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Stuck in a fucking alley again, cold sweat dripping down her brow, shivers running through her. The only light was a single lantern that sat against the wall of the tavern she had just been so nicely thrown out of. Again. That’s what she got for deciding not to take any shit from raiders…it didn’t help that she left their dirty blood on the floor. There was one rule at the Third Rail: don’t drag Chuck into your shit. Damned piece of rust kicked her out with nothing more than a “nothin’ personal,” grunt from Ham.
“Quite a night, huh, sister?” her drunken eyes slid up slowly, locking with the dark orbs that belonged to the beloved mayor of Goodneighbor.
“Wasn’t my fault, sir,” she felt herself clenched up. She lived in Goodneighbor for fucks sake, she should be used to looking at the rotting flesh of ghouls, yet the red scars made up of the remaining skin always made her cringe. She knew they were just people, but fuck were they ever ugly. She had to stop her drunk ass from recoiling and attacking the zombie on sight.
“I was a smoothie, too, sister. Ease up,” the good mayor grumbled. She tried her hardest not to stare at the jagged red scars that ran across his damaged skin- did he even have skin anymore?
“Yeah,” she replied halfheartedly. She was too drunk for this shit. She didn’t see him do it, but the ghoul plopped himself on the ground beside her. Only when she noticed, she tensed up.
She watched from the corner of her eye as he stretched out and made himself right at home. Great. He went into his ratty red jacket and pulled out a handful of chems. She knows this because the fucker pushed it right into her face. She recoiled and hit his hand. She expected to slap the chems out of his hand but she was so hammered she barely grazed him.
The ghoul chuckled to himself, sitting up once again. “What’s your poison?” his scratchy voice rumbled.
“Buffout,” she said in a daze, it was gonna be one bitch of a hangover.
“I’d’ve never pegged you a body builder, sister,” he said through the tablet he had logged in his teeth. “I’m a metats ghoul myself.”
“I’d’ve never pegged you an intellectual,” she grumbled sarcastically.
“Well I sure as hell feel like an intellectual on these!” he exclaimed. He wasn’t angry, but rather a little too enthusiastic for her tastes. She was too drunk for this shit. Barely able to even move her legs, she managed to sit up from her slouch and slowly drag her legs to her chest. She pressed her thumbs into her temples, trying to rub out the upcoming headache. What time was it even?
Good Neighbor was full of freaks and ghouls, as if there was a difference, but it still beat her time in Diamond City. She thanked her lucky stars she was able to find Good Neighbor, as much as she hated it. At least they didn’t kick people out for causing too much commotion, “and I’m pretty sure the mayor’s a synth…”
“What?” the ghoul slurred, clearly enjoying the high from whatever drug he decided on.
Shit, bourbon always broke the barrier between her brain and her mouth and she had just voiced her thoughts out loud. Just pretend that didn’t happen, she decided and continued rubbing her temples. He was talking. She had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, all she did was wonder how one tells the mayor to fuck off without getting shived like her friend Finn did. She never really liked the bastard, but they had some good times together. He was always able to fix her up with some chems on the cheap.
“Hello? Are you still there?” the scratcy voice brought her thoughts to a halt. God he was fucking annoying and she could feel his boozy breath leaning right in front of her head. “Y’know I hope you’re not expecting me to drag your dead ass out of the city. Corpses ain’t a good look, you feel?”
“Well there’s enough of ‘em here regardless,” she felt herself mouthing her mind. She tensed up, waiting for the rebuttal she didn’t receive.
“Hey, I dunno what the hell is up, but don’t go taking it out on the mayor, okay?” She would’ve thought he was reasonable if he wasn’t invading her space. Ugh, she could already feel herself sobering up and that was not a feeling she wanted anytime soon. Hair of the dog couldn’t be more desirable. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember if she had enough caps for a room at the Rexford. If she was gonna have a hangover she’d rather do it in style than wake up on her rotting old mattress she kept outside. But she was so goddamned blasted at this point she highly doubted lady luck was on her side.
She heard a grunt beside her. The mayor clearly noticed she was ignoring him and was most likely leaving. Maybe she’d be able to bum a bottle of rum off a trader with the few caps she may or may not have had left. She finally felt the strength to lift up her upper body and lean against the wall once again. The fucker was still there.
“Okay, what?” she grumbled, defeated.
“There’s clearly somethin’ wrong. I saw you at my bar, I don’t want this shit to give the town even worse of a reputation. I would’ve intervened, but you looked like you had your reasons.”
“Uh huh,” she mumbled. What more did he want?
“Hey, it’s my job to keep this town clean. What the fuck is up?”
She sighed, remembering the night terrors that brought her to the Third Rail in the first place. A child’s face, smiling and laughing, calling out for “Mama” before being obliterated by a plasma gun, only for the dust to clear revealing a dead infant. Fuck, tears began to well up in her eyes. She was too sober and that needed to be fixed.
“Chem withdrawal,” she managed to push out. She was surprised she was even able to say that. She truly hoped he believed her and would offer her more chems to take the pain away. There was no way in hell she was going to tell him about the innocent child she was forced to kill…and how that innocent child reminded her of her stillborn infant she’d given birth to only weeks prior. She sure as fuck wasn’t gonna tell him that the pain has haunted her since, leading to countless nights awake, hearing the screams and cries of everyone she hurt. She wasn’t going to reveal why she quit being a raider and moved to the only town that accepted misfits.
But somehow he understood. She could see the mutual sorrow in his eyes as a he quietly held out a bottle of whiskey and left as soon as she took it.