The girl got things done, she got people to trust her, a lot of people; she wasn’t someone to be trifled with. "Fixer," I admitted.

Lucia stepped closer, moving to stand beside me. Either she was flirting or trying to appear sympathetic. "What’re you addicted to?"

I shook my head and pointed behind me over my shoulder at the unconscious red-head at the table. "I thought she could use it."

"Don’t bother."

I tilted my head at the courier. "Why?"

"Cass will never stop drinking. I’ve tried."

For a moment I considered that response. The courier had an impregnable pokerface; I had no idea if she was lying or if that was true. But I wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t let me stay, so her word was law. I shrugged.

"Can you make anything else?"

I shrugged again. "I am a chemist. I can synthesize Buffout, Med-X, Psycho, Fixer, pretty much anything people at the Gomorra might ask for. I can also make a bunch of more specific medications; things like anti-histamines and anticoagulants... all kinds of things."

I shook my head. "Not stimpaks. Basically anything else."

"Think you can synthesize Lily’s medicine?"

She shrugged, "I have to ask, but if you can, I’d appreciate it." She flashed that angelic grin, "It would save time with her having to hike into the mountains for it right now."

"Right." I tried to sound relaxed. She was trying to manipulate me and I had no idea why. It was best to keep my head down and make her like me. She was dangerous. Nero had been ruthless, but he couldn’t cover the Mojave. If I pissed off the courier, I could cross the country and I knew somehow I’d still wake up in a pool of blood to her holding a knife to my throat. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

I answered every question she asked, just hoping Arcade wouldn’t wake up and hear us. I think she realized I wouldn’t be any trouble. She wanted Med-X, among other things, and I guess it was good that that was my specialty. I cooked up eight syringes worth with her hovering beside me. As I finished the eighth, she slipped her hand down the back of my shorts. I didn’t react. I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to. I set the last syringe down while her fingers crept towards my thigh and she asked, "You’re some kind of doctor?"

I scoffed. "I cook drugs; that doesn’t make me a doctor."

"But you were training as one." She slid her chin along my shoulder, but that wasn’t why I froze. She had a tone to her voice like Clanden, or someone even worse. She thought I’d actively lied to her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill me right here if she thought that was true.

"Yes, I was training as one, but I never completed that training."

"Veronica told me."

Behind us, Cass groaned. "Told ya what?" She hadn’t opened her eyes or even sat up. For all we knew, she was still asleep.

"Nothing," Lucia insisted, "go back to bed."

Cass grumbled her assent and the courier shoved me towards the door, pausing only to stash the Med-X in her bag. I didn’t dare ask why she wanted it.

With her hand still down my pants, Lucia guided me into her room and only released me once we were inside. She used that hand to close and lock the door. "You made drugs for the Gomorra?"

She tilted her head. "So you’ve treated... unsavory conditions?"

I raised an eyebrow and hoped I could actually be tactful when my life depended on it. "You mean sexual disease?" I really hoped she wasn’t asking what I think she was asking. "I don’t handle that, but the Gomorra sends—"

"I’m clean," the courier assured me, realizing why I got so uncomfortable. She clarified by asking, "Are you?"

"I am." I really hoped she wasn’t asking for the reason that most people asked. Although maybe if I slept with her it would give her more reason not to kill me.

Lucia frowned, just a little suspicious. "How? You’re a prostitute and you said you can’t treat that stuff."

"I can recognize it." It was true enough. I could recognize the active disease and I could read people well enough to tell when they were intentionally visiting me between outbreaks. "I don’t deal with clients like that."

The courier shook her head. "I’ve been to the Gomorra; you can’t just turn people away, they don’t let you."

I held up two fingers. "One, I was pretty much Nero’s pet. Most of the staff let me get away with anything and I didn’t push the boundaries unless I had to; what Nero didn’t know never hurt him. And two, I can synthesize a hell of a lot. When I needed to, I’d slip customers a powerful hallucinogen and they wouldn’t know what we did. That’s the same stuff the Omertas gave Troike, mixed with Buffout and Psycho, but I didn’t know what they’d be using it for."

"Clever." She gripped my shoulders and shoved me towards the bed. I didn’t have much choice. I was stronger than her and slightly taller, but even if she didn’t have at least one weapon on her, she had allies and I didn’t. Even if I could kill her and escape, I had other enemies. The Lucky 38 was probably the only place even close to safe for me. And if I had to sleep with her to stay here it was better than dying out there.

Lucia unzipped my shorts and yanked them off of me. She grabbed the waist of my thong and traced the line it had left imprinted in my skin as she met my gaze. "You could help out, you know."

I grimaced, lying sprawled on my back. "I get the sense that you don’t want me to."

Lucia giggled. "Oh, you’re good." That love of power unnerved me more than a little.

She stripped me from the waist down and stepped back to do the same to herself. I’d been shirtless as usual; now I just had the chains and nipple rings left along with my bracers and collar. I stroked myself hard while she undressed. She kept her shirt and jacket on. Actually, I fully expected her to keep both on the entire time, but she unbuttoned her shirt as she climbed on top of me. She seemed to think I’d appreciate that so I did my best to keep her thinking that was the case and that I wasn’t trying to picture someone with narrow hips, no boobs, and a dick. Hopefully I could do this quickly enough to satisfy her without agonizing myself too much. I’d dealt with women at the Gomorra, but that had been different; I’d gone there voluntarily, in this case I was fleeing to the last place I might be safe. This was the price I had to pay, not the job I’d signed on for to earn my caps.

I licked my thumbs and slid them over her clit. She shivered. "Your skin’s like ice."

"Sorry," I pulled my hands back to warm them up and she caught them.