[Center][color=ed1c24][b]Waylon - Salem - Night[/b][/color][/center]


"Not at all," Frieda replied quickly, before Steve or Edgar could attempt a response.  "Steve, here, has dropped off a turret, or something like that."  Frieda waved him over.  "Steve, have you met Waylon?  He runs the weapons shop.  I'm sure he has the know-how to make sure your turret shoots at the right sorts of people.  You can leave it."  She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Of course he did,” Waylon commented under his breath. He wasn’t very fond of Steve and his place of business. Waylon handed Frieda a beer.

"Whoa," she began, accepting a beer from Waylon and eyeing up his rifle.  "That's a sweet looking piece.  Do you mind?" she held her hands out, Steve and Edgar completely forgotten. "You know your shit," she smiled slyly, handing the rifle back, after having turned it over in her hands a few times.  Frieda took a sip of the beer.  "Oh, cheers, by the way.  Anyways, seems most folk somehow paste together whatever they can find that will fire a bullet.  I stick to my pistol, more often than not.  It's just what I'm used to."  She pat the spot next to her on the rusted hood of the car.  "You comin' up, or what?"

“I like these old rifles, cheers,” Waylon clanked his bottle against Frieda’s as he climbed up and sat down next to her when Steve came over and butt in as usual, Waylon rested his chin in his hand and listened.

“That is predominantly due to the higher level of maintenance required to keep plasma weaponry functional.” Steve replied as he finished setting up the turret “It was also relatively new technology before that war with replacement models and parts being very difficult to find and more than often hoarded by groups like the brotherhood or gunners. Likewise only a few groups like the enclave or instuite had the ability to produce new plasma weaponry and with them now both destroyed it will be many years before any faction, alteast in this region is capable of producing more.”

“I’m gunpowder and lead kinda guy I guess you could say.” Waylon turned and focused on Frieda acting as if Steve and Edgar where not even there.

"So, how does a girl like Brandy not know how to handle a gun properly, yet she's friends with the town quartermaster, huh?" Frieda smirked, taking another sip of her beer.

Waylon laughed and took a sip of his beer, “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen that she is a busy little bee. But, regardless, she doesn’t seem remotely interested in learning about firearms. I mean, she is the peaceful type and is a sweetheart. It does worry me though because if she were to ever get separated from one of us she would be I trouble I fear. I hope that she doesn’t listen to Shelby too much, that could get her into trouble. I saw Betty’s lip; I assume Brandy followed through with Shelby’s advice. I didn’t ask, that Betty girl Ace hired really needs an attitude check.”

Steve spoke “if I could have your attention for a second, I have finished setting up the turret, the targeting system should work fine but If for some reason you need to stop the turret click this button.” Reaching into his pocket Steve then pulled out a cateye pill and swallowed it before looking at his watch muttering...“20 minutes... should be enough.” Before turning his attention back to Frieda and Waylon “I’m going to scout out the atom encampment before going to bed enjoy your...er... Date.” Steve added on not 100% sure what they doing together.  Steve then turned to Edgar who was still glaring at Waylon “Edgar, Edgar? Would you kindly come along now? We are going.”

Waylon drank his beer, his eyes never leaving Edgar’s; he didn’t trust either one of them at all. He watched them until they disappeared into the night sky before he turned to Frieda. “Don’t know about you, but those two guys drive nuts. I know Steve sure got Brandy worked up today to with his sign he put on Ace’s diner.” He got comfortable and smiled, “So, what about you? What brings you to Salem? It’s a new start for Shelby and I, we had to get away from a bad situation, especially Shelby.” He looked down at her plasma pistol, “So, you’re pretty good with those? We get some energy weapons in on trade but Shelby usually takes them apart. She’s made a welder out of the parts, pretty slick actually and she’s good with it.”

He polished off his beer, “You know, I bet Brandy loves having someone stay with her. She would linger around chatting until she was practically asleep at the diner. Like she didn’t want to go home by herself.” He smiled at Frieda, “She can ask a zillion questions, and some things go right over her head but I imagine she’s alright to live with. I know she has quite a bit of interesting inventions she’s built, and her moonshine, that’s some good stuff but you best, be careful otherwise you’ll end up on the floor.”

Waylon was keeping watch, but he concentrated on Frieda, there was a touch of mystery with her that intrigued him greatly. The way she carried herself, the way she sometimes fumbled for words like she was from a different kind of society. Nothing Waylon minded though, he liked that about her. The darkness began to give way to light, which brought a familiar thump of propellers with it. “Is that a vertibird?” Waylon pulled back the bolt on his SKS and readied it for trouble, [i]Calypso[/i]? He thought until the Brotherhood insignia was visible. He nudged Frieda, “Is that Ace up on that roof?” He squint, “Looks like a generator dangling under that bird doesn’t it?”

After the excitement of the vertibird mellowed out, Waylon looked over at Frieda, “So…um, would you be up for dinner later tonight?”