#.int: woodcries ( lidia )

[radiaking]

        "Shootin' the messenger, huh? Sounds like a story there..." It's not the strangest thing to imagine though. Out in the wasteland every job carries a certain level of danger and even a goddamn courier isn't safe from that apparently. Clearly she must've been the bearer of bad news one too many times, which as a bounty hunter he can sort of relate to. He brings a message of sorts to people. "Ain't no such thing as a safe route out here." He's not pessimistic, he's realistic. Nothing stays safe for long.

　　' 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑. ' that was putting it fairly mildly, given all that had happened. but looking back had never been her style. if it was, she might have stayed in new vegas longer. ' but i'm onto new projects. getting from one coast to another has always been a pain; i'm trying to clear out a safe route for caravans. '

[radiaking]

        Old-timers—heh. Well, he can't exactly argue with that. And it makes sense when she says it like that. If this is all you've ever known, it might not all be so bad. But he's got the burden of memory, of knowing what was and what could've been, what ought to be. Maybe ignorance really is bliss in some ways. "Might make you lucky, that's what. So what do you do around here anyway?"

' nah, it's not that bad. maybe to you old-timers who remember things before, but i do pretty well for myself. ' not many could make it as well for themselves as she did and she knew how lucky she was. she wasn't starving or scraping the bottom of her pockets for a few caps to pay for a hotel room. and she certainly knew she could handle more of the rough and tumble types that made the road to new vegas so dangerous. ' i don't know what that makes me. '

[radiaking]

That, he's sure, is the first and last time he'll ever hear someone call him fancy of all things. He doesn't exactly count figures of speech to be elevated speech by any means, but he is very old school in this way. "Hell, huh? You looked around lately?" He asks, taking the cola set beside him, cracking it open with a crisp hiss. "You might be there already."

' fancy. ' most of the types she spent time with didn't dabble much with metaphors, but there were still some in the wasteland. letting out a little sigh, lidia set a nuka-cola by him, saving a sunset sarsparilla for herself as she took a seat on the ground with her back pressed to a rock. ' i was thinking more like the time i got some bad mentats at the gomorrah and thought i'd finally died and gone to hell. '

[radiaking]

        “Huh…” Cooper replied quietly, taken aback by her response. He’d been speaking metaphorically. Though, he supposed technically there was some physical sense to the entity that was Vault-Tec, but a corporation wasn’t tangible. Not in the sense he’d been speaking of.

        But it hardly mattered, as he wasn’t really planning on telling her his whole life story. “I wish,” he answered and took the seat offered. “Was more a figure o’ speech…”

@radiaking sent: i fucked with forces that our eyes can't see. - for lidia

' ...is that some kind of new chem? ' personally, she'd weaned off of them some time after getting shot in the head and getting her brain fully removed ( a blessing in disguise, perhaps. ) and it made it a little easier to keep up with her constant trips from coast to coast. she wasn't sure how she'd manage to come face to face with a centaur if she hadn't been sober.

' you can take a seat, man. i've got a nuka-cola or two in my bags. '