WtDS - Beantown

"You got that right, cher," Mireya said, smiling and nodding in agreement. She knew from experience - living in the city when she'd been with her family and the Brotherhood, and going in and out of there to work - that living in Beantown proper had its benefits. The living conditions were a bit better, the streets were kept clear of snow, and it was a helluva lot brighter. But Steve was certainly right - they didn't have much, but they still had more than a lot of unfortunate souls.

She paused before she got to serving them, finally warm enough to shuck off her coat. She quickly got it hung out of the way, turned off the hot plate and then set to dishing out the beans and the Cram, serving Steve first. Her eyes went over the mask covering his face, the corners of her lips curving upward. "Mmm. Ya may want to take the mask off, 'less you've installed a straw in there since last time I saw you. Don't think we'll get anymore visitors tonight."

She chuckled good naturedly, getting her own plate filled before setting the pot aside, fetching two of the Nuka Cola Cherries and then finally settling down in her own seat with a soft sigh. It had been a long day, and it was nice to just spend the evening with a friend like Steve. She smiles softly over at him, taking up a fork and starting to pick at the Cram, saying, "So, Swaine give you a fair deal on those grenades? Hope it was more than 15 caps each you offered. Thought of those goin' that low made me cringe."

The large woman glanced toward the offered hand, quirking one brow as she seemed to consider her options. She shrugged and took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. Her grip was strong; stronger than one might expect, even given her size. "Katya. Simply Katya will do. The only people who need my last name are usually filling out paperwork for their superiors. Sounds like you're a long way from home, Cotton. What brought you this far north, if you're a "good southern boy", so to speak?"

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Steve chuckled and shrugged, reaching up to loosen the fixtures on his mask. It came off with a bit of effort, as he rarely removed it in the first place, and then he set it aside. Mireya had seen him without his mask a few times; she knew what to expect. Reptile-like eyes, odd-colored yellow to yellow-green skin, scales scattered here and there. He was weird looking, that much he knew. But luckily he had a friend who didn't mind.

He went to work on his dinner, having actually skipped most of his meals that day to get his work done instead. He paused, however, to give her a response. "Oh, yeah. He did right by me. Even twenty caps a piece, and I may get some consideration on scrap and the like from the place where I found 'em. Wish I'd have the heavy lifting and cutting gear I'd need to get into the wreckage to really look around. I think there might've even been an old Plasma Turret under all of that. If the power core was intact, that would've been a great find. Hell, even trashed the parts alone are worth a few hundred caps easy."

At first, the Southerner's grip was rather light. When he felt how firm hers was, though, he tightened it a bit. It was definitely the first time he had ever shook the hand of such a tough-looking woman. "Lookin' for somethin'. But hell, who ain't? Really, it's more like someone. Don't know the feller's name. Don't even know what he looks like, for the most part, just that he's got red eyes." Cotton frowned, a far-off look in his eyes for a moment as he took a moment to think. "Been chasin' after him for a long time. Starting to wonder if I'll ever catch up to him before the ol' Reaper comes an' takes one of us."

Mireya's smile grew just a bit wider as Steve took the mask off. She perfectly understood why he wore it most of the time, agreed with it, since trying to live with other people could get real rough on folks with physical mutations… But it was always nice to have someone you could be yourself with. Mireya was glad that Steve could to that with her.

She grinned, digging into her meal with a little more zeal as she listened to him, nodding in approval at the better deal he got. Her eyebrows rose high at the mention of the Plasma Turret, nearly choking as she swallowed down a mouthful of beans too fast. "A Plasma Turret? Seriously?" She shook her head slightly. "Damn. If I had the equipment I'd definitely lend you a hand, cher. Could probably get together something for cutting with the stuff back at the shop, but I'm S.O.L. on the heavy lifting gear… Damn shame, that. If you're right, the B.o.S.'ll probably find it when they go check it out, and won't be much for anyone else to salvage."

"Red eyes...?" Katya said, quirking a brow as she leaned back against the bench. "Sounds abnormal. Figure he's a mutant of some sort, then? Find a pretty decent number of folks with something "off" around these parts...Must've done something pretty bad for you to chase him this far, this long." Katya didn't pry; she figured she knew when someone didn't want to share, but she still couldn't help but comment. It was a hell of a trip from down south; rough country and wild places that even Bandits wouldn't go half the time.

