Gotta stop looking in those funhouse mirrors, Ric.
Jackpot level caps and a month of living the high life in the Gomorrah suite with all the trimmings.
[Connor doesn't have the patience for mental subterfuge making it safe to say she's not lying about the goods. The difficulty on the other hand, well, her captivity for violence is just shy of legendary.]
Don't care for the suite or the pussy and I reckon that makes a 70/30 split on the caps fair.
The hell? Did this deathclaw eat Big Sal's favorite girl or something?
[Now that's a score. And an even enough split for compensation - Conner doesn't have the, let's say, temperament for extensive negotiations, so her offers are always fair enough at the starting point.]
Sounds like fun. Throw in the cost of materials for explosives, and I'm in.
Nah, the old girl had the audacity to have nested in a newly proposed Gun Runner's trade route. Also means it's a rush job, so I'll cover the cost of your materials.
NO MINI NUKES. <-- NO EXCEPTIONS. TELL ME YOU WILL COMPLY.
[Not that she waits to send him the coordinates. If need be they can settle the dispute with friendly fire. Wouldn't be the first time.]
[π killjoy. That was one time. But at least the opportunity to get in good with the Gun Runners lifts his spirits. Even better.]
I'll bring my best. Swing by Isaac on the way too, see if I can get him to loan us any ordnance for the job. You bringing a rifle or shotgun to the party?
she knows his type! ya know the just TO WATCH IT BURN kind of guy XD
You yelled fire in the hole after it exploded. AFTER.
[which might have been forgivable if she hadn't spent the next three days trying to keep her insides from becoming outsides even after all the goddamn rad-away]
Golly, that's mighty sweet of you. Both - am partial to extra armor piercing rounds for the rifle. This bitch is ancient and her hide is thick.
[Welp. Now is when Conner takes a deep breath, counts to ten and briefly weighs the pros vs the pros (hur hur hur) of shooting Rico on sight. Truth to tell it was a bit of a daydream, a smidge of a fantasy that she dare not speak out loud as the son of the bitch would only get impossibly more smug. Besides, Deathclaw hunting isn't meant to be done solo and when in need, who better than the devil you know.
She's perched on the roof of a crumbling, picked over Red Rocket gas station like a goddamn wasteland gargoyle watching the line of dust Rico's bike kicks up as he approaches. When he's close enough she sets the laser sight of her rifle at the center of his chest in greeting. You know, how you always say hi to your friends in the Mojave.]
Always arrivin' like there's a fucking parade waiting. [Half mumbled, half spit as she clambers down from her nest.]
[Always making an entrance like there's a lineup of people cheering just for him and ready to kiss his ass, yeah. The whites of Rico's teeth are visible through the scope as he grins at noticing Conner on the roof aiming her rifle right at him. He doesn't take it personally. It's just Conner being friendly, as usual. He makes an entire show of looking surprised as he glances down, briefly pantomiming trying to swat the red dot off his chest with one hand as if it's a fly.
And then laughs at his own joke, as usual, before gunning it with a roar of his engine. He slides to a dramatic stop as he reaches the gas station, kicking up rocks, dirt, and dust in a chaotic, crunching sweep.]
Missed you too, Connie. [he drawls, patently amused as she approaches, as he draws a battered box of ammunition from his belt pouch and flips it in his hand.] Don't shoot me - I come bearing gifts.
[Jesus-H-Christ-good-lord-almighty, it's the same thought, every god damn time she sets eyes on Rico. The man is a walking spectacle that makes something in the back of her head itch and her hands twitch, she's never sure what she's supposed to do - strangle him? Inflict him on some unsuspecting innocents? Yep, Conner's got a lot of internal struggles that are never made apparent. Woman is preternatural calm, still as the Mojave air in the afternoon heat.]
You know [she lifts a hand, thinks better of trying to make a grab and lets it drop] it's only a gift if you plan on giving.
[Conner was pretty smart to drop her hand, because playing keepaway with somebody who's eight inches shorter than you is hilariously trivial. Rico waggles the ammo box, then tosses it to her instead - one of these days she's actually going to kill him, but not today.]
.308 armor piercing is all I could get you. Cheapskate wouldnβt lend me a grenade rifle.
[She catches it and stuffs it away so quick you'd think she was a magician. You didn't survive the Wasteland by being slow and Rico, well, his moods changed faster than the reels on a slot machine. If she's bothered by lack of heavy firepower it doesn't show, hell she was even a might grateful given their past history with explosives (nuclear and non).]
That your way of saying you didn't bring your own favors to the party? [As it's no secret that Conner is always modding making her guns more fun than most and she's even been known to share on occasion. Hard to say if this was one of her more giving moments as she was currently looking up at Rico as if she had finally become aware of their height difference and wondering if his mother had fucked a Super Mutant.]
[If asked, his mother did not fuck a super mutant. Thank you.]
