SkrtWithAWeapon

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

FRIEDA RICHTER -- Salem Clinic - Very, very late morning to early afternoon

"Uhhh..." Arthur stuttered, seeming to hesitate, "Right!...right of course." He immediately left the room and beckoned for Frieda to follow him. He had hardly glanced around for a moment before he found the scissors she'd asked for, "Mindful of the edge. Its sharper than it looks," He said as he handed them off to her.

"Most things are, it seems," she replied under her breath.

"I should get back to treating Ms. Summer. Thank you again for the supplies Ms. Richter, and for the help. Lord knows I could use it." Frieda nodded and turned to step outside for a cigarette, when he added, "..and you're right. I'm not from around here. I'm...from a vault. Vault...uh...vault 88. It's well...its a long story."

"I'm sure it is," she winked, not meaning to sound as sarcastic as she did, but...well, it was the truth. Who didn't have generations worth of a story in the wasteland? The doctor all but dove onto the first aid kit and began muttering to himself. Frieda shook her head and went outside, around the corner, and stood in the shadow of the church to have her cigarette.

Frieda gazed over the market square, her eyes landing on the plasma scar still burned into the dirt. Something still didn't add up about the doc, and she wasn't totally sure what it was. There had been other, more rare occurrences in her life when the response to the word "Enclave" had been an ignorant "huh, oh, really?" so it wasn't totally out of the ordinary...

...maybe it was the way he repeated the word "vault," as if he were convincing himself, as much as her?

She blew her smoke out of her nostrils, the idea still nagging her, but no answers came. Ah, well. No sense in trying to force it. It'll come to me, eventually, I'm sure. Plus, he didn't flat out decline a later talk. Frieda snuffed out her smoke and returned to the inside of the clinic, twirling the scissors on her finger, and headed back towards the storage room. The space was a little cramped for unfolding an entire bed sheet and shearing it into strips, but she wasn't in a total hurry and made do with the space she had. Frieda began to hum while she worked, finding a twisted pleasure in having simple busywork to do for several hours.

CELESTE BROWN -- Sandy Coves Inn -- late morning to early afternoon

Adam gave a short exhale of a laugh and smiled as he ran a hand through his grey and brown beard, "No thanks, Ma'am. I put business over relaxing. I'll be 'round back and show you what I'd like." He turned to head out back, then and turned, smiling, "Then we'll talk about that coffee." and went out side to look out back.

"My heavens," Celeste sighed, reaching a hand up to her heart.

"Everything all right, Manager Celeste?" asked Archie, drawing up from behind her.

"Everything's fine," she replied dreamily, then looked around to recall that someone was missing. "Where's Brandy?"

"Ahh, Ms. Brooks asked if she could rifle through the refuse out back. Did you not hear her ask?"

Celeste blinked, then swallowed. "I, um, suppose I did not..."

"Well, in any case, I told her she was free to loot through and take what she liked, much as you did for Mr. Wilford."

"...oh! Well, that's great! I hope she doesn't think I was ignoring her."

"But you were ignoring her."

Celeste blushed fiercely once more. "Not on purpose! Anyways -- what have you got around here that would be fit for baking up some scones?"

"I believe there remain some perfectly sealed tins of flour and baking powder in the basement --"

"PERFECT!" Celeste nearly shrieked, tearing off into the kitchen. "I need those, right away, and any shortening, cinnamon and sugar you might have, too." She fiddled with the dials on the oven, eventually coaxing them to life. Celeste pulled up a wooden stepping stool up to the counter island and neatly lined up her ingredients: flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, pumpkin pie spice (for whatever reason, there was a huge stash of it in the basement, but no plain cinnamon), and a block of shortening. An odd, oily, unpleasant smell began to waft from the oven as it heated up. Celeste had begun to combine ingredients for some fresh scones and had thought the oven was just burning off some centuries-old residue, but the smell kept getting worse. "Archie?" she called out towards the hallway.

Dutifully, the robot appeared. "Yes, manager?"

"Can you check what is making that terrible smell in the oven? I've got my hands full, here."

"Is there an odd smell? My olfactory sensors must be damaged, or acting up. Anyways, of course I'll investigate." Archie opened up the oven to reveal a partially-decayed radroach had begun to roast in the oven. "Oh...oh, dear."

Celeste immediately covered her nose and mouth with both hands. "Oh, my god! Archie! Get it out, right now!!"

"Absolutely, right away." The robot glided across the kitchen, opened up a high cupboard, retrieved an ancient roasting pan, then returned to the oven to pull out the rack and dispose of the radroach. It slid into the roasting pan, making a sound that was half crunch, half splat.

"C-can you scrub off any guts, too, Archie? Please? And quickly, before the whole place begins to reek."

"I will work as quickly as possible." Archie pulled out his small blowtorch and charred any of the roach remains on the shelf, turning them into so much dust. The robot then rose with the roasting pan, left through the front door, and returned several moments later.

"Did you --"

"Tossed the whole lot into the sea, yes." For a robot, it sounded disturbed by what it just had to do.