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"Yeah...Ah well. I've never been rich; probably never will be. Best I can do is take what I can get, right? I can live pretty high on the hog for a while after I get my pay for the grenades. Plus, I've got an inside on a couple of other tidbits I think might interest other merchants around here. You know anyone who might like some pre-war clothes? We're talking crates full, perfect condition. I found an old cargo container at a truck stop, about ten miles out of town. Thing's full of pre-war stuff, most of it junk. But I know it's going to be a bad winter, there were a LOT of clothes."

Steve trailed off, smiling slightly to himself. He hadn't told Swaine about the clothing because...Well, it wasn't Tech. B.o.S. and Enclave troops had no use for "normal" clothes. The best they'd get out of it was good P.R., while Steve could make a killing. Steve figured he could trust Mireya with this particular find, too. Maybe cut her in on the deal, if she could help him. "It's a bit of a slog, but I figure it'd be worth it...Might even find something better in there. Who knows?"

Cotton wrapped his arms about himself, his hands on his shoulders as he leaned forward on the bench. Anything to get warm right now. "Reckon so. That's about one o' the only things he could be. Heard about these machines people can replace bits of themselves with, so maybe he has a pair o' those in his sockets instead. Either way, he ain't normal. I've seen a lotta things in the Wasteland b'fore, but I ain't ever seen no man that can move so fast." The conversation was already starting to dredge up some bitter memories in the older man, his lips falling into a scowl as he starts to drift into his thoughts. Only to be snapped out of it as a trio of men come into view out of the blizzard.

Swaine with his two flunkies, looking rather snowed-over by this point. The BoS officer was on his way back to Beantown, the blizzard having gotten bad enough that he had to break off his round for the time being. He had picked up something on the way, though, judging from the dingy, splintering crate held under his arm. He barely took notice of the two at first as him and the two soldiers made their way past, but when the size of one of the (honestly hard to see at in this weather) two figures sunk in, he turned and peered out under the brim of his hat at them, raising an eyebrow. "Katya?"

"Mm… I think I could definitely think of some folks, cher," Mireya said, a small smirk curving across her lips. Clothes were definitely a major commodity with almost everyone, save the B.o.S. Even if they were pre-war, and maybe not so suitable to the current environment, they could be worn in layers, and pristine? They'd go fast enough, and Steve could certainly make a fair amount of caps from such an acquisition.

She paused in thought over who might be interested, her lips pursing before she nodded. "Know a few merchants in town who'd give ya a fair price if the clothes're in as good condition as you say… An' those Beckerman twins from the ranch outside town are always lookin' for extra gear for their hands... That Eileen Beckerman might buy up what she can just for the material." An even broader smile spreads across her lips. "As to the slog… Maybe I can see 'bout borrowin' something from one of my customers to make getting there and haulin' back any finds just a bit easier."

Katya looked up as someone said her name, eyes widening slightly as a smile curved her lips. She pushed herself into a standing position with a quiet grunt, adjusting her weapon at her side and turning to face Swaine and his men. "Well, if it isn't exactly who I was hoping to see... You look terrible, by the way. Then again, it might just be because everyone here seems to be freezing all the time. I'm looking for work, and quarters. For myself and my associate, Cotton."

Katya added the last part without even glancing toward the other man. She figured she'd help Cotton find a place to stay, and who knows? Maybe he could pull down some work with the Enclave or the Brotherhood and get some info on his "red eyed man".

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"Beckerman...Beckerman...Oh yeah! Those two. I don't see them around much, so I forget they're even there. Hell, they don't buy electronics, scrap or junk as far as I know, so I don't think they've ever even been in here...But yeah, that'd be great. If you can find someone who wouldn't mind helping us haul in some way, I figure we can split the profit."

Steve grinned cheerfully. He liked spending time with Mireya, and he loved making caps. Combining the two was just perfect in his book, and maybe they'd get lucky and find something else while they were there. Unexpected finds weren't uncommon in his line of work.

