darkSpyro

Hearing the boy's relay, she nodded. "Good." That was... better than she had expected, really. She was still under the impression that he had left wherever it was in a mad dash, so the fact that he had anything on his person was a relief to know. Taking a moment to look through her own pockets, she was only able to find a handful of bottle caps. Everything else was laden down with ammunition and a couple of stimpaks. Well, it wasn't as if she needed much else. But now that she had this kid to look after, she'd have to change her priorities. "I don't have much money," she admitted. "And clothes can be expensive."

At the ghoul's admission that he didn't have much money on his person, the boy frowned slightly. He didn't have so much as a single denarius to his name. Even if he had, he would have been forced to part with them in favor of maintaining his anonymity. Couldn't have someone finding Legion currency in his pockets. And he was completely ignorant of what currency was used by the profligates. Was it paper? He didn't know.

"I can manage in these clothes," he said rather unconvincingly. It was a miracle had hadn't tripped over himself yet, or lost a boot, which were too big for him as everything else was.

Taking the boy's silence on the matter as a lacking on his part as well, Red shook her head in disagreement. "No. The last thing you want is to be tripping over that thing in a showdown." Thinking for a moment, she figured, "We should be able to trade that for something your size."

Assuming they have something my size. Realizing he might end up walking out of here in clothes meant for a child, he frowned distastefully. They had managed to get him Legion armor that fit him, why was it so difficult to find clothes that fit him in this profligate land? All the same, he nodded his agreement, for the ghoul was right. He couldn't go tripping over himself in the middle of a fight.

Looking around the town, he asked, "Do you think they trade with anyone who comes here?" His question was quickly answered, however, when he caught sight of a trader and their pack brahmin near the edge of town. Gesturing to them, he said simply, "Look."

Before she could give a response, the boy pointed at something past the houses and in the distance. After seeing what it was, she nodded, and without a word marched in the trader's direction. When she reached them, she asked, "Pardon us. Are you selling?"

"Of course," replied the woman, tipping her hat and gesturing toward her pack brahmin. "Here's what I got."

When the boy approached the trader, a thought occurred to him. The Legion would want this woman dead. Traders like these supported the NCR's means of trade. Cutting off such a trade route would be detrimental to the NCR, and thus favorable for the Legion. However, with the ghoul at his side and countless profligate troops surrounding him, this woman wouldn't be meeting her fate anytime soon. So he resigned himself to simply standing quietly at the ghoul's side, his eyes scanning over the clothes that were available.

After browsing through the trader's inventory, oblivious to the rather murderous thoughts of her companion, Red eventually came to say, "Do you happen to have anything in," she gestured at the boy, "his size?"

The trader eyed the boy at Red's words, her gaze rather piercing, which the boy did not particularly like. It was hard to tell just what the boy's dimensions were with his clothes hanging off his body the way they were. Approaching him and tugging at his clothing so that it clung to his form, she looked him over, the boy protesting all the while, before walking back to her brahmin and fishing out a smaller version of a wasteland wanderer outfit. "This should do," she said.

After watching the trader's analysis and the boy's less than favorable reaction rather numbly, Red examined the offered outfit from her spot quietly. "How about a trade? That one for his?"

The trader pretended to consider the offer. What was there to consider, really? More people would fit the outfit the boy was currently wearing. She'd been unable to find a buyer for the one these folks were interested in for quite some time. So it was a bit of a no brainer. She was getting the better end of the deal. Still, she took a moment to make it seem as if it wasn't a no brainer, and once she was done pretending to think on it, she said, "Sounds like a deal to me."

The boy was relieved, though he didn't let it show. Proper fitting clothes would go a long way for him in terms of being able to maneuver effectively. Of course, there was still his bad leg hindering him, the thought of which made him frown, but nothing could be done about that now.

A thought occurring to him, he asked, "Is there somewhere I can change? The church, maybe?" There were some things he'd rather his present company didn't see, his almost-nude body being one of them.

Thinking for a moment, the ghoul answered, "I... think there were stalls in the church?" She hadn't exactly scouted the building, or even needed to go to such an accommodation, at least not for that night. Shrugging, she resigned to say, "There's probably something there." After that, she turned to the trader again. "If it's not a bother, do you mind telling me a bit about this place?"

The boy didn't particularly care if there were stalls in the church or not. Either way, he wasn't changing out here in the middle of the camp in front of a man and a woman. Taking the new clothes from the trader, he trotted back towards the church, checking every square inch of it before undressing.

"Camp Searchlight? Or the Mojave in general? Where you from?" the trader asked, as knowing if the man was from here or not would tell her what he wanted to know of the place.

Name: Mysterious Stranger (Real name is only listed in classified documents)

Age: 24

Gender: Female (Pretends to be male)

Race: Human

Faction: New California Republic

Personality: Her personality, or rather lack thereof, is a combination of a general disinterest in the world around her and years and years working solo as a ranger in the NCR, performing tasks that would either make a person question their morality, or simply go insane from boredom, loneliness, etc. She has a strong sense of professionalism, and its very clear where he loyalties lie and what she thinks of betrayal. While she fails to come off as caring or heartwarming, she is confident of herself in conversation to allow allies to be aware that she takes their faction seriously and enemies know that she is not to be taken lightly. She has a bizarre habit of identifying as a male persona. While the reasons are fairly unclear, the most known is that she does not internally identify as male (she doesn't feel like a man trapped in a woman's body or anything) in any way. While her official documents state very clearly she is female, she strictly requires all allies who know her true gender to treat her as though she were a man. She wishes people to use the 'he' pronoun in reference to her and likes male themed titles like 'sir' to be used when speaking to her. She goes as far as to speak in a fake male voice and boldly proclaim her male gender to others. Thus far, she seems satisfied in the sheer number of people that believe the veteran ranger known only as Mysterious Stranger (Stranger for short at times) is truly male.

