a-man-of-distinction-blog

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Randy is going to write a strongly worded letter to the Followers at Old Mormon Fort about changing their name because that is FALSE ADVERTISEMENT. 

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waxandwan:

“But chaos is what makes it so fun! C`mon, dont be a stick in the mud about it.”

Kareena ceased munching on her claw when he mentioned Utah. “Yer from New Canaan! My boy`s from there too, Destiny said it was a shit hole, is that true?” She kicked her dangling legs in surprise, what a small world! Destiny never explained why New Canaan was shitty, finally she could stop trying to pry details from him.  

She slid off the counter. “No, your a guest, that`ll be rude if you gave me all this meat and made ya cook it.” She waddled back to the stove and flipped the meat over. “Just becuz I`m expecting dont mean I lay around and let others take care of me.”

Randy just snorts and dismisses the idea with a playful wave of the hand. He won’t explain his aversion to vices of the Strip. Most Wastelanders don’t understand his beliefs, and he’s not in the right space to explain them.

“He is?” Randy blinks, wondering if him and Destiny knew each other. Perhaps not, if Destiny left the flock at a young age. The thought of meeting him is still exciting. Even if the boy apparently thinks New Canaan was a “shithole.” That pulls an awkward chuckle out of the missionary. 

“Well I think he’s well within his right to think so, if he’s from New Canaan. It's a different sort of place,” He watches as Kareena tinker around the kitchen, “New Canaan is a Mormon community you see, a branch of Christianity. That is, uh, religion.”

He forgets how many wastelanders don’t even know about that. 

“We’re brought up under a strict rule. Like, uh, I’ve never been allowed alcohol or tobacco. It’s really not for everyone. It’s harsh.” And sometimes, just incredibly disappointing. “I’m grateful for the things New Canaan gave me, but I left for a reason.”

Without a task to do around the kitchen, Randy suddenly feels a tad awkward himself.

“Sooooo expecting, huh? That’s exciting! Are you and Rufus hoping for a boy or a girl?”

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klssntell:

No, Im afraid not, I only been living here for a short time. 

*Nelly know so much about Mormons, her father very often spoke about them and their lifestyle. It wasnt very different from their own. The fort isnt what she called a place for holy worship, unless the tents counted as pews.*

If you’re not a doctor then you must be sick… I hate to disappoint you, but The Fort isnt a sanctuary for the lord. *She did her best to break it to him lightly.* Its owned by Followers, and I doubt a fraction of the people there even know who Jesus Christ is. Trust me, once I read to a lonely bed ridden drunkard, which resulted with him chasing me out the Fort.

.... It isn’t? *Randy stares dumb founded, listening intently as this helpful stranger goes on about the Fort. His astonishment takes a quick turn toward the upset and appalled* Then why on earth are they calling it such a thing?! They can’t-they can’t just do that! 

*He throws his hands up* 

You can’t just take somebody’s title and slap it on something else for... for CRAP AND LAUGHTER!

*He takes a short pause, before deflating significantly*

Excuse my language. That’s just terribly disappointing news. As I’m sure you realize, faith is a scarse resource in the Wasteland *He shakes his head forelornly at the thought, but pushes it away. No sense of worrying about it now, it’s done* My name is Randy by the way. 

You uh, said you read to a drunkard at the fort? You mean scripture?

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The Goths got him…rip

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You could? Well, I’d be awfully grateful if you wouldn’t mind. I, uh, have a few caps to spare for the trouble.

*Randy quirks a brow, wondering what about him makes him seem like a doctor. And then he remembers, right, that merchant said some Followers were at the fort. That makes sense. New Canaanites always welcomed the Followers*

Oh no no, but I’m flattered you think so! But I’m just a regular Mormon. Darted over here when somebody told me there was a fort of them here in Freeside. 

Do you know how long they’ve been here?

Oh, uh, hello! Ma'am? *Randy attempts to wave the stranger down, while attempting to appear as if he has no intentions on robbing her. Because he doesn't. But, you know, that's still a THING people tend to do. Especially in Freeside* Not here for any trouble ma'am, just wondering if you can direct me to the Mormon's fort?