Swaine readjusted his grip of the crate under his arm, casting a glance at the man with Katya when she mentioned the name 'Cotton'. The old gunslinger gave a small nod, but didn't interrupt. When she finished speaking, Swaine reached up to readjust his hat against the blowing wind before speaking. "Believe me, everyone looks terrible when the weather kicks up in this shithole. Associate, huh? Working with a partner or something for once, Katya? Well, c'mon. I'm not going to stand out in the snow on this side of the Wall for longer than I have to, and we can talk business once we're somewhere that isn't fucking frozen over. And trust me, we've got plenty of business to talk about right now."

Swaine motioned for the two to follow him before he started walking in what was presumably the direction of Beantown, his two guards falling in behind him. Cotton stood up to follow, pausing for a moment as he passed by Katya to offer her a small smile. "Thanks."

"Well, I can't make any promises, cher," Mireya said, her smile falling just a bit. She didn't want to get Steve's hopes up, but she knew she couldn't guarantee a useful ride. "Most civvies lucky enough to have their own workin' vehicle 'round here are reluctant to loan 'em, but I'll see what I can do. Least my work gives me the knowledge of who's got 'em."

Her brows furrowed a little, and she scraped her fork across the plate to collect the last of the beans. She'd eaten her food pretty hastily during their conversation, and a belly full of warm, decent food while talking to a good friend were a pleasant combination. "Mm… Just got somethin' at my garage that might help, if I can get the parts to make her run. Overall solid, but I think someone scavenged most of the good parts under the hood."

Katya offered Cotton a small smirk and a nod. She glanced sidelong as she noticed the people at the "rest stop" watching them go, pausing to offer them a hearty middle finger on the way past. "Think nothing of it; never let it be said charity died with the old world...'Sides, I figure if the work is good here, there'd be plenty of room for two."

She marched along through the snow, somewhat trailing behind Swaine and his guards, keeping pace with Cotton as they moved on through the snow and toward Beantown itself.

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"Psh. Of course; if there's anything useful it gets snapped up. But that's why I'm here, right? Scrap and crap, that's my line of work. I'm sure we can get 'er working just fine with some time and a little love."

Steve offered Mireya a cheerful grin and settled back, just glad to have her company as the wind and snow picked up outside of his modest abode. At least it was warm!

The five of them were headed straight for the 'main' gate of the Wall, their travel taking them past a tall, run-down church wedged in between a couple of other ruined buildings, the whole thing half-collapsed. These days, Tremont Temple Baptist Church was just an 'apartment' building of a sort. A seedy shithole, though its close proximity to the Wall made it a popular place when it comes to the drug trade. Most drugs weren't allowed behind the Wall, but the Temple was close enough to Beantown proper that getting a fix wouldn't take a very long walk. The Wall itself was just right ahead, standing illuminated against the heavy storm and darkness by numerous floodlights along its perimeter. The entire thing was made of scavenged scrap metal, mainly sheets and so on, but there were even a couple of full-sized cars fitted into the thing. The main gate was dead ahead, frequently sporting lines during better times, but right now, the only people were a pair of armed and armored Brotherhood soldiers, standing watch to make sure no one snuck inside. The only other sign of life was a small guardhouse just past the gate, light streaming out from various cracks in the hastily put-up shack.

As Swaine and the rest approached, the soldiers on guard both stood at attention, saluting, the one closest speaking up. "Sir." Swaine just gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "At ease. Get ready to lower the gate, we're probably the last ones who'll be coming through tonight." The soldier gave a brisk nod as the five entered into the real heart of the Enclave in this state, Beantown. Of course, with a blizzard going on much of the luster was lost, but several light posts cast faint glowing spots amidst the haze of the snowstorm, most of which being the very same lights which lit up Boston 5 decades ago, still working today. Though some were replacements, put up as the old ones fell into states that weren't worth repairing. Much of the squalor and decay of Free Bay was absent, from the looks of things most of the buildings were in active use, some of which even pouring light from behind windows, or more often from behind planks used to replace broken windows. The streets were barren, but that wasn't too odd given the circumstances.

"Welcome to the only real speck of civilization that's in this little corner of hell."

Mireya snorts quietly and offers a firm nod. "Got that right, cher. Some time, a li'l love, and a good bit of sweat an' effort. Can't say we don't have all that in spades."

She sighs contently, the sound quickly turning into a yawn that she muffles with her palm. Between the small living space's warmth, a full belly after a long day and relaxing company, the young woman was wearing down. Steve's bed looked especially inviting, and she flashes him a wry, playful smile.