Appearance: The Stranger stands at 5'9" in height and has a rather undefined body shape - though she is by no means out of shape. Lacking a curvacious body and having a small chest, it would be difficult to notice the difference in gender even if she weren't constantly wearing full body armour. In order to best keep up the ruse of being a man, her attire at any moment in time is the standard NCR Ranger Combat Armour with the corresponding helmet to match. She has not made any noticeable alterations to the outfit. She never removes or changes the attire, especially the helmet. Her weaponry consists of an old sniper rifle strapped to her back, but she primarily makes use of a ranger sequoia that hides within the folds of her armour. She also keeps a small combat knife nestled close to her ranger sequoia, but only makes use of it in absolute emergencies. Underneath the army is a very pale skinned individual with faded green eyes and black hair cut to be no more than an inch in length to appear masculine - not that she expects anyone to actually see her hair.

Strengths:

Patient - She is an insanely patient person, and willing to wait through the most stressful, irritating, or boring encounters possible with no complains or noticeable signs of irritability and/or boredom. She can spend hours, days, etc dedicated to the same task, or even doing nothing at all. Not only does this allow her to prepare for ambushes ahead of time, as she is able to spend days and days sitting patiently in the same spot, but it also allows her to be around annoying people - be it nosy civilians, rude captured enemies, etc - or ear-grating noises with the utmost quietness. Her patience has yet to know no bounds.

Humility - No matter how grand her achievements may be, she does not like to brag about her accomplishments, and she doesn't let anything bloat her ego in the slightest. While she does not downgrade her accomplishments, and is definitely proud of what she has done, she will not go out of her way to stand out among the crowd, or belittle the accomplishments of others by putting herself above them. She sees not notable reason to be narcissistic about what you've done, and many of her accomplishments have gone completely unnoticed given her adamant belief not to show them off.

Loyalty - Despite any claims made about her, she is dangerously loyal - she won't even joke about the idea of betraying her faction - and wouldn't betray even the smallest secret of the NCR. Her loyalty extends to the point where she is willing to sacrifice her life to keep the secrets of the NCR as they are, and would gladly refuse to speak up if interrogated. She knows the rules and regulations of her faction very clearly, and refuses to go against them. She would do anything if asked, and would do so without questioning why, because maintaining her avid loyalty is insanely important to her, and this stands over all beliefs, including morality.

Weaknesses:

Corrupt - Like much of the NCR, she is rather underhanded at times, though often by order. Her loyalty can be wielded as a weapon of corruption, and it means she will do the darkest of tasks for the sole purpose of benefiting the NCR. She will openly lie to strangers about the most extreme things, and sabotage civilians solely to benefit her faction, if that's what she needs to do. While she can't be bought out by enemies - as her loyalty would not allow disobedience of betrayal - she can be easily guided by the hands of the highest ranking officials of the NCR to do the unforgivable.

Callous - Her time in an army-like situation, as well as many of the deeds of the past and questionable kills of those who may not have done wrong, she has become a rather listless person. Much of her humour has faded, and she becomes noticeably emotionless during conversation. Her voice rarely shows large pitch changes, and emotional reactions, such as anger, sadness, or excitement, are very subtle differences. While she can be professional when needed, she makes it very clear that she is not particularly interested in being friends with others, and her coldness can often be discomforting, even if not intentional. Most jokes will go right past her, and gestures of kindness will usually be overlooked.

Judgmental - She is very quick to decide whether she likes or dislikes someone - most often the latter. It takes her only a few minutes, if not less, of having known someone to immediately decide if she doesn't like them as a person, and she is very adamant about her opinions. One could ride to the ends of Earth to change her mind, and she would be so firmly stuck in her opinion that even if she has no choice but to acknowledge what you've done is good, helpful, or even saved her existence, she would still dislike you afterwards. It is not easily noticeable that she holds disdain for others, as her tone is challenging to read, but if asked, she will very firmly tell strangers she does not like them, attempting to follow up with a claim of professionalism going over the personal dislike.

Remorseless - Having taken on multiple jobs that can only be described as like a hitman, she has become rather heartless towards the idea of killing others without much reason. While not murderous, she does not need clear reasoning behind being told to kill another human being. If the NCR commands her to kill an enemy, she will relentlessly target them without any further questions, having no concern about whether or not the person she is being sent after actually deserves to be killed. She has no concern for where she kills others as well, as she will willingly shoot down an enemy in a public space or nearby young children, including biological. She simply wishes to get her job done. Nothing more.

Sensitive to light - Spending much of her time camping out in the pitch black and watching the world from the shadows, she grew to dislike bright light. While not fatal or detrimental to her work, she feels quite a lot of discomfort when staring into bright lights or sudden introduction of bright lights. She tries her best to push past this sensation to keep herself active. The sensitivity is on the more extreme side of the spectrum - so general light will not trigger any reaction - but when that extreme comes around, she can begin to feel weak. Prolonged exposure to extreme lights can include dizziness, headaches, or even feeling sick to the stomach. Despite this, she will adamantly pretend to be unbothered, as she doesn't want others to know about it.

S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength: 4 - While acceptable for someone of her size and gender, her strength is by no means even the slightest bit impressive, or worth noting. The average person, especially male, could likely outperform her in feats of strength, and while she fails noticeably in heavy lifting, her strength is not bad enough to where it has a negative effect on her life. She can wield her sniper rifle easily enough. She dislikes close combat anyways, so physical strength rarely applies to her fights. If it did, she would probably lose.

