David looked at Lilith with a surprised expression, "Work? Here?" He looked to Redding and at Zel. "I mean, that depends. What kind of work are you comfortable with?"
 
Lilith raised an eyebrow at him, "Any kind of work, scavenging, guarding, ruthless bloody murder, or interior design. I'm a budding renaissance in a can in the field of occult brahmin blood wall murals!" She waited expectantly, nodding her head in the direction of the bar's stocks of alcohol and hoping he would take the hint. "Really, as long as it doesn't involve spreading my legs for an obese ghoul with a Ronto accent, I'll do just about whatever you have."
 
The bartender looked nervous, "Look, don't say the M word here ok?" he looked to Zel for a moment. Then he asked, "What do you want? We serve a mean whiskey."
 
Zel glanced, to her left, at Lilith, "You do murder for work?" she thought of Big Joe, who had one of his surviving multi-personalities act as a rapist and murderer, "There's people who pay for that?" she leaned forward, with a frantic wide-eyed look. "Are you a rapist?"
 
"Murder, assassination, housekeeping, y'know. One party wants another party dead so they hire a third party to start a party in the second party's party and add some intestine streamers to the decor." Lilith made a face, "never been a favorite of mine. I'm okay at sneaking around, but never been fond of it." She pointedly ignored the latter question the strung out woman had asked, instead looking over to the bartender, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not looking for anything too strong tonight. I've got a bit of a gut feeling that being plastered off my ass might be even less healthy than normal. Have any beer, cider? I knew one guy down in... some random town in Baja that made a mean mutfruit cider. Shit was like the nectar of the gods, but with more radiation."
 
Sighing, she looked back over at Zel, "And ah, no, I'm not much a fan of rape. Or rapists." She paused for a moment, then added brightly, "Except as target practice! They're excellent for that!"
 
David looked at Lilith with the expression of one who was insulted, "I got some kind of cider..." he looked through his bottles. Cider was a sort of alcohol made from apples, which were rare in non-dandy-appled form. So many bars had come to the practice of calling drinks made out of banana yucca fruit or barrel cactcus "cider". He retrieved a bottle, that actually said [i]BANANA YUCCA, ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE, MADE BY CACTUS JOE.[/i] He tore the label off in a surreptitious manner, "Yeah, of course. That's ten caps, by the way." 
 
Zel looked at Lilith, wondering if she were from Zels vault. Would she have to kill Lilith? She imagined herself ripping Liliths throat out then eating it, to gain Liliths strength. But what was her strength? Would she want it?
 
Lilith shrugged, fishing around in one of the cavernous pockets of her coat for a few caps which she obligingly tossed onto the table. "I saw you pull that label off, for the record." She commented idly as she took the drink, "I'll let it slide if you tell me of any decent work you've heard of in the area." 
 
At that moment Fimion pushed open the swinging doors that lead into the Cracked Glass with a little too much Gusto, causing them to slam into the doorframe either side. He grinned stupidly as several of the patron's eyes went to him and gave a little wave as he made his way directly to the bar where he spotted Redding with several others, not that he paid them much heed. He placed the heavy lockbox on the bar with a thud and started to attempt to pry it open with his fingernails unsuccessfully. 
 
Zel looked at the box, temporarily forgetting the [i]should Zel kill Lilith[/i] dilemma. "What's with the box?" She looked at the box, a secret. She wondered what worlds the box contained. Would the box make her happy? She had to know. "What's in the box?" she said, frantically.
 
Fimion's gaze snapped up at the woman who was addressing him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he clutched at the lockbox protectively at her somewhat frenzied expression. 
 
Lilith looked over curiously, eyeing the lockbox's sturdy construction. "I don't think you're going to pop that open with your fingers anytime soon. Unless you have a cutting disc hidden in them somewhere." She raised an eyebrow, "Just what's in there?"
 
Fimion's gaze flicked to this second woman. He hadn't expected questions, but then he hadn't really thought any of this through. [color=BDB76B]"My box?"[/color] he asked, trying to sound innocent. [color=BDB76B]"It's where I keep my caps. I just, eh... lost the key"[/color]. He licked his dry lips, the bitter taste of the jet still lingering. He still didn't like the way the first one was staring at the box longingly. 
 
Zel looked at the box then back to Fimion, "Give me the box."  Her eyes were bloodshot, like she'd taken a hit of psycho earlier. 
 
Fimion stared Zel dead in her eyes as his face twisted into a feral snarl, his hand coming to rest on his newly acquired shotgun. There was no way he'd be handing over his box to this bitch. With his other hand he clutched the lockbox closer to his person, gripping it as tightly as he could. 
 
Redding took one last swig from the bottle of whiskey that David had generously provided, setting it down and pushing it away from himself, already sufficiently shit-faced for the occasion. A fuss had started over Fimion's great new box of mystery. Once Fimion's hand touched his gun, he saw Brian's vast form stand up from his chair. Redding spoke first, "Fimion, get your hand off that fucking gun unless you want me to hold you down while Brian cuts it off."
 
Zel, having the patience of a mayfly, said, "Hey, look, over there, there's a Crocabilly Manfucker!"
 