Celeste sniffed and wiped her nose, smearing some flour onto her face. "Well, that's...great. Thank you, Archie."

Within twenty minutes, Celeste had rolled, cut, and placed her scones into the oven. Approximately twenty minutes after that, she pulled them carefully out of the oven and placed them onto the stove to cool. She leaned over and took a deep inhale of the spicy, sweet aroma. "That should take care of any rotten radroach stink, I think!" she declared, feeling satisfied.

"Miss Celeste! I got stuff here outside," Adam called from the front.

"Be right out!" she replied, dusting her hands on a ratty looking dishtowel, before exiting through the front door. She saw Adam standing there with an old pre-war chest. "Oh, I remember that from yesterday!" She followed his gesture and lifted the lid, carefully rifling through its contents. An old photo, other assorted memorabilia lay within.

"I figure the box is worth about 100 caps at most, but I'll throw in about 115 for good measure. Most of this stuff is junk, so it's not worth much in general, but I want it, so I'm always willing to pay a little extra to get the things I want."

"Golly! That's...quite generous," Celeste gushed. "Thank you! Please, why don't we settle up inside, hmm? I made some scones and believe I owe you a coffee." She held the door open for him. "I'd love to hear more about what's so special about that stuff. I've met a few folks in my life who were into pre-war things but I don't think I've ever met a collector so...passionate."

She was laying it on a little thickly, but she didn't care. She was just glad to have his attention for a few moments. Celeste led Adam to the hallway and gestured towards the dining hall, where a setting had been placed upon one of the repaired tables. "Now, you just sit right there and let me get you one of these warm scones and some coffee!" she grinned. As she entered the kitchen, the front door closed and she heard a voice call out "hello?"

"Aw, geez. Archie?" Celeste cried once more, hoping the robot could take care of the front desk so she could go back to chatting with Adam, but to her surprise, the robot didn't respond. "Must be out of hearing range," she muttered. She sighed, straightened her dress and posture, then stepped out to the front desk.

"Hello! Can I help yo-ooo-oooou're a super mutant," she rambled upon the sight of Rook. Recognition crashed into her like a sack of potatoes. "You're Brandy's friend. From the diner. I. Yes. Ahem." She attempted to compose herself and continued to ramble. "How can I help you?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

I know this really makes no difference in the grand scheme, but I just want to point out that in the order of things, Nut was meant to go first in speaking to Skirt IC. I don't know why, but the fact it got overlooked has be a bit bothered. Not mad or annoyed at anyone, just more bugged the oversight itself happened.

@Kouropalates

I interpreted it that way which was why I formatted the response to have him go first. Hope that was okay :s

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

FRIEDA RICHTER -- Salem Clinic -- Late Morning

Frieda quietly followed the doctor to the back of the church. He appeared physically exhausted and she couldn't help but notice he tensed at the mention of caps for the supplies.

"Look...I can't pay Celeste for the supplies. I don't even have the uh..caps," there was an odd lilt in his voice when he used the word. "But, I need them regardless. The young woman back there needs proper medical treatment to prevent further infection and Eliza..." he pointed upwards, to the second floor, "Is still on the path to recovery. I don't understand what is it with you wastelanders. Everything has a price. Everything has its cost. Every chance is an opportunity to get more money or chems...or..or whatever! And god-forbid we work together communally to actually do something other than live in abject squalor and moral degradation our entire lives! For Pete's sake, there was a woman lying on the floor of the diner dying and people kept on eating their lunch like it was...oh..you know..just a merry ol' average day. Woman just got mugged and nearly shot to death, but hey...just another lovely day in The Commonwealth of Massachusetts right?"

Frieda's eyes widened, her mouth slightly open, a response not immediately available. The doctor took a breath to compose himself, then continued.

"Sorry," He said, calmly, "Didn't uh...didn't mean to get heated there. I'm running off well..no sleep right now and I could just about murder for a decent cup of coffee that isn't made with a 200 year old tin of Slocum Joe's....well not literally of course. Figuratively. I wouldn't you know actually...nevermind. Anyway..."He gave a quick shake of his head and changed the subject, "....I don't exactly know what Celeste wants for the supplies, but it can't be caps. That much I'm certain of."

Frieda looked around and behind her, to ensure they were alone. The brutish man had hung back, or left, but either way his form wasn't visible. She took a small step towards the doctor. "Look, I'm with you, on that point. On all your points. For what it's worth, Celeste doesn't really care about being paid, but if I didn't say something, it would have looked suspicious. I'll handle her." She glanced around, again. "I knew you were...different, somehow, from when I saw you last night at the diner. Familiar, in a way. Your skin texture, your hair. You didn't grow up scraping in the dirt like the rest of these," she swallowed hard, "people. And, neither did I."

She straightened her posture and offered a quick salute. "It's Richter, Frieda Richter, formerly Class Triple A, air division, of the Enclave. Division 59N-39." She gave a small smile, and a nod. "I don't get a military vibe, but you sure as shit aren't surface dweller, either."

