[color=aba000][u][b]The Meld - Late Morning, November 20th[/b][/u][/color]

A newcomer might have surmised that the entire arachnid class of species revived exclusively in the Meld. Glossy fabrics draped across, sometimes between the rustic wooden furniture. Only the trio encased in it knew the madness's method. The heads of Amber, Isabel, and Charlotte popped out. Bradley was wisely dispatched towards hardier missions: felling timber, repelling the Green's fringe forays, other manly matters. A wedding was afoot, and, absent the tailor castes of old, the homestead's women fashioned a gown suitable for their beloved fiery redhead.

Charlotte, the lone veteran in this endeavor, oversaw the process with senses of a hawk. A yardstick and knife her weapons of choice, she carefully cordoned perfect geometric shapes, then sliced them apart with the blade mastery of the fabled samurai. Amid the performance, her ears perked up. "Who did that?"

Amber wasn't the culprit; she was preoccupied sewing lace into her future headdress. Her machine's clacking slowed to momentary pause. She raised her head in expectation. "Is something amiss?"

Isabel ignored Charlotte's urgent demand. She'd lifted the gossamer substance, fumbling underneath it to locate herself misplaced scissors among the hodgepodge of knickknacks she'd accumulated in this accursed side quest. The fabric was so hastily hoisted that wind rushed to fill the void. It made a bulbous shape as the newly formed bubble pocket settled into drapes.

Charlotte stomped over. Her atypical formfitting jeans insured her against bumping her surroundings. With butterfly's grace and rhino's force, she apprehended Isabel's sheet and inspected its fringes. "You tore it!"

"Did not!" blurted the giant in instinctual reply. "I've managed it 'with ladylike fingers,' as mandated! That edge is perfectly intact!"

Charlotte whipped the evidence off the table with an unplanned flurry (and a planned fury), holding it to a light source. Isabel squinted as she reviewed it. "It's just a small tear."

"It's half an inch!" Charlotte retorted. "Do you realize how much this stuff costs? This is prewar material, not homemade knitting! We need every scrap we can save!"

Seconds away from tearing the rectangle entirely in frustration, Isabel deflated. "I'm sorry, Amber."

The bride to be piped up. "What did you- Ah, sugar foot!" The distraction toppled her concentration, The machine veered off kilter, puncturing the frill before decelerating. Time froze. Amber melted into a smile. "Shouldn't be too long to repair, I hope!" She picked at the twine with her index fingernail.

Charlotte reflected upon the example and sighed. "I apologize. I ought not judge too harshly."

Isabel measured a figure in the cloth. "No, I should redouble my vigilance. Seamstresses we are not, but my duty to the Vault must surpass my inadequacies."

"Thank you, Isabel! I appreciate your efforts." It's often difficult to decrypt Amber's demeanor. Did she casually pay attention, merely refreshing the troupe with playful aloofness? Did she keenly follow the dialogue to apply the exact remedy? Charlotte learned not to discern the two hypotheses, and simply gave a flippant thumbs up. "Let's take five. Fresh air will sharpen our wits."

The giantess stretched. "Eve always had gentler hands, and patience for these crafts. Why isn't she here to fabricate this dress?"

"You know exactly why," Amber lied through her teeth.

[color=aba000][u][b]Danny "Nines" Floyd - North Vegas Strip - Late Morning, November 20th[/b][/u][/color]

Daniel by nature walked fast. Ever since leaving the Vault's fortified doors, he relished the vibrant outdoor environments around him. He loved reaching his destination more. Today, however, he led the way to keep his distance from the sisters. They were excellent schemers, and Floyd's gambit remained active. Each one could probably kill him, and opposed to the duo together he had no chance. The cadre slung rifles besides, making the situation yet tenser. They told Isabel he'd mediate as they mended their former rivalry with a leisurely stroll. Perhaps on their journey to Gomorrah, they'd accomplish that. And yet he heard nothing. Flipping eerie.

Eve identified a stone on her path. She primed her calf and impacted it with her instep. It ricocheted off a rusty metal automobile hull, which clanged louder than expected. Nines nearly ducked; the clamor unnerved him.

Faye finally broke the ice. "Shuffles is alright, right?"

"Last I checked." Eve smiled. "Yeah, he's technically your dog, isn't he?"

"We had a whole discussion about it!" Faye squawked. "You don't remember the fetch competition?"

"I recall the baseball smeared with bacon grease," Eve teased.

"You confounded liar!" Faye laughed. "That mutt preferred me, fair and square."

"Better times." Eve didn't concede, but landed the conversation safely. Pressing thoughts weighed on her heart. "We never found your escape routes."

"Oh, that. I used the vents."

"But those circulate back to Filtration."

"Not if, at the temperature moderation unit, you switch to-"

"The exhaust tubing," Eve concluded. "The carbon dioxide won't suffocate you because those facilities don't operate during lockdown. Clever. Must've been a tight squeeze, though."

"My butt still hurts," Faye commented. She glanced roadside. "Nancy recommended that to me. My mind can't conceptualize that she's gone."

"She was so young," Eve lamented. No admittance of culpability, no casting of blame. Purely a reverent acknowledgment of loss.

Daniel hardly conversed with Nancy in what sparing years they shared, but he recognized respect for the recently deceased. He allocated four minutes for bereavement, until he was barely outside Gomorrah's earshot. "You both understand your objectives?" he announced.

"Plain as day," Eve reported. "I'm to survey the water supply, and rejoin with general understanding of their capabilities in fulfilling the deal."

"And I hang with the muscle, to scout out the best talent in case we're allowed to handpick them." Faye apparently felt uncomfortable regarding the changing fortunes but was too shell shocked to protest.

"To remind you, no subterfuge is necessary," Daniel stressed. "Diplomacy works. We genuinely want to make good on our bargain, and there's no harm in basic assurances. If they play coy with you, return the favor."

[color=aba000][u][b]Danny "Nines" Floyd - Gomorrah Front Entrance - Noontime, November 18th[/b][/u][/color]

They nodded and entered the casino in unity. Daniel approached the concierge with a mile wide grin. Would she have knowledge of their confidential history? Of course; she's a secretary. "Howdy," he declared. "We're the gang from the Pinochle Expedition." As if they weren't already immediately identifiable as [i]those foreign yokels[/i]. "As per prior agreements, we'd like to offer our services under your employ and double check a few items of the arrangement. Protection, routine maintenance, stacking chairs. Wherever you've use for us, feel free to dispatch us there!"

Eve upheld her chin slightly, while Faye's eyes were distracted by the nearby flashing lights.