Everything was bright and fuzzy when Abigail woke up. Even though it had been several years since she was plucked from the streets of Freeside, the familiar ache of a broken body was enough to instinctively force the girl to stay incredibly still and wait for her thoughts to become coherent sentences again. Rather disconcertingly, she felt the familiar chewiness of some form of fabric in her mouth, and her hazy mind jumped to the conclusion that she might be gagged - but not blindfolded. She played dead until she realised that these bright and fuzzy Freeside streets were rather warm and comfortable...that was when she opened her eyes, just a little.

Abigail was in a motel room, rather gaudily decorated but fairly clean for Wasteland standards. She wasn’t tucked in, rather laid on the bed with care. Someone had tended to her tongue; she spat out a gauze swab pushed in her mouth after realising that it was not, in fact, a gag. Her gaze slid across the orange pattern on the walls until it settled on a dark silhouette hunched by the window. Abigail blinked a few times until the figure swam into view; it was hard to miss the little book in his hand and it was a dead giveaway.

“Hnnmh…Brooksy.” 

Brooks remained sat back against the chair, propped up by the window with the light from the outside beaming down on him through a slit he opened to look out at the streets. In his hands was his trusty bible which he used to keep himself busy. Every day he read a new page, over and over again, soaking in every word.  He wouldn’t call himself a religious man, but the occasional verse had some truth to them. The book seemed to practically contain answers to questions he’d been searching his whole life. As Abigail stirred, he placed his finger in between the page open in front of him, to remember where he left off. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he’d voice out, cracking a smile knowing the last thing Abigail likes to do in the morning is engage in conversation. “They’ve got some strange fellows here alright, all night n’ day people in wacky costumes parading around.” he’s state, trying to pull her from her slumber.

She hoped it was just hunger. Dear God, it must be the hunger. She hoped the shivers were just because she was cold, but there was a gnawing sensation in the back of her mind...she kept rubbing the crook of her arm subconsciously. Abigail stared at Brooks patiently, clearly not listening to him in the slightest as realisation started to dawn upon her - why the hell, what possessed HER of all people to give this self-righteous prick ALL of her Med-x? She clenched and unclenched her jaw and stared at Brooks without really seeing him.

“Come on, don’t fall asleep. Let’s sit you up.” he’d place a strip of paper in between his most recent page, laying it aside by the window before shuffling over to aid Abigail upright. Then he moved over to where last night's pot would be, the contents still fresh and warm, and splatter it onto a makeshift plate. “Made it early this mornin’, one good thing about this place is that stores are open almost twentyfour-seven.”

With Brooks’ help, Abigail was able to sit up and help herself to the (cold) fire gecko stew and the sunset sarsparilla. She hadn’t said a word since she woke up and kept pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth tentatively...there were dull pangs of pain but she could feel that the punctures had healed over thanks to a stimpack or two. Using the reflection from her bottle, Abigail gingerly brushed her fingers across the bruises on her neck, exhaling through her nostrils. Before Brooks could say anything else, Abigail looked up at him and croaked out “Boss.”

It was rehearsed. How many times had Abigail run through this conversation in her head? He could hear the careful tone of voice, the slight inflections she used to give it realism, honesty, spontaneity...it was impossible for her to lie to Brooks. Abigail, for all her skill, could pull off a proper lie to anyone - but not after spending so much time with him. He knew what to look for. “I know what we agreed on, and you know I’ve been very good at sticking to your routine. I haven’t complained once. But this once...just this once, I think I need a full dose.”

And Abigail was a devilishly good actress. She never broke eye-contact, her bright blue eyes boring into Brooks’ dark gaze so steadily that she could’ve been talking about the weather for all anyone else knew. The way she idly played with her spoon, scratched her ear and waited ever-so-patiently for the response; it was all a ruse. She felt like she was controlling a big puppet, she was acutely aware of every twitch and pull of her muscles...it was an out-of-body experience that she was only ever exposed to when she really, really had to think hard over her act. It was enough of a distraction to quell the tingling sensations that preluded the withdrawal, and that was the most convincing part of it all; she didn’t have that glint in her eye. There was no sign of true need, just an honest and pragmatic suggestion. Purely for survival’s sake.

“No.”

She didn’t miss a beat in responding. “Ok, ok. But I’m in a lot of pain right now, Brooks. I’m really weak, and I’m going to need more than usual to get back up on my feet pretty quickly.” She set aside the bottle and plate, giving Brooks her full attention.

Brooks let out a sigh, reaching up to re-adjust his collar before flicking his hands at Abigail as he emphasized his point “Abbey, you already need more than your average to get anythin’ from that crap. You’re breathing, you’re standing, and even talking back. Desperate times, that’s what we talked about.”

Abigail pushed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, doing everything in her power to remain calm. “You know where we are, right? I’d much rather you gave me something now instead of having to go off and find some myself - do you know who that man was, the one from the bar?” Abigail shifted her weight a little and instantly regretted it; she winced, screwing her face up from the pain. “That was Redding Schmidt, one of the biggest pimps and drug dealers this side of New Vegas. And he told me where to find him. I think you’d rather I didn’t fall to temptation and instead took the dose that you’re able to control, no?”

Brooks’ facial features took on an unimpressed scowl, giving Abigail a long, pregnant stare.
“Excuse me?”