Frieda took the same small step back. "I'm...not good with people. I came here to connect with you, not threaten you. I know how important it is to hide in plain sight, in a way. I crashed my Vertibird -- by accident, but it's a boon, of sorts. The Enclave will have found the vehicle totalled and likely assume me dead. I didn't exactly ask for permission to leave, but they won't be chomping at the bit to find out if I survived. I know that from experience."

"I think we should...talk. Later, though, when you're not so busy, or exhausted. There was a trader in town -- two, actually -- and maybe I can see about getting us some real coffee." Her expression softened. "Meantime, let me help you at least prep the linens. I only have very basic field medic training, which extends as far as, 'cover what's bleeding and call for help'." Frieda gently pushed some hair out of her face. "Pass me some scissors, and I'll get to work. Just going to step out for a smoke."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

CELESTE BROWN - Sandy Coves Inn - Mid-morning (~11 AM)

"Go on, partner. I'm in no rush." The older gent crossed his arms and politely deferred to the larger, more gruff looking man.

After the merchant had done his talk, the larger man added a brief: “As for me. The doctor in the clinic at the church asked for spare supplies. Anything from antiseptic to bandages and medicine.” He paused before adding “there's a heavily wounded woman who needs these supplies to avoid getting sick.”

Don't no one got any manners, left? Celeste nodded as she understood what the man was saying. The shrewd businessman blood in her veins began to show through. "This doctor, he wants me to just give these supplies to him, for free? Assuming I have them?" She tapped her foot as the gears turned in her head. "I mean, to be fair, it would be bad business practice for me to simply give away some of my supplies without something in return. I imagine the doctor is charging money for his services?"

There seemed to be an awkward pause in the room. It was Frieda who spoke from behind her.

"Why don't you send me with the supplies, as your, uh, representative? I'll bring him some linens and drugs but won't leave them unless he pays."

Celeste considered it. It was the robot, Archie, that piped up, first.

"No need for that, Miss Frieda! I represent the inn myself and could easily take on such a task with little fuss."

Frieda stepped between Celeste and the robot, holding up her hand. "I absolutely insist. Both of you have your hands full here, at the moment, and I'd be glad to help. Give me what you're willing to spare, and your lowest price, and I'll negotiate something in between."

Celeste noticed a look between Brandy and Frieda but had no idea what it could mean. She turned, instead, to the robot. "I think that sounds okay?"

"As you wish, manager," the robot replied. "Please, do follow me," he chimed at Frieda, spinning around and retreating through the door into the kitchen and towards the basement stairwell. Frieda hastily followed.

The first man approached and nodded. "Ma'am," he began, reaching up for a hat that wasn't there. "Oh...this is embarrassing. Seems I left my cap back at the shed." He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Sorry, was working on my fishing boat and I didn't wash my hands before I came into town."

Celeste giggled in spite of herself, finding a particular charm in the man's awkward attempt at being polite. "I've got a sink you can borrow, if you like."

He cleared his throat to continue. "Name's Adam Wilford, scavenger and merchant by trade....and a little side work in repair too." He put his hand to his side when he finished his introduction. "I'm not really one to beat around the bush, so I'll just come out and get to business. I heard your ol bed n' breakfast here ain't running yet. I was wondering if maybe you might be willing to let me look around for anything good. I will pay top shelf for it if you're willing to sell." He dug around in his pockets and found a worn leather pouch and muttered to himself, "Oops, that's the personal funds. Need the....business!" He found the blue pouch and put a bag of 500 caps out to her to count. "See? So you know I ain't some 'dine and dash' trader trying to rip you off."

Celeste all but rubbed her eyes in her astonishment, hardly able to believe that the man in front of her had so casually pulled out such a sum of money and dangled it in front of her. "I...well, that's...I mean..."

Adam put the pouch back in his jacket. "If not, that's alright. I'm overdue for a meal that ain't canned and cooked on a hotplate too if you're up for mealtime. Or both, really."

"O-oh! No, not at all!" She felt her cheeks begin to flush. He had a certain rugged handsomeness about him that had caused her heart to beat just a little bit faster. He was so calm about life in the wasteland, but also self-assured. It was...stunning. "Too bad you weren't here yesterday, Archie and I spent most of the day picking up and tossing out the junk, including the broken robots. Most of it just got piled up behind the building. But, you're welcome to take a look around, and I'm sure I can toss up something edible for you without a problem. I've already made some coffee, if you'd like?"

Archie reappeared with Frieda, loaded up with some plain linens and what appeared to be a toolbox. "Success, Manager Celeste! I found about four plain bed sheets that were simply redundant and a spare first aid kit that's never been opened. I do believe that should help the doctor with his conundrum, hmm?"

"How much do you want for it?" Frieda chirped, appearing uncomfortable but still holding her burden with little difficulty.

"I...ahh..." Celeste was starting to have second thoughts about demanding money from the doctor, but she figured she should at least try. "Ask for three hundred but you can go as low as one fifty. Does that seem fair?"