"So… Guess we'll have to settle how I'll pay you back for sharin' your space for the night, mm? Think I've already got somethin' in mind…"

Katya chuckled as Swaine ushered them into the heart of the "city", or what was left of it. She looked around briefly, a smirk gracing her lips as she kept pace with the group and offered a little shake of her head. "The more things change, eh? I remember when a good quarter of these buildings were still empty. Seems you and yours have made real progress into fixing things up. The wall's...What, a quarter mile out from where it used to be? Just moving out and swallowing up "wild" country, one step at a time. Always liked that about your group; making life a little more tolerable...Now if only everyone got an even share."

Katya's opinion of The Enclave and their Brotherhood Allies wasn't unknown to Swaine; she was a mercenary, yes, but she had also been raised in their lifestyle. She'd run from it, and had made a name for herself, but she didn't quite agree with the level of selectivity placed on some citizens. Like mutants, for instance. She knew that if she didn't at least look somewhat normal, they'd have never let her near the wall.

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Steve grinned when Mireya spoke, canting his head slightly and glancing back toward his bed as well. "...Well, if your idea involves a li'l love, and a good bit of sweat and effort, I certainly can't argue with that..."

Steve and Mireya had done this song and dance several times in the past. They both knew where things were going, it was just more fun to tease sometimes than to jump right into bed. Frankly, Mireya was the only woman Steve had ever really been close to, and he liked it that way. She made him feel safe, and she didn't judge. In a lot of ways, she was more than just his best friend.

Swaine looked back over his shoulder at her for a moment before setting his eyes back forward, shrugging. "We're better than most. You know better than I do that a lot of settlements out in the Wasteland would sooner shoot a ghoul or a mutie than look at them twice. Better a slum like Harvard than a bullet between the eyes. Hell, the Enclave was barely ready to make women equal like things were back in the Old World. Let alone to make things equal for everything with half a brain that crawls up out from the Wasteland."

The weary officer stopped a short way ahead before turning to one of the soldiers accompanying them, passing the crate he had been lugging around to the armored soldier. "Drop that off at the Quartermaster's office, I'm done for the night." The soldier nodded as he took the crate, him and the other heading off down a side street. Swaine idly rubbed the arm that had been hefting the crate, looking back over at the mercenary and the gunslinger. "Now, let's see about getting you two some shelter. We can talk business in my office in the morning.

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Night came and went over the frozen city of Boston. The blizzard passed some time just before the break of dawn, and now whatever debris was being cleared, and snow was being shoveled, done by people who had gone through this routine dozens of times before. There was barely a cloud in the sky, and the rising sun was shining brightly, but that did little to stop the oppressive cold of this region.

Swaine had provided Katya and Cotton with a presently-unused room in the officer's barracks, empty ever since the war in Springfield started up some time ago. The place hadn't been lived-in in a very long time, and it showed, from the more-than-usual grime and dirt. The room wasn't much, just four empty lockboxes and a pair of bunks, but at least the lightbulb in the room worked and Swaine was able to wrangle some blankets from somewhere. Cotton had woken up at some point in the night, having a hard time sleeping in such a cold climate, even indoors and with blanketing, however moth-eaten it may be.

The old ranger was sitting on the bottom bunk opposite of Katya's, having worn all of his clothing to sleep save for his coat and scarf for the sake of warmth. One leg hung over the edge as he checked over his revolver, in the midst of replacing the two bullets he fired off yesterday.

In the early hour just after dawn, Mireya began coming out of the depths of unconsciousness - though, in all honesty, she hardly wanted to. Waking up meant getting out of bed, getting dressed, going out to her bike and getting it running, and then hurrying off to her garage to clear the snow away from out front and opening shop. In contrast, the bed and blankets were comparatively warm, snowless, and possibly the most important, had a naked Steve spooning into her backside. Reluctance would dimly describe what she was experiencing.

So for a little bit longer, Mireya kept her eyes clamped shut, and shifted lightly back against Steve's bare front, enjoying the warmth and the sense of contentment that usually enveloped her after a night spent with her friend and lover. She couldn't spend too much time focusing on those simple pleasures, though - before too long, her mind started running over the list of things that needed doing, beginning with seeing if she couldn't supply Steve with anything in the way of assistance for his 'project', and all the tasks that came with that and other jobs she had going.

