Chapter Text
Courier Six had been nothing but helpful around Freeside as of late, so The King couldn’t really justify making a fuss when they decided to drop their companion off at the School of Impersonation unexpectedly one afternoon.
And so, he didn’t.
What he couldn’t have predicted was that this would become a habit.
———
The King sat in his usual spot in the front of the theater. The room was dimly lit and dust particles gently floated through beams of light that cut down through the darkness and hit the stage with a harsh spotlight. The soft, grainy sounds of a rockabilly instrumental track played over speakers that were weathered from years of disrepair and now years of use. Plastic mid-century chairs circled a collection of small, round tables, and the faint sound of idle chatter could be heard through the thin walls. King leaned forward in his seat, bracing his hands against his thighs, and watched the same performer practice the same act that he usually practiced at the same time every evening. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t particularly entertaining, but it provided King a mindless distraction from his responsibility; one that he allowed himself every so often. It wasn’t every day that a gang leader had a moment to breathe, especially when being antagonized by what calls itself the “local government.”
When Six showed up, it was far from a surprise; After all, he had asked them to stop by whenever they found the chance so that they could discuss a potential favor that had been left on-hold earlier that week. He welcomed the break in the monotony that their arrival gave him. At the door, he heard them chatting briefly with Pacer, his bodyguard-slash-closest-friend. It usually took a while for his ol’ buddy to get comfortable with strangers encroaching on the Kings’ territory, especially when they arrived under such suspicious circumstances, so it was nice to hear them finally getting along– at least cordially. While the courier’s little visit had been accounted for, what King wasn’t expecting was the unfamiliar voice that carried over what had become the white noise he was used to hearing. He straightened his back in interest. He reached down and gave Rex a pat, who sat at his side, and signaled for him to stay. He got up and dragged his chair back as carefully as he could until it hit the wall that was shared by the lobby. He angled his head just enough so he could hear what was being said without being seen through the open doorway that led out. If this mysterious individual ran with Six, he had no cause to be suspicious of them, but he wanted to investigate anyway. With the constant stressors and frustration that come with leading the most influential gang in Freeside, he thought himself allowed to indulge in his innocent curiosity just this once.
In other words: it’s fun to sneak around sometimes.
The voices he could hear through the wall were slightly muffled, but he could just about distinguish what was being said, and by whom.
“Wait here.” Ah, Six, curt as ever.
“I’ll be here, just don’t expect me to fend off a gang of Super Mutants while you’re gone.” The elusive stranger responded.
King raised an eyebrow. Based on the voice, he wagered a guess that the Courier’s companion was a man. Based on his tone, he guessed that this man was not entirely pleased to be here, which was a first. So long as you weren’t randomly threatening people, the Kings were a pretty hospitable bunch by Wasteland standards, so why wouldn’t you be pleased to be at their HQ? Maybe he was an older guy. When he heard the sound of Six’s footsteps getting closer, King stood from his seat (which he left, still leaning at an awkward angle up against the wall), and met them at the doorway to the theater. The two of them stood on each side of the threshold, as if there was an invisible barrier preventing them from going any further.
The King gave Six his classic, lopsided grin, “There you are! Lay it out, bud: what’s goin’ on?” He grabbed the back of a new, nearby chair and leaned his weight on the hand that gripped it. He swiftly kicked one leg in front of the other.
Six updated him on the situation regarding the supply drops over by the train station. Though the subject was of particular importance, King found himself distracted as they spoke; he craned his neck slightly to try and get a view over their shoulder. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the person they left in the reception room. The fella' must’ve been over in the back by the windows, because for some reason he couldn’t see hide nor hair on him from where he was positioned. Dammit. Having tasted defeat and a crick in his neck that was starting to form, he figured it was about time to act like the reliable leader he was and actually pay attention to Six, instead of playing detective. He had caught most of what was said (in choppy detail): Something about the NCR giving out free food and water, but only to their own citizens. That wasn’t something he was too keen on, being the de-facto peacekeeper of Freeside and notably not a member of the Wasteland’s little makeshift government. What he was particularly hung-up on, though, was the detail that the NCR thought his boys roughed up one of their liaisons. Didn’t those fools know what the Kings were all about?
King pinched his temples, “There’s been a big misunderstanding,” He said, “I need you to head out to the old train station and try to defuse the situation. Tell them I’m willing to cooperate.” He figured the diplomatic approach would be the most appropriate. Even though those boot-licking soldier boys weren’t showing his people the proper respect, he couldn’t stoop to their level and demand some kind of tussle; it would just be vindicating their accusations.
Six nodded slowly, shrugged, and agreed to help. They started on their way, and King didn’t notice the way they eyed Pacer as they made their exit. As they left, he heard them call out to their friend, who was still tucked away in the lobby.
“Keep waiting!”
He heard an exasperated sigh. “Okay. Just don’t be long, I sunburn easily.”
He tried his best to hide a soft chuckle under his breath. So, this personality would be hanging around, it seemed. That was absolutely fine; The more, the merrier, as it were.
The King was nothing if not a gentleman, so he took this chance, now that the Courier was gone, to be a proper host and introduce himself. When he crossed the threshold into the lobby, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his mystery guest was actually someone that he recognized from around Freeside. The man stood, slouching on long legs, with arms that awkwardly swayed at his sides. The worn-out lab coat with the crudely-painted cross insignia on the right shoulder was a dead-giveaway that this was a Follower of the Apocalypse– a doctor from down at the Old Mormon Fort nearby. He recognized this Follower from the last time he paid the Fort a visit. He had gone there not long ago– though it wasn’t under the most pleasant circumstances, to be completely honest. The King may have upended a couple tables and knocked a defenseless doctor out cold, so he never got the chance to introduce himself officially to the mystery man when he noticed him hiding amongst the chaos; it was hard to ignore someone so blond. Though the glasses made him look a bit like a square, King recalled him being kinda cute in the brief moment their gazes caught, and he was pleased to see that his memory served him right. He felt a heat rush to the tips of his ears and shook off the thought. Did he still reel with embarrassment because of the whole Fort business, or was it shame that his only impression of this guy was his aesthetic strength? Was it both? Who’s to say.
Anyways, Six must have scooped this cat up fairly recently.