Fimion who had been staring at Redding looked back to Zel. He hadn't the slightest idea what a Crocabilly Manfucker was, but without thinking his eyes darted over to where she was pointing, his chem addled brain only realising moments later he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book. 
 
Zel lurched forward, trying to rip the box from Fimions hands. She added her feet to the occasion, but because she was trying to sit on a barstool this ended with her toppling over, both arms and feet pressed against the box, hopefully pulled towards her. 
 
As Fimion felt the lockbox being pulled from his grasp he frantically clutched onto it with both hands, his gun instantly forgotten as he scrabbled to keep possession of it. As Zel tumbled sideways both the box and a snarling Fimion tumbled after her, the three of them crashing into the barroom floor as they grappled for possession of it. 
 
The cold steel of Redding's .38 nuzzled against the back of Zel's neck and she had enough sense to freeze. Brian took a fistful of Fimion's shirt and hauled him back a few feet, leaving the box in the middle of the two who'd been hissing and spitting like cats over it. Brian shook his big head with Redding, "Fimion, I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you want your reunion with the Cracked Glass to go? Brian stepping on your head like a grape?" He leaned closer to Zel's ear and felt a static buzzing of instinctual danger he ignored, "And you, don't think just because you make my drugs doesn't mean you're above me blowing open your neck." He leaned back and his voice rose, "We're all friends, right? We're all going to sit and have a quiet fucking discussion about why this box is so goddamned important, yeah?"
 
Zel cautiously rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the box. She sat down, her eyes rolling as the box was moved about.
 
It remained to be noted that David went on with rubbing the insides of each glass with a wash towel while the other patrons mostly went about their business. The Cracked Glass was never a fancy establishment, but it was a hardy one. "I'm sorry your first night in town has to go like this, Miss. I usually try to keep the strays away or in line, at least in the parts of town where my name matters." He smiled warmly, though Lilith could probably tell he was very drunk, "I'd be rude if I didn't ask for a name, I'm Redding Schmidt. I may have some business opportunities, but it isn't the kind you'd think of me. I think you've got talent with that gun of yours. How's it sound to put that talent to work for me? My caps are just as real as any of the Families."
 
Lilith had already flicked off the safety and begun to draw her own piece, though she was more occupied with stepping out of the way in case things got uglier. She stood aside until the man who had put a stop to the confrontation introduced himself to her as Redding. "Hardly my first night here," she replied cooly, gingerly sitting back down and turning to face him. "Tell me about these 'business opportunities" of yours, if you don't mind. I'm not questioning your money, but I am. And I need to know just who I'm shooting at - it's not generally conducive to one's health to shoot at the henchmen for the Families unless you're doing it for another one of the Families. Or someone bigger."
 
Redding flashed a wolf's grin, "Hands change every day here." He stood and nodded, "Not long ago, I was a small man out of Fernley with nothing to sell but a trigger-finger. Now, people know me. Business opportunities are as follows- kill the people I send you to kill, kill the people they might send to kill me, get paid. I'm a salesman, of sorts, and my product is a sought-after commodity by the likes of everyone from him and her-" and he thrust a thumb over his shoulder at Zel and Fimion before pointing a finger out at an arbitrary direction, "-to the Dons and Donnas, and the Families out there in the far-off Strip."
 
Fimion stood with a distraught expression as he watched Redding and this woman chat briefly, his eyes occasionally flicking to his box or to Zel who was still staring hungrily at it. What the fuck was this chick's problem? Not only had she tried to take his shit, but now she'd made Redding pissed at him. He decided there was little point in lying to Redding, after all he usually figured it out sooner rather than later. 
 
He waited a few moments longer with his eyes on Zel before with a defeated look he blurted [color=BDB76B]"Look - I'm sorry Redding... But she tried to take my shit!"[/color]
 
He pointed an accusatory finger at Zel as he continued [color=BDB76B]"I took this box fair and square from the Jungle as my fee. I was just gonna see if maybe you could help me open it s'all. That and see if maybe I could see Francine."[/color]
 
"Francine's dead, Fimion." He turned away from Lillith, wolf's grin falling to a drunkard's grimace, "Maybe one of the other girls. While we're talking as friends, Fimion, what is in that box of yours? I can only guess from your fucking reputation it was got in some way I don't want to know about."
 
[color=BDB76B]"Oh"[/color] replied Fimion glumly, his mind still on Francine as he explained [color=BDB76B]"Some cats came into the Jungle n shot up the management, I decided not to stick around and just saw the lockbox they keep all the caps in jus sittin there. Chems too."[/color] he joslted the bulging bag slung over his shoulder as if to verify his story. He looked up from where he had been staring at the ground and asked [color=BDB76B]"How'd she die?"[/color]
 
"Forced overdose. She was a good girl, didn't deserve that." Redding trailed off, sitting back in his stool, "Some people busting in and shooting up the Jungle Gym? Fiends?"
 
Fimion shrugged as he scratched at his arm. [color=BDB76B]"It's not like I stuck around to ask questions."[/color]
 
Lilith had stood to the side, watching ambivalently. She took the chance to inject herself back into the conversation, tapping Redding on the shoulder to remind him of her presence. "Sounds like we have a deal, then." She walked over to where she had left her drink on the bar, taking a generous gulp of its contents. "So, just tell me where to start."