Perception: 10 - Trained as a sniper, her perception was required absolutely to be of the top notch in level. Almost as though she has an uncanny sixth sense to the world around her, she is acute, and insanely observational. No matter the time or place, she is always on alert, listening to the world around her, watching for twitches out of the corner of her eye, and carefully studying every move nearby people make. Her trained eye allows her to perform pinpoint precision for her shots - as well as other silly, trivial details of life. Many feel as though she has eyes in the back of her head, given her quick skill to note nearby foes, even when they are completely out of her line of sight. Often times she will stop and take in her world, drawing a map inside her head and teaching herself the patterns and flaws of that surrounding her.

Endurance: 7 - She may not be physically durable, but the elements are something she's all too familiar with. She can take the strain of the outside world fairly well, going a decent time without food, enduring high levels of cold or heat, and ignoring illness to the best of her ability. What she lacks in the ability to take a hit from the enemy, she more than compensates with survivability. Much of this is from her military training, and she has well adapted to such teachings. She is particularly adept at being able to go lengthy periods without sleep, showing almost no signs of exhaustion for a lengthy period of time.

Charisma: 2 - She is professional, and even that may be generous, as her professionalism can still betray how little she wishes to interact with those around her. While she doesn't go out of her way to belittle the people around her - usually - she definitely does not come off as likeable, nor does she make an effort to do so. Her encounters are insanely blunt, and while she is capable of holding a lengthy conversation with someone, or meeting a new person, she does not exactly make the encounter enjoyable, as it becomes obvious very quickly that she wants no part of the encounter. She doesn't try to please others or make them like her, but rather to just get to the end of the conversation as quickly as possible.

Intelligence: 6 - While not naturally intelligent, she is well-taught, and can get through the world with intellect a couple steps above the average person. Her skill-set is not particularly diverse, and mostly relates to her 'career' as a veteran ranger of the NCR. She does not go out of her way to learn skills of no interest to her - aka hobbies and whatnot - but is openly willing to learn anything needed for work. Her skills include proper maintenance and modifications of weapons, identifying and avoiding and/or dealing with threats, caring for wounds, etc.

Agility: 8 - Highly quick on her feet, she can react in a fleeting moment if needed to. While she prefers to avoid close encounters, she can retaliate to sudden threats whether that be dodging a strike, striking back, or finding cover. With her swift reactions - coupled alongside perception - she can pull off shots at the last moment, losing only a twinge of accuracy in exchange for a sudden shot. Her reloading times are quick and her ability to quickly draw and fire her sequoia, are quite impressive as well. Her agility is a deadly combination alongside high perception, and as long as she is paying attention - which she always is - she can react to the world around her pretty quickly. While she is not a master in her art, seldom few can react at a higher speed than she can, and she makes avid use of this.

Luck: 4 - A skill she considers moot, luck is not a game she likes to play on, as her luck prefers to favour the negative side - though not to an astounding degree. She doesn't consider herself particularly inclined towards this concept, but she's never been too bothered by it. Far as she believes, as long as she avoids casinos, luck should generally stay out of her life. Generally.

Other: She is a Veteran Ranger, and as such, is a highly respected authority figure in the NCR.


((OOC: Freakin' text limit hit me hard there X3))

Accepted!

(For now I'll stop at two. I'll let you guys decide if I should add my third OC or hold that thought for a while)

Name: Gwilym "Shiver" Willahelm (Only goes by Shiver)

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Faction: Raiders

Personality: He is a raider at heart true and true, but he is also a conman by nature, preferring to mask his inner personality to manipulate the masses. He has some degree of self-control that most raiders can't stake a claim to, and he'll play those cards aggressively. He can actually be a good companion, assuming you can truly gain his trust. He would take on the world for a trusted friend. Only problem is, he is not one to trust others and while he is willing to put up with people if he has to, he rarely trusts them. If anything, he often proves he can't be trusted, which makes this theory of trust challenging to work with. Ironically, it seems he actually doesn't get along well with other raiders, challenging them from afar and taking jabs at them in retaliation to those taken at him. It seems like the man has no desire to fit in with anyone and simply wants to be his own person. His mind seems to be a fairly confused place, as he's constantly questioning and doubting what he knows and what he's seen. When it comes down to it, he doesn't put too much merit in these thoughts. To many, the best way to describe him would be a split personality. One half is aggressive and violent, and the other is oddly sweet. Nonetheless, he should be taken as a threat by those who are not prepared to challenge him.

Appearance: He is a fairly imposing man himself, mere presence causing the more timid inhabitants of the wasteland to give him a free pass. Standing at a solid 6'3", he can often create an intimidating shadow merely by standing. His skin is a trifle on the dark side, given the fact that he spends most of his time out in the sun directly catching its rays. Some patches of his skin have even gone red from too much sun. His eyes are a very dull and dark blue, to the point where some would have to give him a second glance to acknowledge his eyes are not black. For the most part, they seem to be lifeless, staring into the distance like he can see forever. His hair is mostly unkempt, given how little it matters to him at all. Half his head is shaved completely off - the left half - with the other half shifting over the right side of his skull, not quite reaching his shoulders. The hair itself is white as snow in colour, though it tends to show the dirt and is rarely cleaned of this. He chooses to wear a full set of leather armour, finding that it allows him to remain mobile and that the colour of the armour itself does not draw too much attention to himself. Sometimes he will wear a bandana on his forehead, but if he's not wearing it, he will tie it around his left wrists instead. If one looked closely enough, they could see he straps a screwdriver around his left ankle, the item partially hidden inside his boot. He also possesses three scars; one is a series of wounds on the upper right leg that indicates something bit him. On his back are two deep slashes. Finally, there appears to be a smaller gash across his cheek. He refuses to speak of where he obtained these scars, but admits they were all from the same source.

