Chapter Text
A sneeze, followed by yet another sneeze. The penthouse bookshelves were a breeding ground for dust, it seemed. She just wanted to read a little, not cough and sneeze her guts out. Waving away the flying particles with her hands, the courier brushed open the pages of a simple, pre-war book, only to inhale another dust wave; eliciting more sneezes. Angrily, she crinkled the exposed pages in her palms, before slamming the book shut, and forcing it back onto the shelves.
Are you...kidding me-?
The courier, annoyed, slid a single finger upon the flat top of the bookshelf, then lifted it up to inspect it.
Dust, grime, filth. Completely repulsive.
"Victor," She squawked, "Victor-! Victor, come here." Her yell carried itself down the halls, hoping to find him. She waited for familiar rolling. On schedule, it came. He approached from behind, waving his arm at her.
"What can I do for ya, m'am?" He answered her call, as obediently as ever.
"I need a couple rags and a strong cleaning agent."
"What-? Er, not sure how exactly I am to get these, partner..."
"Hmm... More than a couple. We need an entire stock to clean this damn mess..." She continued, fumbling with her crooked shirt.
"To clean what mess, friend?"
"Can't you see all this wretched dust around the place? On every piece of furniture, on every page of every book, which is a hard feat to achieve, if I do say so myself..."
"...Oookay. Whatever you say, friend. I'll have a looksee. Maybe I'll find what ya need." Victor reached up to tip a hat that wasn't there, and rolled out the way he rolled in.
"Yeah, much obliged, Victor..." She wanted to sit down in the chair nearby, but the faded discoloration of the cushion fabric made her weary. It wasn't that House was dirty by choice, he didn't seem to be that type. Well, from what she had envisioned about him, he must have been extremely hygienic in the past; expensive cologne, clean brand name suits, sparkling clean living quarters... With all that money to his name, and being surrounded by the glamour of Vegas, it'd make sense. His lack of mobility made it so that any home-cleaning of his own was impossible, and his disinclination to trust any other person but her to be in his home ruled out the hiring of a staff...
"Well, now that I live here, something is gonna change." The courier announced to no one in particular.
With the help of Victor, the eager courier got to work wiping off the crust and dirt from the furniture in the Penthouse, starting with that infernal bookshelf. The gloves she was using weren't quite for the cleaning process, getting drenched in the chemicals being used, but in this fantastic dystopia, no longer was there a steady supply of the proper rubber gloves needed. Without letting it bother her, she went around the Penthouse floor, scrubbing away manically, much to Victor's concern. By the time she'd finished, the sun was setting; a beautiful, visible scene pouring in through the large, glass windows. Though the courier was about to call it a day, cease her cleaning frenzy, a stupid little thought popped right up, in that noggin of hers.
"Are we done yet?" Victor somehow managed to keep up his positivity, despite the slew of barked orders he had endured for hours.
"Not quite."
"What could we have missed?" Now there was some exasperation. It takes a brilliant programmer to make a robot capable of that.
"I recall... House's monitors having some stains on them." Answered the courier with a hint of mischief in her voice.
"Oh, cmon. Ya can't be serious...?"
"Ohohoho.. but I can. Give me the bucket; I'll scrub the hell outta him."
"You'll get some hell from him for certain, missy." He warned.
"I'm well-equipped to handle just about all that he could possibly throw at me." Bucket in hand and sponge in the other, the Courier stomped towards Mr. House's office. Victor did not follow. She barreled in, water from within the bucket sloshing over the sides, as she teetered from the weight. The display completely caught the business tycoon off guard.
"What's this? Courier, what a-"
"Hello, Mr. House, sir! I'm doing some... spring cleaning."
"It's not even spring." There was hints of snark in his tone.
"So what? I thought, sir, that I'd give your whole set-up there a dusting, a washup, if you will."
"What? No! Have you gone completely mad? Or did the fact that water and electronics do not mix slip your mind?" He countered, hoping to convince her to cease her stupidity.
"Nonsense. I'll be careful. I'll use this rag instead of the sponge. Don't move, okay?" She jeered.
"I do not appreciate your halfwitted humor in the slightest! Lieutenant-" She approached him quickly, as to not allow him to finish.
"No! Ignoramus! Dullard! You mooncalf! Conclude this at once or I will be forced to call my securitrons to detain you!" He snipped angrily, which came as a shock to the Courier. It almost gave her pause. Almost. She reached up, and began carefully wiping away the ages old dust and dirt that had gathered upon the monitor she'd always looked so fondly at. She ignored his enraged babbling, as she gently washed over the smaller camera monitors, and the control panels below the main screen, before returning back to re-wipe the face of House, ensuring she missed nothing.
"See? Not so bad. All clean and sparkly now, and nothing short-circuited or exploded!" She boldly beamed.
"..Ugh, but you are a halfwit at times."
"You didn't call your securitrons. I knew you wouldn't. You're far too fond of me." The courier said haughtily, folding her arms across her chest.
"Calling my bluff then, are you? Perhaps I will have them carry you off, yet. Disobedience is such a lackluster and unflattering trait. Think next time before you act so imprudently." Her confidence melted away at his words.
"....Sorry, sir. I just thought I'd do something nice for you that's equally beneficial. I've cleaned this whole floor, too."
"You presume that I haven't noticed that? Believe me, I have. I did not anticipate, however, that you'd come stampeding in here next."
"You look almost 100 years younger now that your monitor is clean." She jested lightheartedly.
"I do not find you funny."
"Yes you do. I bet you'd crack a smile right now, if it were possible."
"...Anyway. Though unwarranted, I appreciate your efforts, seeing as I am incapable of doing the task myself."
"I know. That's why I did it."
"Next time, ask. Don't just come rushing up with water."
"Ah yes, water; your one, true weakness."
"...There is truth to that, unfortunately."
"I'll see you later, Mr. House, sir." She slid the bucket handle over her arm, and waved.
"Farewell, Courier. " She took a couple steps, and waited.
"...Do come visit again later. I have a plan for Freeside that I need your assistance with." She turned back.
"Yessir. Ah, that shine is blinding! It's brighter than one of Vegas' neon signs, if I do say so myself!"
"Don't quit your day job; you'd be booed off stage if you attempted a comedian routine. So boorish and dreadful!" He quipped, causing her to giggle.
"Got it!"