Craterside Supply
Sweating like a bull and largely out of breath, Jonathan reached the door to Craterside Supply, and was relieved to see they were still open. Taking a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off his face, Jonathan took a deep breath and entered the establisment.
"Sorry! We're closing!" Moira exclaimed as he entered, her voice energetic yet apologetic at the same time,
"Oh, Bob! Everything alright? Your face is all red- Have you been running?"
"Yes, Moira, I've been running in hope I'd catch you before you closed the place. Sorry to ask you this now, but do you have any female clothes for sale? It's kind of an emergency."
"Female clothes? Sorry, you're out of luck on that one. Used to have Vault Jumpsuits on sale, but those are long gone. Would you prefer some armor instead?"
"Considering that I also am waiting on those Pip-Boy spare parts," Jonathan said, disappointed, "I, uh, don't think I can afford that much."
Damn, he thought to himself, his face having turned sour. Without clothing, Kristin would have to content with Jonathan's duster, and Jonathan would have to content with Kristin wearing nothing but his duster. He wasn't certain which one felt were in the worse position. Probably him. No,
definately him.
"Although..." hummed Moira thinkingly,
"If you're really so desperate... I do have some... uh... you could call them clothes, I suppose..."
Jonatha's face jolted upwards, lit up by this hopeful cry.
"But, well, they aren't really-"
"I'll take them. Thank you." interrupted Jonathan. At this point, even damaged clothing were better than no clothes at all. After tonight, they'd wash the clothes, so the Princess would be able to go back to wearing her blinding silver armour.
"But you haven't even-"
"Trust me, anything will do. Put them on my tab when I come pay for the parts tomorrow."
"If you say so..." finished Moira hesitantly, before heading to the back of the story to fetch the clothes, leavinh Jonathan to think.
What about? Jon wasn't sure either. He wasn't sure how to react to the way the princess acted, or what to expect out of her, or what she expected from him. Her behaviour had been chaotic and random, completely incomprehensible to a man of rationality like him. In this whorl of disconnected thoughts and anxieties, right in the center of the storm, lay one question:
Could she actually like him?
That way?
Jonathan wasn't sure if that would be a good thing. Letting out an irritated sigh, he started looking around as a way to occupy himself. It was then he noticed a large, body-sized mirror put on display at the right corner of the shop, probably for people interested in decorating their home. Fuelled as he was by long-burried insecurities now arisen again, he couldn't resist taking a look at himself.
Jonathan had stopped paying attention to his looks a long time ago. And it showed, becayse boy, did he look like shit. His stubble, long left unshaved, had grown into a dirty unkempt mess of an almost-beard, and his hair, noticably starting balding on the sides and giving him a widows peak, was oily enough that you'd have enough oil to pass a month if extracted. He was thin, but not the attractive kind. More like the malnourished kind. And his skin had started hanging due to old age...
So, what the hell did she see in him?
If she ever saw anything in him. Kristin Blamco, with a body like hers, could have any man with applicable sexual orientation she wanted. There surely were more attractive men out there. So why him? If. Never forget that you're talking hypothetically. But even
if she saw anything in him, in what way? What could that... display of hers mean? Was it an attempt to entice him? If so, did that mean she only wanted him for the sex?
That last thought tightened the pressure he was feeling on his chest. And also made him feel... disappointed in a way. But mostly made him anxious. Sex. How long had it been since last time? Shit, he couldn't even remember that much. And even back then, one couldn't say that he was exactly
good at it, either. Mediocre at best. His wife certainly didn't marry him for that. Or love. Or any basic human compassion.
But yeah... Sex. How experienced was Kristin, anyway? Was she the kind of princess that would wait for her prince to appear, galloping on his steed, to take her to the land of Happily-Ever-After? Considering her actions at the bomb, that one could be ruled out. Promiscuous, then? Shit, that thought made the pressure feel like it was crashing his chest. With her looks, she must have gotten some really... pleasurable partners. No way he could compete with that. And she expected him to?
Shit shit shit shit
The anxiety was getting to him, his breathing becoming more frantic.. Disgruntled, he turned away from the mirror, desperately looking around the store for something to occupy his mind.
It was then that he noticed it.
Oh? Could it be?
"Right, here they- Oh, you're the first person to pay attention to that!" Moira said as she returned from the back holding a paper bag, noticing Jonathan examining it from up close, much like one would expect from an engineer exanining a crack on a bridge of a major metropolitan area.
On a shelf next to the counter, in a glass full of water, lay a flower.
"Where did you... is this an actual, genuine rose?"
"Sure is! It came with the guy that gave me the... clothes you want. Strange fellow. Starving aswell. Gave me the clothes and the rose in exchange for some food. I wouldn't normally accept that deal, but he looked desperate and I felt bad for him."
Rose. Eternal symbol of romance. Jonathan wondered if whatever gods that were laughing at his misery were taunting him or giving him a break. If a night of passion was what Kristin Blamco wanted, then Jonathan would have to indulge her. But did it truly have to go that way? Perhaps...
"Mind if I take it?"
"Oh, go ahead. You've helped the town before, and you're a good customer. Least I could do to pay you back."