With a quiet sigh, she let her eyes creep open, but remained still for just a few moments more. Then she slowly started to withdraw from Steve and the sheets, trying her very hardest not to disturb the man beside her. She made it to sitting up and quietly shifting her feet onto the floor, shivering a little as her body was exposed without the sheets. Groggily, she peered about, stifling a yawn and murmuring under her breath, "Where'd my pants get to…?"

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Around that time, on the Freebay side of the Wall, two almost identical young ladies approach with an air of being on the warpath. Eileen Beckerman had an unnaturally stern expression on her face, her stiffly held arms swinging swiftly as she moves along side her sister… And if looks could kill, or at least inflict extreme discomfort, Irene's narrow eyed scowl would have done one or the other. The Tihar hanging from a strap at her side, her hand on the stock hardly did anything to soften that appearance. And neither did having a large, intimidating looking Bighorner lumbering a few steps behind them did not soften their angry air.

They made a direct approach to the B.o.S. station near the gate, Eileen reaching the window first with Irene just a step beside her. She speaks up almost immediately, her voice tone mostly civil with just an edge of acidic ire. "'Scuse us, but we need to speak to somebody immediately about some stolen cattle. Four of our Bighorners were taken in last night's storm."

"Again," growled Irene, just loud enough to be heard. The glare she leveled at the occupant of the station was very well matched by Pimp. Though whether or not he was angrier than usual or intentionally directing his ire was up for debate.

Katya was slow to stir, like a bear waking from hibernation. She'd stripped down to a pair of old, ratty boxers and a wife beater for sleep, as she couldn't stand being too bundled up even in the winter.

With a grunt she sat up in her bunk, the hair on one side of her head askew and her eyes blearily half-closed. A yawn rose from her as she threw the blanket off and stumbled out of bed, staggering to the door on her way to the nearest restroom. She paused briefly at the door, turning to face Cotton and scratching the back of her neck. "Want me to see if there's any coffee or food available in the mess? I could eat a Deathclaw right about now, and I'd kill a Bandit Camp for a cup of Joe."

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Steve, given his lifestyle and past, was not what one would call a heavy sleeper. He didn't awaken immediately when Mireya started to stir, but when she spoke he sat bolt upright and blindly grabbed for his revolver...Which wasn't anywhere nearby. He blinked a few times, looking around in the just-awakened haze before fumbling for his mask in the close dark of the shuttered hut.

"Mmnh...Miry? Mornin'...Time is it?" He said, shifting to climb out of bed...And tangling himself in Mireya's hastily discarded pants, almost face planting as he kicked his way free and pinwheeled his arms. He flopped down into the chair he'd settled in for dinner the night before, naked and half awake, and then leaned down to pick up the pair of trousers. "Looking for these, hon?"

There were a few workers, some Enclave some not, clearing snow from the main path near the front of the Wall's central gate. Most were using proper shovels, though a few were having to make do with shovels that had visibly been made from bent or worked scrap. And when the two twins approached the meager guard shack, most of them gave them and Pimp especially a wide berth. The bored-looking guard inside of the poorly-insulated, scrap-work station was somewhat less alarmed by the sight of a very disgruntled-looking Bighorner than most, though. He was bundled up in the all too commonly seen gray winter coats that members of the Enclave and the Brotherhood tended to wear, along with the other assorted pieces like the caps and so on.

From the looks of things, he was trying to enjoy a cup of coffee and a stained issue of Grognak the Barbarian, and when the twins spoke up, he barely glanced up to even acknowledge them. He tried to flip the page, only to find that the last few were stuck together by whatever grime the magazine might have been exposed to over the past several decades. With a defeated sigh, he dropped it to one side of his desk and finally turned his attention to the two. "No matter how many times we tell you ranchers we're looking into all the missing cattle, you still keep coming here to personally bug the crap out of me. Fine, ladies. Maybe if I start having the officers tell you dirt farmers to shut up, you'll take the hint. I'll radio HQ and see if they're feeling charitable enough to pay attention to something besides the war and send someone to not listen to you. Happy?"