Hmm?

*Was he talking to her? Nelly spins around on her heels, yes he is! It must be important*

Oh, the Fort, is just around the corner I can take you there! *She gives him a warm smile.* You must be a doctor?

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deadpansharker:

*Bless your heart, kind customer, Mordecai just wants your caps, not to be particularly friendly. The Ghoul’ll be humoring you, though.* 

Yeah, I like going above expectations.  *Mord opens a bottle of Sunset Sasparilla and places it on the bar, willfully avoiding the customer’s stare. Really, usually peeps only stare if they’re former vaulties or concerned about salubrity or something (that they never would care about if it was a smoothskin cooking their meals instead).  *  It’s twelve caps for the meal, sir. It’ll be ready in a couple minutes… * Mordecai trails off into a mumble as they slap a slab of meat on the repurposed (and clean, thank you) steel drum that serves as an improvised stove and pan with a bit more force than needed, irritated, and opens their mouth to gently–gently–assure the staring customer that no, ghoulification isn’t contagious, the food’s just as irradiated as anywhere else, and— 

Hearing their own name catches Mord off guard, who narrows their eyes.*  Wait, how do you know my– *Mordecai narrows their eyes further as the customer yanks down his handkerchief–holy shit, he’s sure he’s seen him before, but where?*  Uh–shit–wait, I know you– * A vague memory of the old diner in New Canaan’s outskirts, sunlight filtering through the holes in the ruined curtains where the ghoul served– Mordecai snapped their fingers triumphantly.*  Pancakes–Randy! 

*The ghoul lets out a laugh. It sounds vaguely like a bark. Or a cough. Who cares, Mord doesn’t.* 

I–holy sh– *Wait, no, don’t swear!*  Um…Hello! What are you doing out here?

“Oh my gosh, you remember that?”

Randy laughs alongside with the Ghoul, surprised and a little touched to be remembered for such a thing. In his first moments recognizing Mord the diner had been far from his thoughts. It’s a nice memory, a warm and happy one from his youth. Far better than the one he’s currently recollecting, where as a man and deputy he’d dragged this very Ghoul to the jailhouse for one of the most uncomfortable nights of his life. 

--I’m sorry, Mordecai, I’m doing my job! You can’t, they’ll kill you if you attack him! He’ll kill you! I don’t want him here either but there’s nothing we can do--

“I’m... yeah...”

Randy glances briefly toward the desert landscape to blink away the glassiness of his eyes. He’s pleased to have found a familiar face in the wasteland, but their last interaction left so much bitterness in the Canaanite’s mouth. Not because of Mord’s actions, but because of his own. What are the odds they should meet each other now like this? 

Regardless he looks back quickly, and offers the other a cautious but friendly smile. He won’t tarnish a perfectly pleasant greeting with such thoughts. 

“It’s so good to see you Mordecai, really. I haven’t seen another New Canaanite since I left!” Although Mordecai isn’t a Canaanite anymore. And technically neither is he. With makes him ponder how he should explain his presence here. “I decided I needed to take my mission. A few years ago actually. The uh, Joshua Graham thing really stuck with me. And it made me doubt a lot of things. I left not long after you did.”

It’s honest, if not a vague stretch.

"I regret the course of action I took that day. As inappropriately heavy as that subject might be.” 

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onlyresults:

a-man-of-distinction:

onlyresults:

He’s really here. It’s not a dream. That night happened, and he came back. “…Good! Real good! D-do you want see it, or…?” 

“See it?”

The missionary’s brow quirks ever so slightly at the offer. Has she been working on a new project? He wouldn’t be surprised. She’s as ambitious as she is intelligent. He was hoping she’d invite him in anyway. He happily steps inside. 

“Of course! What’s the great Dr. Cosmas working on today?”

Now she feels stupid. She wasn’t working on anything new, she wasn’t even sure what she could possibly show him that he hadn’t already seen. 

“To be perfectly honest, I just wanted you to come inside,” she decided to respond truthfully. “I…missed you, to be perfectly honest. I don’t like it when you’re not here.” 

