[color=9e0039]CORRINE DOOLAK[/color] - The Plank

[i]"Fine," Rose retorted angrily, "I'll handle this myself then. Its not like I'm not used to it. Its been this way from town to town across the wastes. People just shut their doors and hold their ears, and hope that The Institute doesn't take them. Nobody wants to fight back and nobody is willing to risk their lives to help a Synth. I'll figure out what's going on here one way or the other, and I WILL find the person that killed Bishop. All of you 'tough' harbor folk can go back to drinking yourselves into a stupor."

She then slammed some caps on the counter, then picked up her weapon and stalked out, the door slamming shut behind her. The other locals in the bar looked up for a moment, then back to their drinks. [/i]

"Well", Steve said quietly to Corrine, "That could have gone better." He then added. "I don't live here, so I figured I'd keep my mouth shut and follow your and Longfellow's lead...that was clearly a mistake." 

It...what?  Corrine made to ask him '[i]how do you figure[/i]' but his sudden eye contact stalled her mid-thought.

"You have a gun? Get it if you don't have it on you and meet me at that spot on the Hull we talked at in fifteen minutes. I have a story of my own about "synths" from the Commonwealth that I'll explain to you then....if you don't come looking I'll assume you don't care. In any case, if what she says is true...and I have my own reasons for believing it is...she [i]is[/i] next. And whatever this Institute is, I think I can safely say it doesn't have our best interests at heart. I have no idea who killed Bishop or why...but I'll be damned if I sit around and twiddle my thumbs while some bastard goes around killing people that we, frankly, need badly if we're going to see the sunrise the morning after next."

She watched dumbly as the young man swept off the bench and walked to the door, peeping out for a moment before slipping through it.  Corrine rubbed her face, wondering what had just happened.  Two people in two minutes accused her about not caring about others' problems before storming off, was the gist of it.  [i]Typical mainlander attitude,[/i] was her first reaction.  [i]None of 'em ever try to understand us, but the moment we don't react the way they think we should, it's a hearty 'well, fuck you, too!'[/i]

She sighed, deflating slightly onto the table, eyeing her empty glass.  "If I care," she mumbled to herself, feeling hurt and defensive at the same time.  "Didn't I make a point of showin' you how beautiful my home is, an' why I'd rather die protecting it than flee?"

The patrons at the next table turned to look at her with quizzical expressions.  Corrine realized she had been muttering out loud.  "And?" she growled at them, her face flushing in embarrassment.

As if it couldn't get more embarrassing, the door flung open as Errick strolled in from a return to the outhouse -- which, more accurately, meant he likely just pissed off the side of the pier -- and he stopped the second he spotted her sitting alone.  "What's this?!  Where's yer date, Corrine?  He get back on a boat after he figured out yer age difference?"

Corrine clenched her arthritis-riddled knuckles and trembled.  "Seems I missed the part where that were any of [i]yer[/i] business."

Errick leaned against the opposite bench, grinning.  "Maybe he was looking for more of a...carnal tour?"

Corrine rolled her eyes and showed herself out, but not before flipping a certain finger over her shoulder at Errick.  Several patrons burst into laughter.

"We love ya, Corrine!" someone called at her just before the door banged shut.

She took a deep, calming breath, before she marched herself to her bunk in the common house.  The gun she owned was no more than some antique by that point.  It was her father's and hadn't been fired, let alone maintained, for several years.  She sat brooding on her bunk, turning the firearm over and over in her fingers, frowning.

[i]Perhaps he's a gunsmith, too.  Otherwise, I guess I could hit someone with it, or throw it at them.[/i]  Her stomach fluttered as she looked at it.  Corrine couldn't determine if she was nervous about what he'd say to her, next, or the thought of a terrible battle was making her worried.

She took a deep breath and swallowed on her dry throat.  She put the pistol into her coat pocket, stood, and made her way back to the Hull to wait for him.