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Summary
It was times like these, that made Boone wonder how he'd found himself travelling with Logan.
From an outsiders perspective...the two men seemed like exact opposites. One, a decorated former NCR soldier. A quiet, brooding man with a past he never spoke of...and the other, a loud and downright obnoxious force of nature. A man who made his avid love for blackjack, whores– of the both female and male varieties –and generally debauchery rather public knowledge.
Logan was what many might've called, an absolute fucking degenerate. He had a short temper, loose trigger finger and an even looser belt buckle. He had a pocket full of chems and caps, and probably enough ammunition to take on Caesars Legion solo.
But, against his better judgement, Boone had grown quite fond of the brute in time.
Though...I suppose when you share a bedroll with someone in the expanse of the Mojave for long enough...you find yourself wondering where the lines between you are.