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Cotton set the cylinder of his revolver back into place when he noticed Katya rousing from her slumber, replacing the gun back into its holster now that it was freshly reloaded. "Was thinkin' about doin' the same. Ain't had a good meal in a good while." He reached for his coat before standing up from his worn cot, a thoughtful look coming across his features as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. "... Well, considerin' what I've heard of army food, probably still won't have one for a while." The old gunslinger grinned as he adjusted his holster in place and made sure that everything was still where he left it in his pockets.

Irene's jaw visibly tensed, and the hand on the stock of her rifle clenched at the guard's derisive attitude. Her mismatched eyes were shooting daggers at the man and her lips parted with something sharp and ugly on the tip of her tongue - when Eileen reached over to squeeze her free hand tightly. Irene glanced towards Eileen and was met with a surprisingly sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, to which Irene offered arched brows and a shrug.

Eileen's attention went back to the guard, offering him that dazzling smile as she spoke in a cheery voice. "Oh, yes, we're happy. While you're at it, if you could check and see if Captain Swaine is available? You can tell him that Lieutenant Colonel Beckerman's daughters want to renegotiate our ranch's contract with the Brotherhood. With these thefts going on four months now, and no resolution yet in sight, we just can't foresee keeping up with the demands of both your people and the civilian population for meat and dairy. I'm sure your superiors will be very understanding over losing the resources of one of the largest ranches in the region, and I'm sure the boys in Springfield will get along fine on smaller rations."

She was still smiling pleasantly as she paused, while Irene gave her sister a look mixed with irritation and admiration. Irene didn't care all that much for name dropping, but her sister certainly had a way with words.
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Mireya turned to look at Steve when she felt the bed shift, guessing what he was feeling for and fairly glad that the revolver wasn't too close at hand. Not that she thought he'd ever shoot her, but it certainly was an awkward way to start the day. She started opening her mouth to greet him as well when he'd stumbled into her pants, sucking in a sharp breath and tensing to grab for him if he started to fall. But he regained his balance… Then she swallowed down a snort - Steve wasn't known for balance and grace when he first got up.

"Mmm, yeah cher, those'd be them. Thanks for finding 'em," she said, just a little bit of amusement leaking into her tone as she rose off the bed. She paced over to Steve, taking her trousers from his hand as she leaned over to plant a kiss on top of his head - in the process putting a great deal of soft, dark flesh right in front of his masked face. In a moment she straightened, went to the empty chair where she'd tossed her tops and headed back to sit on the edge of the bed to get them on. "An' good mornin' to you too… I'm pretty sure it's mornin', anyway. Haven't checked, but sounds like the storm's over."

Katya chuckled and nodded, motioning for Cotton to follow along as she wandered out into the hall. She was definitely the least dressed person in sight, but the cold that still permeated the building didn't seem to phase her in the slightest as she trudged down the hall toward the mess.

"Ah, Brotherhood and Enclave food isn't so bad. Could be a hell of a lot worse; it's not irradiated, and they give you enough to fill you up. Might be bland as all hell most of the time, but what can you do? Not easy to grow anything worth a damn this far North in the Winter, and the trade caravans don't often bring peppers and the like up this far. Usually get bought up en route."

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Steve actually giggled when he got a face full of cleavage, blinking a couple of times behind his mask before he grunted and looked around for his own clothes. In short order he'd put himself together, at least somewhat, and shuffled over to one of his windows. He opened the shutter and found...Well, the sun was up (ish. Overcast as hell, per usual), but the window was completely snowed over.

"Huh... Guess I'd better get that power-thawer I cooked up going. Melt down this snow and run it through the filters I set up. Fresh water's always good... you know, once you've freshened it properly. Tab of Rad-X and a shot of RadAway in the decanter and I figure this'll make a couple of decent gallons. One good thing about the winter, I guess. Lots of snow to clean up...So, what's your plan for the day?"

The guard grunted quietly at Eileen, his eyes glazed over with dull boredom and a large amount of indifference. With a drawn-out, irritated sigh, he turned himself around on his stool to face a large set of radio equipment placed against the back wall of the shack on a table. All of it looked pretty old, though reasonably well-maintained. Military hardware was almost always in better shape than one would expect, considering replacements parts weren't exactly still in production these days. As he flicked one of many switches on the equipment, a faint crackle of static could be heard from a speaker on the machine. "Hey, Sparky, you copy?" The crackle over the radio got a little louder before another man spoke up over the other end of it. "Yeah, Sonar, I hear ya."

