[center] [color=ec008c][b]Shelby Jackson – S&W Weaponry – Salem[/b][/color][/center]

Shelby padlocked the bar on the inside of her garage door then slid to the floor with her back against it. “What’s up?” Asked Waylon as he came into the back to see what all the clatter was about, “You alright Shelby? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

She hiked up her thumb, it shook as she motioned outside, “Tha…there,” she let out a deep breath, “there is a fucking Super Mutant out there.”

“Uh,” Waylon rubbed his chin, “Must be the one I heard strolled into town with a white flag,” he pressed his lips together in thought thinking, “Think I heard his name was Rook, maybe he’s Barney’s brother.”

“So now you’re a fucking comedian Waylon? The shit ain’t funny, what if there are more?”

“Well if their all friendly, then I suppose that would good,” he shrugged.

Shelby shook her head no vigorously, “[B]NO, THAT WOULD NOT BE OK WAYLON[/b],” she clutched her chest to catch her breath, “What if he was ousted like we were and they’re coming for him?” Shelby pulled a note from her pocket and looked at, “Or maybe he just got forgotten about like me?” She crumpled up the note and tossed it into her coal forge, it was quickly turned to ash. “That scare the fuck outta me, you know that.”

Waylon sat down next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders; she let her head rest on his shoulder and watched the flame from the note flicker out. “You know I have your back no matter what, be it relationship, fights, whatever.” She sighed and sniffed back tears; Waylon took his free hand and wiped the tears from her eyes while she nodded in agreement, “I know that you know. Salem is a good thing…for both of us. You’re like my sister, I would die for you.”

Shelby sniffed again and wrapped her arms around Waylon, burying her face into his chest, “I know.”

“If anybody knows how rough you’ve had it, it’s me. Speaking of which, how’s the back healing?”

Shelby broke her embrace and leaned forward pulling up her tank-top, “They can still be tender once in a while, but they’re alright I guess.” Waylon ever so lightly ran his hands across the lashing wounds, still pink from Calypso and breaking up her tattooed wings on her back. She shimmied the top back down. “Paid for it and never got it.”

“C’mon, let’s go to the diner and grab a bite to eat,” Waylon stood up and offered his hand, “I heard Ace got some Radstag and other shit. Thank God, Mirelurk was wearing thin on me; I nearly closed shop to go hunting myself.”

“Surprised he can even shoot anything other than a shot of whiskey,” Shelby quipped back, “I dunno Waylon, that mutant is out there.”

“Don’t worry about him; if he is really going to stay around town, you’re going to have to meet him eventually. I’ll be right there with you, both 1911’s on my hips, you know I’m a quick draw.” Shelby just nodded and went to go upstairs to clean up, Waylon went and flipped the sign and waited out front for Shelby.

She washed up with an old holy washcloth and threw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a dark pink tank-top. She looked in the mirror and brushed out her hair, leaving down despite the heat. She joined Waylon out front of S&W and he locked up shop. “What’s up Ace? Heard you actually got something a little different on the menu?” Shelby quietly slid by and plopped down into a corner booth, she traced figured eights on the cleaned up tabletop.