Strengths:

Close Quarters Combat - With a combined effort of his strong physical damage and dodging ability, it's no wonder that he's an impressive foe at close range. He can combine powerful hits with skillful dodges to make quite a threatening foe. The closer you allow the man to get to you, the more of an advantage you give him. While he can attack with any melee weapons, he seems to prefer unarmed combat, and as such, can be dangerous to attack at any time, given his very fists can be his weapon of choice at times.

Animal Training - Even dogs, despite how much he hates them. It seems that he has a natural affinity with animals and enjoys their company. He can teach even the dumbest of animals impressive tricks and talents and seems fully dedicated to such concepts. His bird if a perfect example, given she was just an every day bird fluttering the wastelands aimlessly and now she is his eyes and ears. The only problem with his animal training skills is that he doesn't seem inclined the share them with others, even when offered money. Perhaps a trusted friend could earn his services.

Gambling - It doesn't matter what. Slot machines, roulette, blackjack - he dominates the field with any and all games of luck. It would seem almost like the games are ordered by his command and that pieces will always fall into place in his favour. It's a large hobby of his to gamble and given his skill, he makes quite a profit off the endeavor. He is accused of cheating often, but insists he is simply a man of good luck and doesn't cheat. He'll challenge anyone to any game, but it's preferable to decline, as he very likely will take your money and run as soon as you realize how skillful he is. He even likes to mess with people be losing on purpose the first couple games, raising the stakes in a fake desperation to earn his money back, then pulling out a win.

Weaknesses:

Poor Stamina - While strong and quick, it seems he becomes tired quickly. When using his endurance skills, he seems to push himself to his very limits and as such wears himself out quickly. It doesn't take him long to desire a rest. Aware of this, he tends to move slowly and purposefully, and only pursues fights he desires to be a part of.

Short Temper - While sweet with his words, and definitely rational for a raider, he still boosts that extremely short temper raiders are infamous for. He acts like not a thing bothers him, and while that's a façade he keeps up rather well, any intelligent person can quickly figure out he can be provoked into violence and aggression. Provocation is perfect way to see through his fake friendly acts, as well as a useful way to force him to waste stamina on a fight he would usually choose to avoid for the very reason of not consuming precious stamina. You can even provoke him into revealing secrets he doesn't want anyone to know, simply because he'll howl it out at you in a fierce rage. When angered, he is dangerous, but also easily manipulated.

Radiation Sensitive - Radiation doesn't agree with the man and he takes on the ill effects of his much quicker than the average person. In fact, it seems likely he takes on rads almost twice as quickly as the average person. He is in specific danger of radiation sickness and all it's negative effects and as such, would be better off avoiding areas with this effect.

Cruel - Cruel hardly begins to describe him on his bad days. He might play the nice card, but there's a line that can be crossed, and once someone is over it, he changes his song entirely. When he's chosen violence against someone, he can be terrifying to even witness in the act, nonetheless to be a part of. He seems to have a fascination in the physical pain of others and will purposely torment targets, drawing out their pain and refusing to finish them off. He's even been known to drag people away to continue their torment. To cross the line with him is to sign an agreement for him to be your torturer.

Energy Weapons - While even firearms in general can be baffling to him, no other weapon causes him more troubles than energy weapons. If he uses one, it's likely to perform poorly due to incorrect usage. Assuming he can even get the thing to fire off, if it does shoot, he'll likely either cause the weapon to implode or shoot himself.

S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

Strength: 8 - Given his large size, it's only natural to assume physical strength is a strong point in him, and one would not be wrong in that assumption. He is a very physically strong man, capable of lifting great weights and not being fatigued by them. Not only that, but his swing - weapon or bare fists - is a force to be reckoned with. It would be ill-advised to take him on at close quarters, given the sheer brute force he wields within. While he seems to be great at feats of strength, it seems to be a trait he rarely flaunts and given the choice, he would rather keep his supplies low and not force himself to carry large amounts of or heavy items.

Perception: 1 - He is by no means an observant fellow and most things tend to swing right over his head. This is combined effort of his lack of interest in his surroundings and the fact that he feels like someone else can do this job. When it comes to environmental awareness or searching for things, he puts full trust in his bird to do these actions for him. As such, he himself is highly ignorant to activities and items around him. Lilith's observation skills are keen, however, so it's rare that she fails to notice something he would be interested in. Quite frankly, his poor perception could be less because of terrible observational skills and more likely a lack of effort into the subject. He simply does not care to investigate his surroundings and would rather focus entirely on his own actions.

Endurance: 5 - Endurance is a mixed bag with him, as there are some fields of it he excels in, and others he fails greatly with. He certainly can take on physical damage like it means not a thing, and it seems like he's relatively unbothered by directly punching most objects. However, he seems to actual perform poorly in general stamina and radiation resistance. If anything, he is actually sensitive to radiation and takes on rads quicker than the average person, meaning he should avoid it at all costs. And while agile and quick, he is like a cheetah by nature and cannot maintain this for long periods of time.

Charisma: 7 - Despite his history as a raider, he is actually quite a charming man, assuming he wants to be. He likes to play a conman card, sizing people of with sweet sounding words to trick them into trusting him. By nature, he is aggressive and spiteful, but he knows how to make himself sound like a genuinely good person. With charisma, it's all about whether or not he wants to make a good impression. If yes, he will be one of the sweetest people you've ever met. If no, he'll be just as impossible to get along with as any other raider in the wasteland.

Intelligence: 4 - He has a basic understanding of the world and how it works, but don't expect to hear any genius commentary coming out of his mouth. When it boils down to it, he has the basic knowledge needed to survive in the wasteland and nothing else. He can repair weapons, understand basic political issues, and wrap up a wound. That's about it. If you want anything greater, you'll have to go ask someone else, because he simply doesn't understand anything advanced.