Gently grabbing it with his hand, Jonathan examined for a few more moments before placing it in his shirt's chest pocket and picking up the bag with the clothes, not bothering to see what was inside.
"Thank you." he said sincerely, and walked out.
[hr]
Outside Moriarty's Saloon.
Having picked up his things from the bomb, Jonathan made for the saloon. He stood outside for a good few minutes staring at the sign, hesitant to take even a step closer, trying to muster enough courage for whatever awaited him inside. Part of it was because he wasn't sure
what awaited him inside. Kristin Blamco had changed her disposition of him several times during the day. Did she want to bed him? Ridicule him?
Murder him? Something else entirely? No idea!
You know, just standing there isn't going to get you anywhere.
*sigh*
Of course it would appear now. It always appeared when he didn't want it to. Standing next to him with its arms folded, the Stranger stared a most pierching of stares, even if Jonathan couldn't see even a hint of its face.
"Can't a man get a moment of peace?" he snapped, annoyed at the visage's sudden appearance.
If you were having a moment of peace, I wouldn't be here, the stranger said, its voice deadpan, hiding all emotion,
What exactly keeps you from walking in?
"I don't know what I'm walking into."
Hasn't stopped you before. Try again.
"Look... This situation requires caution. If things don't go well-"
Why do you think they won't?
"You've seen her, haven't you? I can't make sense of her!"
Then what's the point in think about it, when you won't figure anything out?
"You're really getting on my nerves," Jonathan let out in a low growl, massaging his forehead in an attempt to try and calm down.
You're afraid, aren't you?
He let out a deep sigh. "Looks to me like you already know the answer to that question."
Why?
"I told you, didn't I? She's stuck with me. After the way today passed, tonight may be my way to make things up to her. And if that means we'll have to do
that... well, I'll just have to roll with it."
And you don't want that?
"Look, I'm not gonna lie... She is probably the sexiest woman I've seen in my life. Part of me does want it... But I mostly really don't."
Why not?
"I've never been good at it."
What makes you think she has high expectations?
"You're kidding me, right? With her looks, she could have any man she wants. I bet the majority of them were better than me."
Pretty presumptious of you, to think of her that way.
"
Presumptious? Pleeeaaaase. The woman
undressed in front of me. Doesn't she strike you as the kind to get what she wants, when she wants it?"
If it bothers you so much, why not try and work things out some other way?
"I told you. She's the kind of person to get what she wants. I'll try, but if I can't change her mind I'd have no choice, unless I wanted to incur her wrath again."
You don't know that.
"I KNOW I don't know!" Jonathan lashed out in anger, "I don't know ANYTHING! First she tries to kill me, then she acts like we're best friends, then she snaps at me and hates me, and now she wants me to
fuck her?! How the hell am I supposed to make sense of her?
She's completely incomprehensible!
Frantic deep breaths followed as an attempt to calm down. All they did was make him feel miserable.
"I try, you know?" he said again, his voice shaken and sorrowful, as though he was on the verge of tears "I really, really do try to be helpful to her... Because I got her into this mess in the first place. Yet... How can you help someone you can't understand? That seems to hate you more the more you try to appease her? She's... just... so... UAAAAAARG!"
With that exasperated growl, Jonathan seemingly collected himself again, taking a deep breath.
"Screw it. I'm going in. And whatever happens... Happens." he finished, his voice much more collected, as he walked into the Saloon.
[hr]
Second Floor, First Bedroom
Jonathan did not like the way Moriarty grinned at him as he told him the location of the woman he described, but he couldn't let what a lecherous bastard like him did get to him. He had bigger, more serious things to worry about.
He stood in front of the door hesitantly for a few seconds, before mustering enough courage to walk in. He was rather annoyed that the doorhandle was unlocked; didn't she plan for intruders beforehand? Ah whatever, trying to make sense of her now was a tad too late.
"Miss... Kristin?" he inquired as he opened the door, to alert her that he had arrived. No response. Things were silent, and the room, dimly lit. He didn't like this one bit.
"Miss..." he started once again as he walked further in, only to be interrupted by what awaited him in bed. Kristin Blamco was laying in bed, her bare chest exposed for all the world to see. Jonathan barely held his hand from reflexively breaking his nose, but he couldn't stop himself from staring for a few seconds.
Could she be pretending to be asleep? Surely that was the case, considering she was supposed to be waiting for him to "talk". That's how she wanted it to begin, then? With him undressing and crawling next to her, to "wake" her up from her "sleep"? To be fair, her tastes seemed tamer than he was expecting. No matter, the big question was: Should he indulge her or not? If he didn't, he was afraid she'd snap at him immediately.
Audaces Fortuna Iuvat.
"Miss Kristin." he said firmly, somewhat loudly. As he did, he looked away from her, not wanting to stare again while she was "awake". And "awake" she did. She didn't snap at him for ruining her fantasy. That was good.
"I have brought you clothes," he continued a similar deadpan way, still not looking at her, "I'm sorry if they aren't of the best condition, they were the best I could get at such a time." he continued as he put the paper bag on the bed, next to her feet.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll be in the bathroom. I need to change my clothes." He finished, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