"Well now, assuming these sheets would have helped service at least four beds in our establishment, at eight caps a night, three hundred and sixy five days in a year, a quick calculation comes to a loss of eleven thousand, six hundred and eighty caps. Minus the three hundred you are charging for the supplies, that is."

Celeste furrowed her brow as she tried to think very hard upon how the robot even came to that number, let alone how much money eleven thousand caps even was. "So...yes?"

Frieda spluttered a laugh. "Do you want to sell the stuff, or not?"

Feeling annoyed, Celeste waved her hand and stomped past the tall blonde and the robot. "Tell him three hundred caps and go from there." With that, she retreated into the kitchen and began to bang around in an attempt to cook up a meal for Adam.

FRIEDA RICHTER - Sandy Coves Inn - Mid-morning

Brandy was far more kind and excited about the whole tour than she was. Politely, she followed the two women as Celeste dragged them all through the decrepit, dusty, ruined building, gushing about things like running water and a working robot. It made her deeply homesick. Something within her wished she could laugh about the primitiveness of it all with her brother, the realization that she may never talk to him again hitting her like a punch in the gut.

Hold it together, Richter.

They were led onto a balcony overlooking the dining hall. Celeste and Brandy gabbed about its potential while Frieda just looked around, caught up in her own thoughts. Eventually they had found themselves back in the foyer with visitors. She leaned against the door frame and observed the scene in front of her. She had all but tuned out the entire conversation until the large, brutish man spoke up.

"I mean, to be fair," Celeste was saying, "it would be bad business practice for me to simply give away some of my supplies without something in return. I imagine the doctor is charging money for his services?"

The doctor! Frieda nearly fell over. The man from the diner, the night before, with the soft demeanour and even softer looking skin. This could be her chance to get him on his own and ask him some questions, namely, about his origin. Part of her knew it would be a stretch to even hope he was from some pocket of Enclave she didn't know, and he could, perhaps, help her in her search for her brother.

Frieda quickly jumped in to the conversation. "Why don't you send me with the supplies, as your, uh, representative? I'll bring him some linens and drugs but won't leave them unless he pays."

"No need for that, Miss Frieda! I represent the inn myself and could easily take on such a task with little fuss," the damn robot interjected matter of factly.

Frieda stepped between Celeste and the robot, holding up her hand. "I absolutely insist. Both of you have your hands full here, at the moment, and I'd be glad to help. Give me what you're willing to spare, and your lowest price, and I'll negotiate something in between." She truly hoped she sounded convincing. Frieda caught Brandy's eyes and saw an odd expression cross her face, but did not otherwise respond.

Celeste turned to the robot. "I think that sounds okay?"

"As you wish, manager," the robot replied. "Please, do follow me," he chimed at Frieda, spinning around and retreating through the door into the kitchen and towards the basement stairwell. Frieda hastily followed.

"Watch your step," the robot continued, effortlessly gliding over the stairs that were in an extreme state of disrepair. Frieda, while quite physically fit, wouldn't have considered herself particularly agile and found herself trying to keep her balance desperately as she tip-toed down the stairs.

"This way," Archie turned abruptly, leading Frieda through a maze of shelves packed with an assortment of all things needed to host folks expecting the full range of hospitality. Cleaning supplies, linens, robes, clothing, spare dishes, down to groundskeeping items such as rat poison and flower seeds, were jammed into ever nook and cranny. Frieda marvelled at the supply, wondering how exactly so much had been acquired when the majority of the living world struggled with scarcity before the bombs fell.

"Here we are, Ms. Frieda." The robot had in its arms a pile of bed sheets, neatly folded, though not freshly laundered. They smelled starchy but also dusty. At least they were clean.

"Ah, great!" she replied, taking the linens from the robot's several arms. "What about antiseptic and drugs?"

"What about them, indeed," Archie seemed to mutter, floating through the shelving and towards an opposite wall. Frieda followed, though before she could find any of the items, the robot produced a sealed and pristine first aid kit. "Would you look at that!" it gushed proudly, holding the kit up by its handle. "Never once opened. Can you believe that? I wonder why it would have been left down here, like this."

"Because it was a spare?" Frieda answered, a thread of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, quite. Perhaps." Archie did not sound impressed with her response. "Well, then, shall we return to the others?"

"Tell him three hundred caps and go from there," Celeste concluded tersely, following their return to the foyer and a discussion on price.

"Well, all right!" Frieda looked at Brandy and smiled. "See you later. Why don't we meet at the diner for some dinner? My treat." She turned her attention back to the large man still loitering at the door. "Shall we?"

They stepped back out into the sunshine. Frieda plodded down the ruined roadways towards the church. "I'm Frieda, by the way," she offered, hoping the man would offer her the same.

She nearly tripped walking into the church, not quite able to see over her stack of linens and stumbling upon some rubble. Frieda looked around and immediately locked her attention upon the doctor.

Well dressed, well groomed. Definitely conditioned habits from somewhere much more disciplined than anywhere on the godforesaken surface. "Hey there," she called in, holding up the linens, the first aid kit dangling by its handle in her right hand. "Where do you want these?"