Agility: 7 - He's quick on his feet and lithe, an impressive trait for a man his size. Coupled with his physical strength, this can make him an impressive threat at close quarters, given he can throw a powerful punch and then swiftly leap aside before you have a chance to counterattack. His agility is mostly used for dodging and climbing. As aforementioned, he is cheetah-like by nature and as such, can only keep these actions up for a short while. For that time, though, he is very adept.

Luck: 10 - If luck were ever given a face, this man would likely be it, and its not difficult to see why. Given his lack on intellect and poor environmental awareness, one would think he would be long dead, especially given he works alone. Yet somehow, he manages to dodge trouble and death at every given path. He could flip a coin and guess whether it will be heads or tails correctly every time. Gambling with him is ill-advised. In fact, he tends to con people that way to make money.

Other: He has a pet raven named Lillith who sits upon his shoulder and acts as hie eyes and ears. She is trained to carry messages, spy on enemies, lead Shiver away from threats, lead Shiver to items or places of interest, and squawk loudly if he's being snuck up on. He is regularly mocked by other raiders for his pet.

Accepted!

((OOC: Somehow I read EVERYTHING you wrote in the description of the Roleplay EXCEPT the part about your favourite character. I know it doesn't matter now, but I feel obligated to. I like the Fantastic Mr. Fox - ahem - I mean, Vulpes))

Far from the lonesome camp of Searchlight, secretly sitting on a high cliff side, was a rustic shack. The shack itself was rather unimpressive to say the least, constructed entirely of decayed fragments of old metal barely clinging to one another. It certainly wasn't the sort of place a person would enjoy spending their free time, especially given the stale, disgusting air that wafted around the shack itself. However, for a lone sniper keeping watch on the world around her, this haplessly constructed pile of ancient metal made the perfect nesting point, and from the multiple discarded food containers littered all over the ground, to the makeshift bed entirely constructed of dirt-encrusted cardboard strewn across the ground, it was quite evident this place was inhabited. It wasn't the most pleasant of dwellings, and the lone NCR Ranger that had been huddled up here was very aware of this. But comfort mattered little, for she was more concerned over the location of the nest itself and how it allowed her to effectively keep tabs on two different nearby settlements at once through the scope of her sniper rifle. From her position, she could monitor both the massive settlement of Camp Searchlight and the far smaller, but more dangerous encampment down at Cottonwood Cove. The latter was more important to keep tabs on, but the former often had more to look at, and so often did the young Ranger find herself inclined to glance to Searchlight instead simply to entertain herself.

The woman camped up in the nest had lost track of exactly how long she had been up there, but the steady declination of her food supply was enough to hint that it had definitely been quite a while. Time itself was meaningless, and she worried little about how little or much of it she had wasted huddled inside that rustic shack. Like any other day, she was simply sat upon a metal box - hardly a comfortable chair - quietly taking bites of a very old candied apple. Unpleasant food, it was, but she wasn't complaining too much as long as it helped stave off the hunger. Swallowing the final bite of candy apple, she now picked up her rifle instead, but only to glance through the scope at the far distance.

She was completely silent as she moved herself into a better position to observe from a distance. She turned her interested attention to Camp Searchlight this time, hoping to find something of even minor interest to watch. After all, she had to do something with her free time to help prevent complete boredom from washing over her, and it wasn't like the lunatics at Cottonwood Cove were giving her anything she cared to see that she hadn't seen a thousand times before. She could see the streets of Camp Searchlight in quite vivid detail through her scope, and she found herself scanning over each individual road in hopes of finding something of interest. She certainly wasn't expecting to find anything of threat at this point. Most of what she saw was needlessly mundane, every day people going about their lives, people in dirty clothes exchanging awkward pleasantries with one another. She had noticed a man with a small bird on his shoulder on the outskirts of town for a moment, and she might've been interested in him if he looked like he were causing a ruckus, but that was hardly the case.

Then, her attention fixated on small group of three people - scratch that, two people, as one of them turned around to head inside a nearby church. She recognized one of the people in the group quickly, a local trader that was confident enough to run NCR trade routes in the area, but the other two were strangers to her. There was what appeared to be a young boy heading towards the church and... well, it was nigh impossible to tell if the other person was male or female, given the heavy armour they were all draped up in. Strangers were a start, and she hadn't gotten the best view of the boy heading into the church, so she kept her scope fixated on the trader and the - she'd just call them a "man" until further notice - the trader was speaking with.

After a pause on her part, Red extended a gloved hand in the direction she had kept her back to prior. "Out eastwards." Indeed, the Mojave wasn't a place she was entirely accustomed to. While endless planes cracking from dryness and baking with radiation weren't new to her, this particular sun-scorched and irradiated plane was. Briefly noting the sand-worn garments the trader dressed herself with, she made a point of saying, "I'm guessin' you know a thing or two about this 'Mojave'?"

Eastwards? This man came from Legion territory? It was the only real conclusion the trader could draw, for having traveled here from even further east simply didn't occur to her. At the man's question, she frowned ever so slightly, saying, "Too much." Shaking her head, she told him, "The troopers keep the riff-raff away from the settlements, so you're safe here." Pausing for a moment, she continued, "It's out on the roads that'll get you in trouble. Course, where's that not the case?"

Slipping his various knives back into their hidden places once he was dressed, the boy stepped out of the church, the bundle of the too-big clothes in his hands. He didn't say anything, just looked at the Brahmin before offering the clothes to the trader.

"Ah, pleasure doing business with you," she said. Looking from him to Red and back again, she asked whoever would answer her first, "Have you been traveling together long?"

"No."

Well, he wasn't much of a conversationalist, that much the trader could tell. Deciding to keep her negotiations strictly with the ghoul, she asked, "Need anything else?"