Course not. [Almost offended at the thought, he reaches over to open a saddlebag hanging off the side of his motorcycle and fishes out a cluster of microfusion cell grenades, all tied together in a tangle of debatably mad genius, before dropping it back in with a grin. Not a mini-nuke, but the second best thing. By the sound of the clinking in the bag, itβs not the only party favor in there.]
I said Iβd bring my best, didnβt I? Solid slugs for my twelve gauge, too.
[His beloved - and equally modified - riot shotgun, which he keeps on his bike when he needs the extra firepower on serious jobs, unless itβs slung over his shoulder.]
[In rare show of emotion Conner's eyebrows go up a fraction at the sight of the grenades. Part of her is keen to get her hands on it to see the method to the madness while the rest of her debates the merits of getting close enough to the Deathclaw to toss it. Being a good little adrenaline junkie meant that Conner wasn't entirely risk adverse though mutated beasts often gave her pause.]
Alright then [the words come out in a slow, tumbleweed drawl as the greater part of her says fuck it, the job has gotta get done.]
She's a little less than a mile out. We'll be upwind on our approach, suppose we can be back on The Strip tonight if we're feeling efficient.
Alright. Celebratory drinks at the Tops by sundown.
[Easy-peasy. The range on those grenades go further than you'd think - he has one hell of a throwing arm. And other useful things such as remote detonators. If there's one thing he prides himself on, it's adapting to a situation as he gets there. Rico dusts off his hands with a brisk motion, confident. And then pauses.]
[Well now, it's the kind of question that hits the right spot and Conner's version of a grin, wide, all teeth and on the edge of manic makes an appearance.]
Now why would I joke about a thing like that. [Because she would and because she could be as serious as a heart attack. Conner and Rico had things in common even if she wasn't the spectacle he was. She didn't lose sleep putting others in harms way as a means to an end, sure she was a tad more careful with her companions but that didn't mean she wouldn't push. Besides it wasn't everyday Rico betrayed his bravado with uncertainty (slight, barely thing it might be.]
'Sides I remember you being able to throw pretty far. [Brief, hard clap to his shoulder as she takes a step forward. She'd make it a point to stay behind him the closer they got as there are some lessons Conner only needed to learn once.]
[Now that's a smile. All teeth. Rico's pretty fond of it - she's fucking crazy. They work together pretty well, mini-nuke related mishaps aside. Hard to find a reliable - but more importantly, competent - pinch-hitter for the occasional two-person job, while still remaining independent. Reason enough to not throw each other to the wolves. Well, up to a point anyway. They both know that they each look out for number one, after all. No hard feelings.
He tilts his head down at her slightly as she walks into his space.]
Alright, hitch a ride. We'll get as close as we can, and scope out the site. See if we can't find you a nice perch to sit pretty in while I end up doing all the work.
[It never fails to get to her, the goddamn 'Connie' makes her bristle, makes her face scrunch in a momentary lapse of control that is all irritation heavily sprinkled with resentment because she will never NOT react to it and the son-of-a-bitch Rico knows it.]
Suppose it's a good a plan as any. [It's not a habit, though she isn't a stranger to "riding bitch" as Rico calls it. She smirks before taking her seat, adjusting the sniper rifle so it's more comfortably slung across her back.] Don't have the hardware to make this a spray and pray.
[Though that particular job had it's highlights, the high raider body count being one of them.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
judgementcrime) wrote2000-08-20 11:21 am
ηΏ courier5 ηΏ
[That's because Conner would be right. He's pulled that one before.]
So very.
You know me, Connie. I'm always looking for something interesting to do.
ty for moving!
Got a bounty on a mother Deathclaw. Could use another gun or in your case - bait.
no subject
I'm too pretty to play bait.
What's the take?
no subject
Jackpot level caps and a month of living the high life in the Gomorrah suite with all the trimmings.
[Connor doesn't have the patience for mental subterfuge making it safe to say she's not lying about the goods. The difficulty on the other hand, well, her captivity for violence is just shy of legendary.]
Don't care for the suite or the pussy and I reckon that makes a 70/30 split on the caps fair.
no subject
[Now that's a score. And an even enough split for compensation - Conner doesn't have the, let's say, temperament for extensive negotiations, so her offers are always fair enough at the starting point.]
Sounds like fun. Throw in the cost of materials for explosives, and I'm in.
:)
no subject
NO MINI NUKES. <-- NO EXCEPTIONS. TELL ME YOU WILL COMPLY.
[Not that she waits to send him the coordinates. If need be they can settle the dispute with friendly fire. Wouldn't be the first time.]
ok I laughed
[π killjoy. That was one time. But at least the opportunity to get in good with the Gun Runners lifts his spirits. Even better.]
