The Inn at The Crossways

[Vault Boy]

Sid looks up from the glass he is polishing and gives Sam the standard once over check out she's used to getting from men.

"Of course little lady! What can old Sid do for ya?"

[Sammy]

"Well Sid," Sammy said, putting her elbows up on the bar and leaning forward, whispering as if telling a secret, "Thing is my business is salvage. That's why I'm headed south. Any how, was wondering if maybe you'd heard of any place that's good for something like that? Or know someone who might know? it would be a big help."

[Vault Boy]

"That's easy enough. Can't give exact directions, but there's an old scrapyard South East of here, but I hear tell it ain't abandoned no more."

Satisfied with his job, he moves on to another glass,

"Or you could try the old garage that's a straight shot South. Those are the two I know of anyhow, but I wouldn't head out by myself if I were in your shoes little missy. Specially if I were such a pretty little thing like you."

[Sammy]

"Well I appreciate you saying so," Sammy said, with fluttering eye lashes, "Who are they saying is at the scrapyard now?" she asked. "And if I did find something good, where would you suggest I take it? Anyone in town who deals with things like that?"

[Vault Boy]

(SPEECH) Sid blushes, and clears his throats.

"Weeeeell, and this could just be nonsense, but the way I hears it, a bad bunch from up north waltzed on in and made it their club house. One of em has some animal name... I forget."

Changing cups again,

"If you want to buy or sell anything in this town, you'll wanna head on over to Jake Mallard's place, just across the way "

[Sammy]

"Well thank you so much," Sammy said, "Town is lucky to have fellow like you keeping tabs on things, and helping out us newcomers, specially with so much bad advice floating around." Sam smiled again, and leaned back from the bar. "If I do go scouting about, you got anything you need that I might be able to bring you?" she asked.

[Vault Boy]

Sid turned beat red,

"Well uh... we could um... always use more booze if you can find it, and the fridge is gonna need a new Fission Battery here pretty soon...bbbbut don't take any risks on my account! I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt on my account!"

[Sammy]

"Well I won't take too many risks, but if I find a fission battery I'll come straight back here," Sammy said, brushing her hair back from over her ear, before tilling her head towards the door. "Alright, well I'll be back around I'm sure, talk to you later Sid." She said with a smile, before sauntering towards the door, and heading for Mallard's place.

[Vincent Rommel]

Vincent sat and the far end of the bar, as far away from the other patrons as he could manage, steadily nursing a tall glass of straight bourbon without much enjoyment. It was irradiated sewage compared to some of the bottles Raven Rock's reserves had boasted.

He did not need to be near the door or even see it to know who came and went. He could hear the vermin, skittering about to and fro. Whether the slight jingle of a hand grenade at a merc's belt or the heavy footsteps of a scavenger loaded with salvage, he had a better idea of what most in this room carried than they did. A lifetime on the run had a way of sharpening the senses.

Thankfully his hunters were rarely subtle, the sound of a power armored boot would be heard minutes before it came crashing through the door to deal death to one of the few that remained of the Brotherhood of Steel's favored prey. He fondly remembered when the roles were reversed and he had been the hunter.

He glanced at the saloon's waitress as she passed by, pulling his worn grey duster tighter in place over his lovingly modified gauss pistol, the last remnant of his old life. It would not suit him well for the sub-humans to see such advanced tech. They'd gaggle of it like a caveman the first time it saw fire, bringing a host of paladins down on him.

Bile rose in his throat as he looked at the waitress. He was sure most men in here saw her as desirable breeding stock. Some likely paid her a few caps to spread her legs at night. He only saw impurities and ignorance, worthy of only being worked or purged. Vincent washed down the bile with the whiskey, a grimace on his face.

[Vault Boy]

Beth notices Vincent's empty glass,

"Can I get you a refill handsome? You look awful thirsty."

[Vincent Rommel]

Vincent dissects her with his cold grey eyes as if inspecting a worm. It was times like this he missed his tesla armor, that was left to rust somewhere in the wastes when he fled. No one tended to approach you for small talk when you're wearing enclave power armor.

"You have a keen eye for the obvious, my dear. That must come in handy in such important line of work.." he patronized with a false smile. "Best bring the bottle. I've had a long journey."

[Vault Boy]

The waitress looks shaken and hurt,

"I....y-yes." Says, and then hurries off at a quickened pace,

Vincent notices that he has earned a few stares and scowls from nearby patrons.

(-5 Karma)

[Vincent Rommel]

He favors them with the same sly smile, raising his glass in mock toast before draining the remainder of its contents. With his other hand he loosened up his fingers, the leather in his gloves tightening over his knuckles.

[Vault Boy]

The waitress returns with the bottle.

"30 Caps." She says curtly.

[Vincent Rommel]

Vincent considered the price for a second before going into his pack and tossing the caps on the bar before him. He planned to drink until he forgot the names of his dead squad mates and that need took precedence over any financial sense.

He missed the paper money he'd used in the civilization of the Enclave. Major Rommel had been well off then, wanting for nothing. He detested having to scrounge and scrape for a few dirty bottle caps.

"Anyone looking for some work done in this town? I'm not too picky what it entails."