As the Stranger observed the encounter from a distance through the scope of her sniper rifle, a vast chunk of the conversation was fully lost on her as she couldn't hear any of the words coming from either of their mouths. The two seemed to be having a relatively peaceful conversation though, as their posture was pretty lax, and it seemed as though neither party felt threatened by another. One particular gesture she was quick to pick up on was the man lifting his arm and pointing it eastwards, towards Legion territory. Of course, simply pointing to the east didn't immediately mean that's the path they came from, but it was an interesting little gesture nonetheless, and one she intended to keep tabs on. If they had come from the east, then maybe - just maybe - they were trouble... that or they weren't very skilled in picking safe paths to travel along. Either or, seeing travelers arriving from that part of the Mojave wasn't nearly as common.

She took several moments to consider how likely it was this man and his companion had come from Legion territory before she noticed a sign of movement from the church once more. There he was - the much younger boy. He was dressed in a different outfit than the one he had entered the building with, but there was no doubting it was the same person. Unlike the man speaking with the trader, she could clearly make out the face of this boy, see the emotion outlined on his face - or rather, the eerie lack of it. He didn't seem to be too particularly interested in the encounter, which in and of itself wasn't too strange. As the Stranger knew personally, plenty of people disliked banter, herself included. The boy appeared to be much younger than his traveling companion, and she imagined he couldn't be more than maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. She took plenty of time to overlook him through the lens of her scope, though for the time being, his stance and expression gave her little to work off of. At this moment, he didn't look like much more than another disgruntled wasteland type.

Still, she kept watching the group, interested to see if these outsiders were just going to go about their business or stick around and make any kind of scenes. Part of her was hoping they'd give her a reason to keep watching them, for she inwardly longed for a reason to put this old shack behind her and do something with herself. After all, she certainly wasn't getting much done as it stood right now. She was just watching and waiting - but what exactly she was waiting for wasn't clear anymore. It wasn't like she could attack Cottonwood Cove. That was simply out of the question, and over time, watching enemies she wasn't allowed to attack grew frustrating.

She didn't get her hopes too high, though. For now, these two didn't seem like they would be anything other than mere travelers.

Oblivious to the watchful eye locking onto her party of two, Red gave a nod of understanding to the trader's assessment of the land. She had expected no less; dangerous wildlife, dangerous people. What place didn't have its fair share of that? "Ain't that the truth?" she said with a raspy chuckle. "Just yesterday we had a scuffle with one o' them cazadors. Nasty critters. Can't turn your back on 'em for a--" Her story was interrupted with the sound of the large church door creaking and boots crunching against the sand. "Now, that was quick," she said, giving a tilt of the head towards the trader after the boy's lull in response.

It didn't take a genius to discern that he had no interest in conversation, with his avoidance of eye-contact and blunt replies. All in her favor, she supposed. She could handle the talking. "How much for some food? And..." She peered down at the boy. "You still hangin' in there alright? Need any medicine?"

Claudius, thankfully, missed the part about the cazador incident. Had he heard, he would have given Red a hell of a glare at the very least. As it was, he hadn't heard, so instead he merely handed over his oversized outfit without any complaint or glaring on his part.

He didn't, of course, miss the part directed towards him about medicine. Before the trader could even open her mouth to reply, the boy was saying adamantly, "No. I'm fine." In reality, he wasn't quite "fine," but he wasn't about to take whatever medicine or, Mars forbid, drugs this trader or this man might shove down his throat or into his veins. He wasn't a child who needed assistance in dealing with pain or discomfort. He was a man of the Legion, dammit!

Are you, now? a traitorous part of his mind nagged at him.

Scowling at the mere suggestion of medicine and his own current situation, he shook his head, once again saying, "No."

The trader didn't seem convinced. "You weren't stung by one of those critters, were you? If so, you may need-"

Damn woman.

"I'm fine," he hissed.

After a few long moments of Red staring impassively at the boy and his curt attitude, she responded with a resigned shrug of the shoulders. "If you say so, kid." A hardness returned to her tone as she continued, "We're still settlin' for some rations. You're not gonna get far in the desert expectin' meals to come your way."

At Red's first words, the boy nodded his head in a very clear, Damn straight, manner. He then seemed to pause as he registered he had been called a boy yet again. He might have complained about this, but the ghoul beat him to it. Crossing his arms as he listened to the man's words, he stayed silent for a time, but eventually came to give a curt nod. "Fine." He was eager to leave this place, but he was hardly a fool. He knew the necessity of being properly prepared for a particular excursion. It was for this reason that he didn't put up a fuss.

The trader looked as though she was about to push the issue of Claudius receiving proper medical treatment, but the boy silenced her before she could speak. "Spare me your capitalistic tendencies."

Once again reminded of why she was restricting her dealings with the ghoul only, the trader turned to him, trying her best to ignore the boy as she said, "I have plenty of food items for sale. Got some prewar stuff. Also got some gecko steaks, if you're interested. And of course, we have water for sale, too."

The boy's compliance, however reluctant, was given a nod of approval. Resisting against apologizing for his impoliteness, as to not rouse his ire more than it already had been, she instead took note of their options, and opted to ask him, "You got a preference?" Red's preference was not starving, of course, and so deemed it the boy's choice to make.

For a few moments, the boy seemed surprised by the question. No one had ever asked him such a thing before. His puzzlement seemed to quickly turn to his usual resentment, however. He was not a picky eater, and he was somewhat offended that his company had implied as such. In the Legion, you ate whatever you managed to earn, and that's if you ate at all. The concept of having a preference for certain foods, as well as eating for pleasure alone, was completely foreign to him.

He considered telling the ghoul and the trader that he'd eat human flesh should he be hungry enough, but decided against it, though more so out of an unwillingness to talk than any consideration on his part. In his mind, cannibalism wasn't wrong, and the possibility of others finding it wrong simply did not occur to him. Good thing he decided not to bring it up in favor of issuing a simple, "No," then.