The guard looked back over his shoulder at the twins before turning back to the radio. "Got a couple of ginger broads down here raising a stink, wanting to see Swaine. More of that cattle crap. If he's in, see if you can patch him through."

"Yeah, sure."

The crackle over the other end faded a bit. The guard took a moment to reach into his pocket for a grimy pack of cigarettes, lighting up while he waited for a reply. It took a couple of minutes, during which the guard was trying his very best to ignore the two women and their bighorner, but eventually the crackle grew louder and Swaine's voice came on over it. "Captain Swaine responding."

The guard blew a thick cloud of smoke out before replying. "Sir, there are two ranchers down here who want to talk to you about cattle rustling that happened last night. They say they're Colonel Beckerman's daughters."

"Fine. Send them to my office."

The crackle softened. Shrugging, the guard switched off the switch he'd flicked before, turning in his seat and blowing out another gout of smoke... more or less right in the direction of the twins. "There. His office is at the Headquarters. You two done bugging the crap out of me now?"

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Cotton wasn't too far behind as he rose from the bed and headed out the door with her. The barracks were pretty empty, to be quite honest, thanks to the time of day and the war. Odds are that only about a quarter of the barracks were housing people these days, with how many soldiers were being funneled into the push against the Supermutants in Springfield. The place wasn't completely empty, but the halls were pretty sparse.

"Hard to appreciate what passes for food up here after livin' off of mostly home cooking back before I set out. Anything is better'n fishing cold pre-war beans out of a can, at least."

Mireya was dressed (if not exactly tidy), and tying the laces on her boots by the time Steve got to the shutters. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the white layered over the window, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she thought about her own home and shop. She was set up just inside the wall, so she probably wouldn't have to dig her way through the streets, but the garage door might need some excavating. As would her bike, probably.

She looked to Steve with a soft smile and a shrug. "See if I can get my bike started, get back to my shop and seein' if ol' Garrison will let us borrow the van he brought me for your project if I can get her runnin'. It needs an overhaul under the hood, but the rest of it's still real solid…" Her smile broadens a little as she stands back up, hands settling on her hips as she continues. "Speaking of, think we can check out your shop in a bit t'see if ya've got anything on my list?"
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"Oh, yes, absolutely satisfied, Sir," Eileen said, with the subtlest trace of sarcasm beneath her pleasant, upbeat tone, ignoring the smoke. "You have a nice day now. Hope it doesn't snow while on duty. C'mon, Irene." With that, Eileen heads off as Irene shoots the officer another sharp look…

Then her nostrils briefly flare, and her lips curve into a very pleasant smile, though perhaps a bit more devious than her sister's. "Good day… And sorry about the mess." She then a quick turn and follows her sister with long strides, with Pimp following at a decent clip and perhaps an air of smugness about the large creature. It almost goes without saying that the Bighorner left behind a "gift" in front of the guard's shack.

Eileen peers over at Irene as the other woman comes up along side her, who's still smirking, then back at Pimp, lets out a soft chuckle and shakes her head. "That was real mature, you two. I swear, I can't bring you anywhere."

"At least nowhere that has condescending assholes in uniforms," Irene murmurs as they briskly make for the B.o.S. Headquarters. "And really? You had to use his name?"

"Hush," her twin soothed. "We need help, and I'm not too proud to use an important relation's name to get things done… Besides, he probably would have jerked us around for a while if I hadn't expedited things, and we don't need to spend the morning freezing our heels with that asshole."

"Mm. Point."

Steve offered a brisk nod as he began rambling around his quarters and collecting the necessary pieces for the quick thawing device he'd need. "Tell you what; let me thaw my place out while you see to your bike. You go get your shop straightened out and whatnot, I'll look for the stuff on your list. We meet up here and figure out where to go from that point on...Ah! There it is!"

Steve reached into a box near his door, pulling out a softly glowing bottle. He gives it a good shake, the contents brightly illuminating. It's an old Rocket Toy, filled with a low grade isotope. Dangerous as all get out for a child to have, but the isotope could be poured into his thawer as a power source. Short lived, but intense energy for a small amount of the fluid, meaning he could set the device up by the window and just let it run itself out. "You'd best get going, Miry. Don't worry about a thing; if I have the parts here, I'll find 'em!"

