Dylan, finished with a three day outing to take care of some raiders that took over someone's brahmin farm, walks into Mick and Ralph's. He nods at Ralph, and says "Hey Mick, got some raider gear for you." He drops the pistols and a rifle on the counter in front of Mick. "And it looks like you may need some help with these, if you have the spare Caps." Dylan chuckles to himself, because it's good to be one of the better weapon fixers this side of the Dam.
Mick looks up from the weapons into Dylan's face, "Nope, don't need you fixin' these. I do have a plasma rifle in the back that could use some workin' on. Give ya the usual caps for these and another hundred for fixin' up the rifle. Cot's in the back if ya need a place to sleep." Mick tosses down a few handfuls of caps and sweeps the pistols off the counter, then comes back and takes the rifle and begins to look it over.
Dylan scoops up the caps and deposits them in his cargo-pants pocket, then walks around the counter and into the back. He sees this hunk of metal that's supposed to be a plasma rifle and looks back out at Mick. "Seriously? You think I'm a miracle worker or something? A hundred is not going to be enough for this!" He heads back and sits in front of the 'rifle' and sighs.
Mick comes back, whacks Dylan across the back of the head, and walks over to the locked cage, "Have you been gone a while or what?" He then adopts a parental speech when speaking to a child, "Now, where do we keep the valuable weapons, Dyl? Yes, that's right. In the cages that have the locks on them." Mick then proceeds to take out the damaged plasma rifle, locks the cage back up, and then deposits the rifle unceremoniously into Dylan's lap. After another whack on the back of the head, he heads back out to the counter, shaking his head.
Dylan, slightly embarrassed to have forgotten that and assuming the shell of a plasma rifle in front of him was the correct weapon, begins to work on dismantling the plasma rifle. Several hours go by as he engrosses himself into this work. The hours stretch into three days. On the third day, he looks up when he hears a woman's voice asking for paper, which is a rarity in these parts where most people ask for weapons or armor. He spots the rather sexy looking doctor, and remembers seeing her on several occasions over the last few years. He hears her saying, "Got to stock up, where I'm going." Dylan wonders to himself, Wonder where she is going to need paper.
He finishes popping the optics back onto the plasma rifle and puts it back into the cage, locking it back. He comes out and around the counter, holding the back of his neck as he stretches and proceeds to pop his neck. "Rifle's done, Mick. It's back in prison." He steps up about 6-7 feet from Jordan and asks, "You needing some muscle on this trip you're taking? I'm good with a rifle," he says while patting the butt of his .50cal rifle strapped across his back. "Plus, if you don't grab some ammo with that paper, you may not be coming back. And that would be a shame. I could use another outing into the wastes."