Frieda turned, keeping her grip on the items. "No, please, let me carry them. If you wouldn't mind showing me where to put them?" She really wanted to have a moment with the doctor, beyond other eyes and ears. "By the way, Celeste would like three hundred caps for the lot, if you've got it. We can negotiate that privately, too." She shifted her weight, hoping the didn't sound too obvious in her attempt to talk to the doctor one on one.

In From The Fog: A Fallout Far Harbor Roleplay

CORRINE DOOLAK - Gate at The Hull

Her body felt like it was buzzing. Corrine rubbed her knuckles, both out of habit, and as a nervous fidget. How long had she been standing there? Where was Steve? Where was...anyone?

The sun was almost completely set. Her duffle bag of scant affairs was starting to feel heavy. She shifted her weight between her feet. Approaching footsteps caused her to turn, her heart doing a jump as she hoped it was Steve.

It was Castner.

“You have the most experience out of all of us with the island.”, he said as greeting to Corrine. “I know that doesn’t mean you often spend time outside the walls at night, but it still should mean you’re better equipped than any of us to deal with this.”

"Uh. Right," she offered as paltry response. "Generations of us have been told...been conditioned, to stay in after dark. The fog is disorienting on any given day. Add some scant moonlight and foolishness and you have a death wish," Corrine finished, bitterly. She paused. "I know my way around, that much is true. An' I'm committed to helping us succeed to the best of my...ability. Or, whatever." Corrine turned her gaze to her toes.

Castner replied on a different topic. “How’s your relationship with Steve? He seems like a good man."

Steve. Her body relaxed at the thought of him. She tried not to blush too hard, but it was impossible. "I only met him this afternoon," she admitted. "He was soft spoken and polite. Then, it turns out, he's smart, an' good at fixing things. Plus, he seems to like me, enough." She turned her gaze back up towards Castner's face, smiling sheepishly. "I don't know if it's just that I haven't felt like that in a long time, or if he's the real deal, but I..." She crossed her arms, pulling her coat tighter around her body. "I hope we live to see tomorrow, and many more."

She rolled her shoulders back. "Why do you ask, though?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

@Kouropalates@DinoNuts Celeste has addressed both your chars, so whoever wants to reply first...;)

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

CELESTE BROWN - Sandy Coves Inn - Morning

“I think it will be great when word gets out. I mean, it is already great, but when more people can enjoy it will be something special.” Brandy places her finger over her mouth, “You know Celeste, I brew my own moonshine. You have the space, I have the knowledge to make a one of a kind alcohol, I think that space would make a nice honky tonk...bar kinda thing. I also have some interesting recipes for potatoes and onions if you have a deep frier. But we can talk about that some more later, I told Rook that I'd help with the wall.”

Celeste's eyes widened. Moonshine! "Hold up, are you serious?" She could barely believe what Brandy had just old her. "You'd...you'd distill out of my inn?!"

They were approaching the foyer again. Before Celeste could continue questioning Brandy, the digital voice of Archie could be heard, talking to...someone. Brandy was there, first. Celeste thought she recognized the man at the counter, but wasn't totally sure. She was pretty tired the night before and couldn't remember everyone she saw, if she hadn't talked to them.

"Woah, slow down there, hoss. I ain't here for room and board. I'm uhhh, here to speak to your boss. Tempeste? Selista? Somethin' like that?"

Brandy walked out and waved, “Good morning,” she offered a pleasant smile and pointed, “That's Celeste.”

"Good morning!" Celeste chirped in addition. "Can I help you, sir?"

A rather large man with some pretty intense scars walked in just moments after the first, “Do you work here, or know the person that works here? Emergency.”

Brandy blinked, then pointed at herself, “Na...no, I don't, the robot is Archie and Celeste over there is the owner.”

"...hello," Celeste replied awkwardly, offering a small wave.

“Emergency? Is everything OK? Can I help?" Brandy continued.

Celeste looked over her shoulder to see Frieda remained loitering in the doorway to the hall, appearing slightly interested but generally disconnected to what was going on. She's so weird. She returned her attention to the folks in her foyer and cleared her throat, trying not to sound annoyed. "Sorry to interject," she smiled, tilting her head to look up at both men standing in front of her. "I'm Celeste Brown," she repeated for emphasis, flipping some curls off her shoulder and smiling her sweetest smile. "This is the Sandy Coves Inn, and my assistant there is Archie."

"Pleasure to meet you!" Archie greeted in a pleasant sounding, though robotic, voice.

"I'd be glad to help out as best I can," Celeste continued, "but you're all gonna have to tell me what it is that's goin' on. So!" She placed her hands on her hips and stood up as tall as she could, which truly, was not very tall. "Who wants to go first?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

CELESTE BROWN -- Salem Diner

"I'm closing up soon," Ace had announced. Frieda had escorted what looked like a sloppy Brandy from the establishment, and soon, many others paid their tabs and left.

