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“Do it again,” the Ghoul repeated for the tenth time, barely looking up from stoking the fire. He refused to tell Lucy his name. An honour he claimed she hadn't earned yet.
Lucy ran her fingers through her hair, resisting the temptation to rip it in frustration. She didn't understand the point of this ridiculous exercise. They both pretend that he didn't for the briefest of seconds stroke her hair while he spoke, the way he would pet Dogmeat when she had done something well.
She refuses to acknowledge even to herself that she enjoys these little strokes, Lucy's weakness has always been her need for validation at a job well done.
The weapons that lay on a dirty white sheet were older than even the Ghoul was. Ancient and no good to them in the here and now. But he was determined that she knew how to use them. To know how to strip them down and put them back together again. At least that is what he said, but Lucy suspected he just enjoyed making her do stupid shit from the smirk on his face whenever he got her to perform a task.
“Then I will show where the water is around here.” It's an offer of reward like a dog being asked to perform a trick. Lucy licked her cracked dry lips and began the process again.