Damn, this kid sure likes to take his time. When the eventual-- and underwhelming-- answer arrived, Red gave nothing more than a halfhearted "Alright," before addressing the trader. "How much for them gecko steaks, then?"

"That'll be eight caps each," said the trader.

The boy gave her an odd look. He had no concept of these... "caps." The only currency he knew of was the Legion Denarius, which took the form of coins. Why must everything about this Profligate land be so... alien?

"Thirty caps for water," she went on. "Unless you want the irradiated stuff. That's only fifteen caps per bottle."

Claudius gave her a look of disbelief. "And who gave you permission to speak?" The ghoul had asked what the cost of the gecko steaks were, nothing more. What gave this woman the right to speak when it was not asked of her? He gave his savior a look that seemed to ask, Can you believe this?

Red's fingers slipped into the side pocket she had distributed her remaining caps. She counted five.

Dammit.

It looked as though they wouldn't be getting any rations right then, let alone with a surplus of water. Unless, perhaps, she added some of her ammunition to the exchange. It pained her to part with a single bullet or energy cell; however, again, she knew what she was getting herself into. A tag-along needed proper care for.

The ghoul lowered a hand to pull a few cells from her belt, but the boy's words stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly to meet his bewildered gaze, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her eyes as they bored into him. There was a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence while she continued to stare down at him, hand having not moved from its position next to her waist. "... And who in tarnation gave you permission to speak?"

As the boy waited for the ghoul's answer, his disbelieving look slowly turned to one of confusion at the stare he was receiving. That expression was quick to change to one of indignation, however, at the man's spoken words. He might have expected such words from his Decanus, but from this man? Did he think that he had some sort of authority over him? That he should not speak unless spoken to?

Oh hell no. This Profligate had no such sovereignty over him.

Returning the man's stare with a glare, he said, "I do not need your permission." It took every ounce of his willpower to not add Profligate to the end of that sentence. "Do I look like a woman to you?"

"Excuse me?" said the trader. "What does being a woman have to do with anything?"

"A woman needs permission to speak. A man does not."

The trader looked like she was about to let loose a flurry of curse words at this boy, but she eventually decided on not even gracing him with a response. Instead, she merely looked to the ghoul, asking, "Where did you find this piece of work?"

Red was about to give the boy a piece of her mind before the trader beat her to it. And as she glanced between the two during their little exchange, her unseen glare became one of bewilderment. Dear lord, what had she gotten herself into? She'd encountered a lot of folks with some mentality of that degree, but this child... he was treating the issue as if it were indisputable fact, rather than some contrived opinion to spew about bitterly. Where in the world had he gotten that imprinting?

The ghoul brought a hand to slide under her hat and brush her temple, shaking her head and breathing a raspy sigh as if to say, Don't ask. Then, giving a hard look at her accompaniment, she began her lecture. "Listen, kid. I don't know where you came from, or what your folks told you, but frankly, I don't give a brahmin's behind about it. They may have had their rules and whatnot, but out here? In the Wasteland?" She swept a gloved hand across the barren landscape past the town's walls. "It's lawless country. And in lawless country, the last thing anyone wants to do is be bossed around by some stranger out of nowhere."

Jabbing a finger down in the boy's direction, she warned, "That kinda attitude is a sure-fire way to get yourself killed out here."

The boy looked like he was going to go off on the trader for daring to speak again, but the ghoul's words stopped him. He turned to look at the man, a quizzical look in his eye. He didn't understand. Shouldn't this man agree that this woman had no place to be speaking without permission? He knew that the Profligates employed women to serve as soldiers for whatever dumb reason, but surely... They didn't actually hold some degree of respect for women, did they? They didn't see them as equal to a man, surely?

Claudius looked around the camp uncertainly. There were women along with the men in the NCR's armor. As he watched for a few moments, he noticed a disturbing lack of submission on the women's part. They spoke like... well, like men. If not for their feminine features and voices, he might not have been able to discern their gender at all.

As he looked back to the ghoul, a look of utter confusion had by then overtaken his features. Mars, what was this place? Nothing was right here, if women could... could speak their minds as freely as any man. It was the man's last sentence that particularly disturbed him. The way he acted would get him killed out here? What had he done that was so wrong?

For several moments, he tried desperately to rationalize the situation, but he was finding it near impossible. Nothing made sense here. It was, as the ghoul had put it, a lawless country.

And that scared the **** out of him.

Swallowing down his nerves, he looked up to the man, eventually coming to say, sounding very lost, "I don't understand. How does anything... work here? Without laws, or without some sort of code?"

The idea of a truly lawless land terrified him. What did these Profligates do without the instruction of Caesar or other superiors? Was this western wasteland truly an every man for himself sort of place? Perhaps it would be better if he faced the judgment of his peers.

The Stranger had spent quite some time watching the affair through her scope, though to her, it was an entirely silent encounter, and she had to go entirely off of gestures and facial expressions to gather an idea of what was going on. For quite a while, it seemed like little more than some travelers simply discussing the exchange of wares with a trader, but after a while of casual banter, she noticed some tension had entered the scene. Though silent it may have been to her ears, the tension hardly needed words to be translated, as she could see the sudden change of expression on two of the parties - no such luck on the third one, what with the clothing and armour covering most of their body. It was obvious some kind of argument was going down, and after what was likely several loud choice words, the "man" that had been alongside the boy cast an angry finger at him, and it became quickly evident that he was being ganged up on in some way. Whether or not this was justified wasn't quite clear, but it was evident enough that this boy must've said or done something to create a scene of some kind.

She wondered quite firmly what in the world he had done to create such an abrupt scene, as not mere minutes ago the three of them appeared to be getting on relatively fine - or, as fine as three people in the wasteland could get along, at least. She noticed the way the boy scanned his surroundings, the rather confused expression that appeared to replace the anger abruptly.