"Thanks for dinner, Ace! I'll see ya soon, I hope!" she chimed, a genuine smile on her face, before she slipped off her stool and left as well. She thought she heard a gun go off, and nearby, when suddenly Brandy's voice could be heard declaring "I'M OKAY!!!"

"Jeepers," Celeste giggled. She walked back into the inn, closing the door behind her.

"Ah, Manager Celeste! Welcome back. Did you enjoy your time in town?"

"Yes, it was fine. I met some more settlers over at the diner." Celeste yawned and stretched. "Well, we're open for business, but we don't have any boarders."

"I will manage the innkeeping overnight while you rest, manager," the bot replied.

"Oh," she yawned again, "fantastic." Celeste padded her way past the desk and into the hallway. "Oh, and in the morning, you need a proper name, okay? Remind me to think of something great."

"I certainly will. Oh, by the way, what's our nightly rate?"

Celeste paused, tapping her nose as she thought. "Gosh, I hadn't thought about that. Ummm...what about...eight caps?"

"Eight caps it is, Manager. Rest well!"

MORNING

Celeste woke feeling rested, though momentarily confused as to where she was. For a split second, she was looking for her bedroom walls in Niagara Falls, but instead of panicking, she reminded herself she was waking up in the inn. In her inn. She smiled to herself, wiping some rebel curls off her forehead, before getting out of bed.

She dressed herself in a short green dress with ruffled sleeves and a pair of comfortable, strappy brown sandals, and went out to the front desk. The smell of coffee greeted her, much to her surprise. "Good morning!" she chimed to the robot.

"Ah, Manager Celeste! I took the liberty of preparing some coffee, I hope that was quite all right. I realized I didn't even think to ask your preference before you went to bed."

"Coffee is wonderful," Celeste purred, sauntering into the kitchen and pouring herself some of the fresh brew into a mug. She hugged it with both hands and inhaled its aroma blissfully, before coming back out to the front counter. "Any customers overnight?"

"Sadly not, Manager. If you like, I can return to tidying up the dining hall? I found some spare paint in the basement and thought the walls could use a bit of a touch up."

Celeste blinked. "Wow, yes! Sure!"

"Most excellent! Well, just ring if you need me, hmm?" The robot floated off into the kitchen.

"Huh! Well aren't you helpful." Suddenly, she gasped, slamming her hands on the counter. "That's it!"

The robot turned. "What's that, Manager?"

"Archie! Your name is Archie!"

It paused. "That's most creative, Manager Celeste! 'Archie' it is, then."

Celeste perched herself on the stool behind the counter, sipping on her coffee, glancing around for something to do or organize and came up short. She pulled open all the drawers, being nosy as she was curious, and found an old Boston Bugle with an incomplete word search.

An hour later, she'd consumed three cups of coffee and found herself stuck trying to find PERILOUS. It simply seemed to be missing from the puzzle part. The smell of paint had overtaken the inn as the robot hummed and painted the dining hall.

She was bored.

A more intelligent person would likely be fretting for the viability of her business, or even, attempting to think of ways of drawing in more folks, but not Celeste. She was content to sit there, behind the counter, staring at the ancient word search, and simply hope someone walked in.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked Brandy, followed by Frieda. The latter was nearly unrecognizable with her hair down and in such soft colours. “Good morning Celeste,” Brandy greeted her cheerfully as she looked around, “This place is amazing.”

Celeste straightened and smiled. "It is a good morning!" she replied. Frieda merely smiled. Just then, the robot entered the reception area from the kitchen.

Brandy's eyes widened. “That is fantastic and this place is HUGE!!”

"Visitors! Welcome, welcome!" the robot chimed. "We do hope you enjoy your stay here at Sandy Coves."

"They're not here to stay, Archie," Celeste corrected. "These are some people I met just last night, Brandy, and Frieda."

"Ah, I see. Well, do take care not to loiter about too much, hmm? Please excuse me, I must retrieve some more paint from the basement. One of those cans had the bones of a dead animal in it and was totally dried out."

The colour drained from Celeste's face. "The paint, or the bones?"

Archie seemed to hesitate. "Both, I suppose. In any case, lovely meeting you all!" It floated out from behind the receptionist area, back down the hall, and completely out of sight.

She came out from around the desk and put her hands on her hips, having to look up at both the other two women in her presence. "Well, why don't I take you both on a tour, huh? Then you can at least tell people you've seen it and it's fantastic," she winked.

Celeste began by leading them up the stairwell immediately sprouting off the foyer. She pointed out the different rooms, gushing about how each of them have their own bathrooms with real, working plumbing. "They're all just so unique, you know? One was decorated all pre-war military style, another was full of boats, then there was one covered in paintings...just such a fascinating place!"

She led them onto the balcony that overlooked the dining hall. "Now this is one of my favourite things: the big ol' dining hall. Ace runs a fine diner, and I'm not about to try and compete with that, but just look at that big room! The robot fixed up a bunch of the tables and chairs, so there's lots of places to sit. Maybe I should try an' collect some books and magazines, maybe just turn it into a coffee shop? I do make a decent scone..."

