Redding sucked his teeth, nodding, before he took a swig from his bottle. “Thanks, for the information and the beer, friendo.” He raised his bottle to David, “And come around any time, we're always open.”
So, the man in the mask was who he needed to look for. Last person that he talked to was Mancini, and Mancini wanted to talk to him now. What a big ol' stroke of luck that was. He didn't like running around for the native big-wigs past giving them their dues like anyone else making a profit in New Reno. His eyes followed David as he went to serve a new face that'd plopped himself down none but a few seconds ago. The man had a quiet strength about him and a face that had seen better days, for sure, He knew the type, tote a gun in exchange for another man's caps. The stranger glanced back with David and even Redding hazarded a glance of his own, growing a little uncomfortable with his back to the entrance. This man entered without him knowing, who knew the next time someone wanting in on what Redding had could stroll up and give his face a new hole.
It was just a mousy woman sitting on her lonesome, probably came in with the big stranger. Like always, he chose to keep it civil. A wordless nod and a raise of the bottle was enough. He took another swig, then another and sighed. As cliché as it sounded, he just didn't feel like Francine was really dead. He still felt like he'd walk in his room at the hotel and find her lounging on the couch like she always was, a ready smile and a crushed pill waiting for him. Kristi and Bobbi wouldn't take the news well, he knew, mostly because Bobbi was a broad off her rocker since the overdose. A problem for another time, he took another drink and looked in the big stranger's direction to see a girl in one of those vault jumpsuits. He didn't know there were even vaults out there that still had people living in them. “Vault Dweller.” He muttered to himself, no indication in his voice whether he liked that fact or not. Today was becoming far too interesting for his liking.
He rolled his jaw, looking between the Vault-Dweller and Big- figure that was a good enough name for now. He noticed the Vault-Girl seemed distant, a bruised neck, looked like she'd been roughed up good recently. Of course, only one way to learn the wastes were shitty. His gaze slid away from her bruises and scrapes and back to the bartop. He took another swig, reaching in his coat pocket and pulling out two cigarillos. He pushed forward a couple caps and nodded at Vault-Girl to David- for her drink, it meant, but went unsaid. He tucked one cigarillo between his lips, offering the other to Big. Something told him that Big and Little arrived in town and weren't the average tourist.
"Just blew in?" Figured it wouldn't hurt to know a new face without a reputation in New Reno, especially if they were hired guns like he had an inkling they were.