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"I don't know much about home cooking, I'm afraid. Spend most of my meal time eating out of a can, or depending on where I'm at, out of a mess hall. Speaking of which, I think we're getting close. I smell bad coffee and okay food, which is at least something of a sign."

Katya chuckled and turned through a door, passing from one hall into a small office of some sort, empty save for a battered row of storage crates and a clip board hanging from a hook on one wall. Through the office and out another door, and they were in a larger hall leading toward the Mess. She could see the door from where they stood, and could make out a few people lined up at a counter. "I could eat a Mirelurk right about now."

The mess hall wasn't much to look at, but what was these days? Most of the chairs and tables were mismatched, just whatever could be found one could assume, and in a few cases were improvised. A crate or two, and even a full-sized park bench used for seating. Swaine was in the room, pouring a cup of coffee from a coffee machine that quite frankly looked like it was on its last legs, half of its mass seeming to be duct tape. He was hatless, leaving the fact that he was bald on the scarred side of his head quite visible, though he was still wearing a coat. There was an eyepatch over his right eye right now, and he had a cigarette, noticeably unlit, between his lips. He looked up at Katya and Cotton as they walked in, rolling his eye at the woman's lack of most of her clothing.

Jamming the coffee pot back into the coffee maker (easier said than done, since the machine is so deformed that the pot doesn't even fit fully onto the thing anymore), Swaine made his way over in the direction of the two, pausing just before passing them to speak. "Might have some extra work for you two before we talk Springfield. See me in my office after you get your food. And clothing, Katya. Can't miss it, it is the room with the laser burns through the door." He sputtered a little bit after speaking, raising his arm to cough roughly into his sleeve before heading past them, through the door they just entered from. Cotton shook his head as he moved past the seats and tables towards the counter. "Must've been a hell of a fire, what burned him. Don't understand the eyepatch, though. His eye looked fine last night."

Mireya nods and offers Steve a broad, appreciative smile. She moves in after he's gotten the Rocket Toy in place to start thawing the place out and collecting water, her arms sliding around his waist to give him a swift, firm hug. She rises onto her tip toes and plants a kiss on the side of his neck - a little less awkward than pecking him on the mask - before she draws away and makes for her coat.

"Sure thing, cher. Sounds like we've got ourselves a plan. Maybe I'll see about handling dinner tonight, depending on when I get in," she says as she slides the garment on, then works on goggles, her gloves and cap. Still beaming as she adjusts her goggles over her eyes, she grabs her saddle bags, tossing them over a shoulder as she offers him a playful wave as she heads out the door. "See ya later."

As moved out the door and started going through the snow to her bike, Mireya certainly couldn't help being pleased. Sure, they all lived in a frigid wasteland, but little slices of happiness could still be found, here and there.
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It didn't take terribly long for Eileen, Irene, and their Bighorner escort to reach the B.o.S. Headquarters. They stopped as they met with a guard outside, Irene meeting him with a stern expression and saying, "Irene and Eileen Beckerman. Here to meet with Captain Swaine."

Meanwhile, Eileenturned with a smile to Pimp, running her hand over his head in an affectionate pet as she said, "Now, behave. We don't want to come back to find you full of holes." Pimp gave a dismissive snort and bumped her hand, earning a girlish giggle from the young woman before Eileen turned her attention back to her sister and the guard. He'd gotten word that they were coming and waved them on, and the pair went in, feeling no little relief at being out of the direct cold.

They had been in the B.o.S. Headquarters a few times, mostly to negotiate over supplies from their ranch for the soldiers or on rare visits to see their father. They hadn't heard from him for a few weeks, and hadn't been particularly concerned about it - if he was dead or some other important thing had gone on, they were certain someone would have sent a message. Either way, they had a little familiarity with the layout, but Irene glanced about as they moved down a hall, then to her sister. "You remember which way Captain Swaine's office is?"

"Not far now," Eileen said, though she wasn't entirely certain. It had been several months since the last time they'd come here, and things got busy enough to drive the exact details from her mind. "Well… Maybe we should ask someone. Just to be sure."