I'll bring my best. Swing by Isaac on the way too, see if I can get him to loan us any ordnance for the job. You bringing a rifle or shotgun to the party?
she knows his type! ya know the just TO WATCH IT BURN kind of guy XD
[which might have been forgivable if she hadn't spent the next three days trying to keep her insides from becoming outsides even after all the goddamn rad-away]
Golly, that's mighty sweet of you. Both - am partial to extra armor piercing rounds for the rifle. This bitch is ancient and her hide is thick.
no subject
[Not terribly repentant, this one.]
Sweet as a sugar bomb, that's me alright. I'll see what I can score :) Catch you there, sweetheart.
[ - Is what he signs off with, because he knows it annoys the everloving fuck out of Conner when he does.]
not gonna lie I keep LOLing
She's perched on the roof of a crumbling, picked over Red Rocket gas station like a goddamn wasteland gargoyle watching the line of dust Rico's bike kicks up as he approaches. When he's close enough she sets the laser sight of her rifle at the center of his chest in greeting. You know, how you always say hi to your friends in the Mojave.]
Always arrivin' like there's a fucking parade waiting. [Half mumbled, half spit as she clambers down from her nest.]
no subject
And then laughs at his own joke, as usual, before gunning it with a roar of his engine. He slides to a dramatic stop as he reaches the gas station, kicking up rocks, dirt, and dust in a chaotic, crunching sweep.]
Missed you too, Connie. [he drawls, patently amused as she approaches, as he draws a battered box of ammunition from his belt pouch and flips it in his hand.] Don't shoot me - I come bearing gifts.
no subject
You know [she lifts a hand, thinks better of trying to make a grab and lets it drop] it's only a gift if you plan on giving.
no subject
[Conner was pretty smart to drop her hand, because playing keepaway with somebody who's eight inches shorter than you is hilariously trivial. Rico waggles the ammo box, then tosses it to her instead - one of these days she's actually going to kill him, but not today.]
.308 armor piercing is all I could get you. Cheapskate wouldnβt lend me a grenade rifle.
no subject
That your way of saying you didn't bring your own favors to the party? [As it's no secret that Conner is always modding making her guns more fun than most and she's even been known to share on occasion. Hard to say if this was one of her more giving moments as she was currently looking up at Rico as if she had finally become aware of their height difference and wondering if his mother had fucked a Super Mutant.]
no subject
Course not. [Almost offended at the thought, he reaches over to open a saddlebag hanging off the side of his motorcycle and fishes out a cluster of microfusion cell grenades, all tied together in a tangle of debatably mad genius, before dropping it back in with a grin. Not a mini-nuke, but the second best thing. By the sound of the clinking in the bag, itβs not the only party favor in there.]
I said Iβd bring my best, didnβt I? Solid slugs for my twelve gauge, too.
[His beloved - and equally modified - riot shotgun, which he keeps on his bike when he needs the extra firepower on serious jobs, unless itβs slung over his shoulder.]
no subject
Alright then [the words come out in a slow, tumbleweed drawl as the greater part of her says fuck it, the job has gotta get done.]
She's a little less than a mile out. We'll be upwind on our approach, suppose we can be back on The Strip tonight if we're feeling efficient.
no subject
[Easy-peasy. The range on those grenades go further than you'd think - he has one hell of a throwing arm. And other useful things such as remote detonators. If there's one thing he prides himself on, it's adapting to a situation as he gets there. Rico dusts off his hands with a brisk motion, confident. And then pauses.]
So... how serious were you about me being bait?
no subject
Now why would I joke about a thing like that. [Because she would and because she could be as serious as a heart attack. Conner and Rico had things in common even if she wasn't the spectacle he was. She didn't lose sleep putting others in harms way as a means to an end, sure she was a tad more careful with her companions but that didn't mean she wouldn't push. Besides it wasn't everyday Rico betrayed his bravado with uncertainty (slight, barely thing it might be.]
'Sides I remember you being able to throw pretty far. [Brief, hard clap to his shoulder as she takes a step forward. She'd make it a point to stay behind him the closer they got as there are some lessons Conner only needed to learn once.]
no subject
[Now that's a smile. All teeth. Rico's pretty fond of it - she's fucking crazy. They work together pretty well, mini-nuke related mishaps aside. Hard to find a reliable - but more importantly, competent - pinch-hitter for the occasional two-person job, while still remaining independent. Reason enough to not throw each other to the wolves. Well, up to a point anyway. They both know that they each look out for number one, after all. No hard feelings.
He tilts his head down at her slightly as she walks into his space.]
Alright, hitch a ride. We'll get as close as we can, and scope out the site. See if we can't find you a nice perch to sit pretty in while I end up doing all the work.
no subject
Suppose it's a good a plan as any. [It's not a habit, though she isn't a stranger to "riding bitch" as Rico calls it. She smirks before taking her seat, adjusting the sniper rifle so it's more comfortably slung across her back.] Don't have the hardware to make this a spray and pray.
[Though that particular job had it's highlights, the high raider body count being one of them.]