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“You know, it’s kind of your fault,” Elizabeth said, the black canvas bag returning from the depths of one of the bags she lived out of when she was away from Novac. The Ghoul had been left to squirm on the metal pole for a solid thirty-six hours, a long time, even for a Ghoul.
“You think I don’t know that?” He snapped at the much younger redheaded woman. He was sore, tired, he’d lost enough blood that he felt woozy, and guilt was heavy in his gut. “I ain’t actin’ like I’m a hero or somethin’, Lizbeth.”
She surveyed the wound, his tattered blue and gold pearl snap, tooled leather vest, and duster laying over the dresser in the room.
The wound was a through and through, and it seemed to miss his organs… nothing a stimpak or two and some stitches wouldn’t fix.
He would be sore for a few days, though. Which was good. Because he deserved it.
“I can’t believe you did that to her.” She murmured softly, pouring high-proof liquor on a clean rag and pressing it to the wound.
Cooper hissed and reached his hand back for the bottle, bringing it to his mouth and drinking directly from it.
“You doin’ that on purpose?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her mouth pulled into a half-smile. She knew exactly what she was doing. She could have absolutely been more gentle, but she thought he deserved every second of suffering. “You think she’s even gonna stay in that vault?”
Cooper sighed, twitching slightly as she pressed the needle into his skin and began to close the wound. It was a sewing needle, not the best for stitches; the gauge just a little too big, but they had to work with what they had.
“So?”
“So?” He winced as she pulled the thread tight on the first few stitches.
“Yeah, how are you gonna get her back?”
The Ghoul sighed softly, silent. It was uncomfortable, hanging heavy between them. He knew he fucked up.
“Gotta deal with them Deathclaws, I’m thinkin’ maybe Henry,” His voice dripped with malice, “Might be in that Vault 21.” The sign was still visible over the gate, flickering with light occasionally. “Gonna bring her back.” He stopped short of saying back home because he knew that Vault 33 wasn’t home anymore.
“Hm.” She said, focused on the task at hand. “Sounds stupid.”
Elizabeth finished the wound on the back, gesturing for him to lay down so she could get to the front. The front was just a bit smaller, thankfully, but it still made her wrinkle her nose. She wasn’t squeamish, but she could actually see some of his organs.
She reached for the bottle on the nightstand, taking a few mouthfuls and wrinkling her nose in lieu of a chaser. She swung her legs over Cooper’s hips, one knee on each side. First came the makeshift antiseptic, then the needle and thread.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m stupid, darlin’.”