"Anyways," she shrugged, "it seems like a big waste of space if I don't do something cool with it, you know?" Celeste motioned for the women to continue following her.

"That's my room," she pointed to her quarters. CELESTES RUME had been written onto the door in permanent marker. "This is the kitchen -- it's not as big as the one in the diner, I'd imagine, but it will get the job done! There's a little coffee left, if either of you are interested? Just help yourself!"

Finally, Celeste led them back into the foyer. "That's that! The whole place. It's only eight caps a night. Not too steep for a place with clean linens, huh?" She grinned, looking between both women. "What do you think?"

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

FRIEDA RICHTER - Brandy's house - Morning

“No, no I don’t. Barney would be your best bet, or Ace, or maybe even Waylon and Shelby at the gun shop, S&W.” Brandy pointed in the general direction of S&W, “It’s across town. I know they both know a lot about guns and stuff, but I’m not sure what else they do. Shelby can be kind of…mean sometimes. But I think she has emotional issues or something, but who am I to talk?”

Frieda was worried about having to go crawling back to Barney. She nodded to acknowledge the help.

Brandy looked around, “I usually don’t charge anything to help work on stuff, I just want to make it as nice as I can and if somebody pays me, then awesome. But, if not, as long as they pay for the supplies I don’t say anything. I’m pretty lucky though, most of the time I get the leftover stuff, or salvage things from what I’ve replaced. Keeps me supplied with materials and I can trade some things for food and whatnot.”

"Well, I have a sharp eye for, um, operating tech, and detail. I could help you use your pistol a bit more effectively, too. I'd be more than happy to help you become a bit stronger with your firearm."

Brandy stood up and cleared the table, washing the dishes as soon as they hit the sink, “I try to keep my house clean. In case somebody is interested in my work and wants to see what I can do before they hire me ya know.” She dried the dishes off and put them away before she pulled out two bags and sat them on the counter. She dug in the fridge and pulled out two small packages of smoked jerky she had made dropping one in each bag, followed a bag of Potato Crisps, a package each of Fancy Lads, a bottle of water and some gum drops. She rolled up the top of the bags and turned to Frieda, “Here’s a lunch for today, I mean, since we both forgot to eat yesterday. “ She laughed and handed the sack lunch to Frieda, “I have to go get ready, I have to help Rook with the wall after I stop and see Celeste and…” she blinked and grinned ear to ear, “…and Ace.”

Frieda stared at the packed lunch. It brought up a lot of feelings and memories she wasn't ready for. "Thanks," she said, softly.

Brandy took off up the stairs humming as she went into her room. Frieda was left alone once more with her thoughts. She drummed her fingers on the table while she daydreamed. She and Brandy planned to see Celeste's place, but it sounded like her first stop should be the diner, too. She went back up the stairs herself and started rummaging for something clean-ish to put on after a shower.

“Frieda," Brandy called from the bathroom, "I made this toothpaste, it’s purified water and baking soda with a dash of mint flavoring. I’ll leave it by the sink.”

"Oh, great," she mumbled, more distracted by her own task than anything. Brandy came back to her door, a curious tone in her voice. “Frieda? I have to do some laundry later; I do have some clothes that are a little big for me if you want? Just go through my closet, they’re the shirts on the left and the pants and shorts on the top shelf on the left are big too.”

"Are you trying to say that I smell?" Frieda teased. "Thanks, I just might do that."

Brandy scurried down the stairs, rummaged around, before yelling up, “I’m going to stop and see how Ace liked his breakfast, if you want to go see Celeste’s place I will wait for you at the diner.”

"Okay, good plan." Frieda helped herself to Brandy's wardrobe as suggested. She nearly fell over at the sheer number of cute little dresses hung up so neatly in a row. She looked to the left and frowned at the pants and shorts, fairly certain they weren't going to fit her, even if they were too big for Brandy. She gratefully selected a pastel blue tank top and what looked like a faded yellow sports bra, then made her way into the bathroom for a shower. Ten minutes later, she was towelling off and felt renewed. She pulled on the sports bra, tank top, and a pair of her own cargo pants before brushing through her wet hair, and leavning the house. She'd closed the front door and taken two steps, before she turned on her heel and took out her bagged lunch.

Brandy was genuine and generous, she didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Frieda strolled back through the town, taking everything in anew with the sunrise. Something seemed different about the diner. Was that...an ad for a so-called "Pleasure Den"?

Was that there last night? she wondered. Regardless, as she approached the diner, the distinct aroma of dark, gut-rotting coffee wafted into her nostrils. She almost had heartburn just smelling it.

Brand's voice could be heard, mid-rant, as Frieda entered to retrieve her. "...you freely advertise drugs and other nasty things right there for everyone to see? That’s just wrong, you need to take that off of Ace’s diner…RIGHT NOW!!! It’s disgusting.”

