[@Tuxedo Fox]


"You're right-never heard of it." Carson said affably, throwing his cigar away and lighting another. Boss asked the major where he was from as he kind of led him through the hustle and bustle of the streets, hopefully towards his boat. "I'm from DC originally." He told Boss, which was half-true. "Moved about a lot-shot things here, there, and everywhere till I got  wind of the Order. Seems they're hiring freelancers to take on the Revolution, so I thought I'd give it a go. Set out on a little boat with some pals' then those fuckers got us." Boss asked if he'd been on the ocean.

 "The ocean?" The officer said, thinking. "It's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. When you're on a lake, a river, whatever, you know land is somewhere, even if you vacant see it. The ocean just goes on and on and on. You know that before the War people used to cross it for months on end? They'd be trapped on a ship for months. No women, no land, no nothing." He shivered. "Crazy bastards." 


"Here she is. Home sweet home." Boss said, as Carson elbowed aside an over eager vendor on the dockside. 

Home for Boss was a battered barge that looked like it had seen action at the Anchorage front, back before the war that had blown the world to Hell. 

Carson blew out a mouthful of blue smoke. "Nice." Was all he said, following his new-friend? Business partner?associate? Carson didn't know- onto the deck. As soon as the duo did a ragged Ghoul who looked to be as old as the barge he crewed on launched into an exited spiel. He was especially excited about the Eyebot, seeming to think it was for him. When he finally ran out of steam he looked Carson over with displeasure. Carson watched him back with disdain. 

"So who's the smoothskin, Boss?" He asked at last, voice venomous. Carson gave him a knife-thin smile and leaned forward a little. Although his years in the field had removed most of his prejudice towards Ghouls, he still didn't like them all that much. He certainly wasn't going to take any lip from them, that was damn sure.

"The smoothskin is the guy about to kick whatever teeth you have left down your ratty little throat if you call him a "smoothskin" one more time." He said coldly. "Got that, you walking maggot farm?" He spat over the side of the barge in case he hadn't made his feelings clear.