Abigail held her hands up defensively. “I’m just saying it how it is, Brooksy. You and I both know I do stupid shit even when I’m high - what risks am I going to take when I’m going through withdrawal? This is the last place you want me to really start sobering up, there’s too many...opportunities. Just keep me going until we’re out of New Reno, then when we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere you can cut me off. Then I can’t do shit about it.”

“Abigail, listen. How many times has this been? How many more times are you gonna go through this exact fuckin’ talk. You’ve managed this long and now you wanna’ throw it out the window?”

“That wasn’t a proper excuse, Brooks,” remarked Abigail a little too quickly. She clenched her hands together and took a moment to control herself. “Look. All I’m saying is I don’t want to go through withdrawal here. Not now. It’s far too dangerous - we both saw how fucked up this city is just last night, and you want to be worrying over me on top of all that?” Abigail looked away for a moment, swallowing nervously. “At least you’ve still got control over the dosage,” she repeated quietly.

Brooks folded his arms, a slight wave of disappointment washing over him. “I control the dosage. You stay by my heels. And don’t you even -think- about sneaking off and getting your own dosage. Abbey it WILL end bad.”

Abigail couldn’t look him in the eyes and it took every ounce of willpower to avoid breaking into a sly grin. “It’ll be better in the long run, trust me,” she replied heavily.

“Zip it.” he’d snap at her, shooting her another deathly scowl.

...

Brooks let out a grumble, shutting and locking the door to their motel room behind them as the two walked down and out of the cool and shady motel stairway and into the sunny and dust settled streets of New Reno. It was early in the morning, the sun had just risen and the streets were slowly busying themselves. Brooks slapped on his wide-brimmed hat to block out the rays and gazed up and down both ends of the road, mumbling to himself as he voiced out to Abigail “Fella’ I asked mentioned bounties are at one of the casinos.” as he began walking up the streets, taking it easy as the two were in no particular rush. They must have been lucky with the neighbourhood as the people passing them or crowding around the street stops seemed decent, average, and just trying to get by. All the better for Brooks, as the two usually caught enough attention as is. That’s what he liked about the big city, everyone minded their own business. 

Abigail was certainly keeping to her promise. She was pretty much bumping elbows next to Brooks, sticking to his side in an oddly uncharacteristic silence. She pulled down her goggles to keep the sun out and kept her gaze fixed on the floor, tugging sulkily at her bag straps. After a very, very long pause she hazarded a glance up at her travelling companion and asked “did you say casinos?”

“Exactly what I said. That means tip-top behaviour, yeah? Guards in casinos ain’t the same as guards in grocery stores. You steal from them and not even -I- can stop ‘em from breaking your hands. I’m dead serious about that, Abbey. We’re only going in to see what bounties we can fish.” he’d speak, sternly and to the point, gaze focused on the way they’re going as the two take a turn.

Abigail was slowly coming out of her shell and regaining her usual upbeat optimism, but she still spoke with an edge of cautiousness. “We used to have the Atomic Wrangler in Freeside. I didn’t go in there though, I wasn’t old enough...pretty sure it was a whorehouse as well as a casino. Don’t you want to play a couple games while we’re there?” Abigail held a hand up. “Ah, no, wait. ‘For the love of money is the root of all evil: which some coveted after, blahblahblah. Amen.’” She bowed her head solemnly and pretended to pray as she walked.

Brooks couldn’t help but smirk at Abigail’s words. “I wouldn’t know where to start. My father was a gambler but he sure as hell didn’t teach me jack.” he’d tilt his head up, making out the word “Shark Club” on one of the signs further down the road. “Sounds about right…” he mumbled to himself, following the directions.

Abigail started to smile. “Oh, it’s easy. First you take all of your caps, and put them on one of the squares...then you throw cards at the other players, pick everyone’s money up and run away-oooooh.”

It became immediately apparent why Brooks had warned Abigail to be on her best behaviour, because the Shark Club’s luminous sign shimmered in the morning sunshine. It was quite likely, given the condition of the casino on the outside, that there would be just as many beautifully shiny things inside as well. The guards stationed at the entrance glared skeptically at Abigail as they approached, one of them stepping forward and making a vague gesture to the girl. “How old is she?”

“Twenty.” he lied. “She’ll be by my side.” he didn’t lie. The two were begrudgingly let in, not before passing the obvious weapons check. With both Brooks and Abigail disarmed, the made their way past the guards and inside.

“I mean, it could be possible,” murmured Abigail as she pulled the cigar cutter out of her pocket. When she took a good look inside, she instinctively gripped onto Brooks’ coat - her gaze was immediately transfixed by the loud and brightly lit slot machined, but it slid from one place to another. She looked rather overwhelmed. Her free hand clicked the cigar cutter desperately as she fought the completely irrational compulsion to physically reach out and grab the entire casino in her little bony fingers.

Brooks lead the two towards the nearest bar, moving briskly as he knew Abigail’s attention span was already at it’s limits. As they arrived he helped Abigail onto a stool, leaning against the counter himself as he placed his hat on it. The bar itself was mostly empty, aside from a few of the workers coming back and forth from behind it. Overall, it looked like a clean and prestigious establishment, calm in the early hours. Nodding up at a worker as he approached him and Abigail, “Mornin’. There’s talk of jobs you got here. Mind directing me to someone?”