What she wouldn't have given to hear the conversation too, to know the words that lead up to that small, but tense argument.

Something in her eyes softened when apprehension appeared in the boy's own, and her hand lowered to her side from its previously poised position. She turned her head away to scan the distant wasteland. Beats me, kid.

Sighing, she gripped the sides of her belt with loose fingers and answered, "For the most part, folks out here live and let live. They accept each others differences and move along with their lives." She paused before returning her gaze to the boy. "Just don't impose yourself on folks, kid. Let 'em do their thing," she said whilst gesturing a hand at the trader, "and they won't bother you. Usually."

The boy didn't quite like what he was hearing. "Sounds like anarchy," he said, a hint of distaste in his tone. "Does no one rule over this land?"

"Depends on who you ask," said the trader. "Some'll say the NCR holds a position of authority here. Considering where we're standing, I wouldn't argue with that statement too much. But the NCR hasn't spread across the entire Mojave, so there're still independent settlements, as well."

"Independent?"

"They don't really answer to anyone but their own." Shrugging, she went on, "In the end, it doesn't matter who's in charge. You can't run around voicing your sexist opinions everywhere. Not if you wanna last more than ten seconds."

In the Legion, I could, he dared not say. Looking back to the ghoul, he gave him a look that suggested he was not at all happy about this. Crossing his arms, he said simply, "This place is chaotic."

"Welcome to the Mojave."

When the boy gave Red a rather displeased look, she could only shrug. "Like it or not, that's just the way it is. You gotta learn how to adapt." She huffed through the hole where her nose once was. "Sure am glad I found you when I did. Couldn't have said it better myself; folks who talk like that don't last long."

And neither did folks without anything to eat, she reminded herself.

Resuming her task of pulling out a handful of energy cells, Red proceeded to ask the trader, "How much are you willing to trade for these? We're a bit low on caps."

The trader took a moment to do the math in her head. "4 cells per steak. 8 per bottle of water."

Claudius was immediately on alert at this transaction. "You're not trading away your ammunition, are you?" At least, that's what he assumed those little things were. He'd never seen anything quite like them before.

Red nodded at this and eyed the cells in her hand, considering what to do. "We don't have many options," she said to the boy. "But I can stand to part with a few of 'em."

Handing over four of them, she said, "We'll take one of the steaks, please."

"Absolutely not," said the former legionary before the trader could accept the offer.

Said trader raised a brow at him. "And since when are you calling the shots?"

Crossing his arms, he said, more to the ghoul than the woman, "It is foolish to trade away your means of defense. Besides, a single shot could guarantee a meal."

"Assuming a gecko happens to cross your trail," she said.

"I'd rather take that chance than part with a weapon willingly," argued the boy. Turning back to the ghoul, he shook his head, saying simply, "Don't."

It took all of Red's willpower to not sigh in exasperation as another dispute arose. Good lord, what was this kid's deal? It was as if he was actively trying to sabotage his chances at survival. Did he have any idea how...

She sighed again, pocketing the ammo and turning to the boy. "Kid, it's just four. I have enough of these to last a month. It's no sweat off my brow."

"Stop calling me kid," he demanded. Uncrossing his arms so he could gesture to himself with his hands, he continued, "I've survived longer periods of time without food. I'll be fine." That much was true. It had been one of his trials to survive with minimal amounts of food and supplies. So hunger was no new companion to him.

"Why would you be so willing to part with anything in this" - Profligate - "land just for my sake?" he went on. "Because you're nice?"

The boy's assessment of his own resilience made Red pause and consider it. She had no reason to not believe him, really, unknowing of how long he had been on his excursion through the wasteland. But then her eyes flashed at his words, an unseen scowl beginning to set on her forehead. "Why does that make you so upset?"

Because I was saved by someone nice, someone who doesn't see it as the weakness it is. I am indebted to you, to a fool who would readily part with their weapons just so I don't have to feel the pain of hunger. And you keep offering your assistance to me, furthering the debt I owe you. I don't like it.

He said none of this, obviously. Instead, after taking a few moments to formulate the answer he would give, the boy said, "Being nice will get you killed one day."

Red blinked once. Then twice. Then she gave a quick shake of the head, readjusting the strap of her gun. "Well, it's been about one hundred years since I started bein' nice, so I ain't exactly shiverin' in my boots." She cast a glance at the trader, falling silent in case she wanted to get a word in. The ghoul knew that she herself was pretty close to being speechless at this point.

Returning the man's glance with one of her own, the trader then looked to the boy, saying, "Well, in your case, not being nice is sure to be your downfall. You're lucky I didn't just shoot you in the head when you started spewing your sexist ****. One less bigot in the world."

Claudius opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before any sound could come out. If this woman truly disapproved of him, then she was a fool to let him live. Even now, he was plotting her demise. He wasn't about to let her know that, though, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Oh? And here I thought you always had something snarky to say."

...He may or may not have been planning on the best way to cut her tongue out, as well. Looking to the ghoul, then at the various Profligate troops surrounding him, he reminded himself that such a thing would have to wait until he wasn't surrounded by people who would gun him down the moment he raised his machete. So for now, he simply settled with narrowing his eyes at the woman, telling her, "You haven't seen me being snarky."

"Sure kid, sure."

"I'm not a---"

"Anyways, I have a proposition for you, if you care to hear it," the trader told the ghoul.

Red gave a slow, solemn nod to accompany the trader's thoughts, eyes locking firmly on the boy when he lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Had he nothing to say about that, then? Good. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause, if he was able to see some form of reason. This gave her some much-needed relief.

Rolling the tension out of her shoulders, she regarded the trader with a gaze of less intensity and replied, "What did you have in mind?"