Frieda turned to see who Brandy was talking to, and was not surprised it was the creep Steve. It seemed appropriate the greasiest looking guy in town ran the brothel and drug den. "Brandy, calm down a second," Frieda said gently, touching her friend on the arm. "What's going on? What's this about?"

Frieda listened to the explanation quietly, then nodded. "Well, Brandy, if Ace doesn't care, then there's not much you can do about it. Come on, let's go see Celeste. We can talk about this later, huh?" Frieda gently steered her friend out of the diner and towards the inn.

She lit a cigarette as they walked. "Honestly, if that creep wants to run his nest of disease and drugs, there's nothing any of us can really do about it. What we can do is maybe put him out of business. ...somehow." Frieda blew out some smoke and looked at Brandy, who appeared angry and appalled. "Wh -- no, NO, not like that. I mean, somehow run a counter business. Something like that," she rambled. "I don't have an idea exactly yet..."

They drew up to the double doors of the inn. Frieda tossed her cigarette butt over her shoulder and pulled one open, motioning for Brandy to enter. "After you."

A Life in Salem - A Fallout RP

FRIEDA RICHTER -- Brandy's house, late night

Brandy stretched and yawned, “Ya…yeah, I have food.”

Frieda frowned, immediately feeling a pang of guilt for having woken the younger woman from a deep sleep.

Brandy sat up and scratched her head, “I could use a snack too, I never ate today.” She led Frieda downstairs to the kitchen and opened the fridge, “I loaded up on supplies when Shelby and I went to the sanctuary.” She opened up two different cupboards to show Frieda more options, “I don’t have a single cap to my name, but I have food,” she giggled. “Look at these Frieda,” she popped the top off a plastic container, “Fresh eggs, have you have had them?”

Frieda blinked. "I...aheh. No. I haven't had them." She didn't want to say, exactly, that she had no interest in trying an egg from a wasteland chicken, but she knew she had to at least try and be..."open minded."

Brandy opened up a drawer and pulled out a box of Fancy Lads, “I love these things, you want some?” She opened up a package and wandered into the living room.

Frieda gingerly picked up the snack cake. She was familiar with them, but her deeply ingrained training taught her that sugar shouldn't be the first thing she reached for when she was hungry the way she was. She took a deep breath, pushing thos efeelings down, and followed Brandy to the living room.

The younger woman was looking over her bookshelf full of books, eventually selecting one. She pulled out an old book and smiled, she held it up for Frieda to see, “This book has some good ideas for me to follow to make Ace happy.” She blushed and whispered, “Naughty ideas.”

Frieda blushed harder than she wanted. "Y-you...don't say..."

Brandy flipped through a couple of pages, “Like this here, wearing special outfits and stuff.” She let out a big yawn, “I’m going to go back to bed, just help yourself to whatever you want Frieda, I have more than enough for both of us.” As she got halfway up the stairs she stopped and turned around, “I hope the rooster doesn’t bother you, I’ll get him to quiet down after he wakes me up, otherwise he’ll keep being loud.”

Frieda finished her snack cake and found herself wanting more. She already owed Brandy for the smokes, and the room, what would another cake do? She plucked another one from the package and went out back to have a cigarette at the same time. She stared up at the stars, feeling content about her current situation, though sad for her lost brother.

MORNING

Frieda woke late, much later than she had been conditioned. She opened her eyes slowly, hearing foreign sounds like water breaking upon the shore, and a breeze. Her mouth had a weird taste in it, probably from all the sugar she had eaten the night before coupled with not having brushed her teeth before going to sleep.

"And the smokes," she heard in her brother's voice.

Frieda pushed the thought aside and rolled herself off the bed, rubbing her eyes with her fists as if she were a child. There was a scent in the air. Hot grease, and something else. A smokey smell?

She stood up and stretched, listening to the different joints in her body pop and snap in response. Frieda tied her long hair back into a ponytail. She made her way down the stairs and found Brandy at the kitchen table with an ancient newspaper in her hand, picking at a plate of eggs, meat, and potato. "Morning," she greeted the younger woman. Frieda spotted the other plate sitting neatly on the table. She glanced between the plate and Brandy. "That's for me...?"

Frieda felt a combination of awe and disgust. She looked at Brandy, who was gazing at her expectantly, and knew she had to ignore her inhibitions and just take a bite. She picked up the fork, took a little bit of potato, egg, and "meat" and put it all into her mouth at once.

The flavour and texture was good, even appealing. She raised an eyebrow and tried desperately to forget it all had come from the wasteland. Deep down she knew she was a surface dweller, now, and destined to become one of the mutants she had been conditioned to hate. She chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. Then, another. Then, another.

"I don't know how to make all of this up to you," Frieda began. "I promise you that I'll owe you one. Or ten."

She pushed the empty plate away from her and looked out the window. It appeared to be dawning into a beautiful looking day. "I think I'm going to talk to Barney, see about being paid for this 'militia' he's starting up. Otherwise," she tapped on the table twice with both hands, "I'm going to need to find myself a job. Know anyone who could use a gal that can hit what she's aiming at?"