She sighed and placed her hands on her hips, staring at the poor ghoul strapped to the table. “Yep. Nothing you haven’t seen.” 

“Oh?” Randy lets out a bemused, light-hearted chuckle and smiles broadly. He’s not making fun of her by any means, he’s simply endeared by her means to coax him inside. As he is endeared that she missed him. And that she prefers it when he’s around. It’s not the sort of comment he’s known Cecilia to make on a whim. “Well, I was hoping you’d allow me inside regardless. I missed you quite a bit myself...”

Randy casts a warm glance back at her, still smiling, before breaking it himself with a nervous throat clearing. 

“And I’m sorry I haven’t been around very much since... you came over.” He takes a seat aside from Kenny, giving the ghoul another smile. “Crawford’s just been keeping me so busy over at Dino. It’s really looking like Boone won’t be around for a while. But I’ve been keeping my eye out for suspicious folks on shift... How’ve you been holding up? If I may ask?”

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onlyresults:

He’s really here. It’s not a dream. That night happened, and he came back. “…Good! Real good! D-do you want see it, or…?” 

“See it?”

The missionary’s brow quirks ever so slightly at the offer. Has she been working on a new project? He wouldn’t be surprised. She’s as ambitious as she is intelligent. He was hoping she’d invite him in anyway. He happily steps inside. 

“Of course! What’s the great Dr. Cosmas working on today?”

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waxandwan:

“Yeah, Destiny is my boy and Rufus is his dad. They’re both off going god knows where doing god knows what, so I guess I`ll have all these food to myself.”  Kareena, as always, forgot to mention the nature of her and Rufus` relationship, but who had time to go into details?

“I`m grateful for any help I can get.”  She grabbed two slabs of meat, slapped them onto the pot, and sat it on the warm stove. When they began to simmer she waddles over to a empty counter to sit on, something about this guy didn’t sit well with her. Too clean, who has the energy to be so…prissy? “Wheres home, If you don’t mind me asking? Ya look as if just walked out of a vault.” She leered at him, with her curiosity growing stronger she dug deeper. 

“Like why Novac? Its so quiet, you don’t want to live it up in the Strip?” She asked, innocent as can be while nibbling on her pointy claws.  

“Oh, you think so?” Randy doesn’t mind the comparison, though he's not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment. “I suppose that makes sense, since that’s where home began for me. Well uh, not me personally, but my community. Have you heard of New Canaan? It’s up quite a ways in Utah.” 

Randy pauses a moment and stares at the sharp nail Kareena takes to nibbling. He’s not sure he’s ever seen anyone grow their nails that long. They look like they could stab someone’s eyes out, wowza! Her next question earns her a laugh. 

“Oh gosh even if I could afford the Strip, you’d never see me there! I’ve heard it’s a cesspool of chaos. Though I’m sure the performances must be grand,” he leans against her counter, doing his best to stay out of her way. “I think there’s plenty to be enjoyed in a quiet town. What about you? Also do you, uh, need help with the meat or anything...?”

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"This Diamond Ring" - Gary Lewis & The Playboys (1965)

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Jesus said to Peter, "Come forth, and I will give you eternal glory." But Peter came fifth and won a toaster.

*NERDY LAUGHTER*

Aw that's just too good.

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waxandwan:

Kareena perks up when he mentions food. Wow, and she thought Destiny was going to eat her out of house and home, again.

“We`ll love some, come on in mister, dont be a stranger!”

The house had a simple lay out, a medium sized living room with a small table and a out of commission TV (Kareena found it cute and didnt have the heart to throw it out) with a brahmin skull on top. There was door frame that led to the extremely cramped kitchen, despite its size, Kareena instructed Randy to follow.  

She propped her club on the peeling wallpaper and pointed up to a cabinet above her head. “Could ya help me? I only cook with when Destiny or Rufus is around, and I cant reach a pot big enough for all that meat.”

“Oh, uh, thank you!”

Randy hadn’t anticipated on staying long, but he doesn’t mind the invitation. Aside from Cecilia, and the occasionally suggestive comment (about Cecilia) from Miss Crawford, Randy scarsely talks to anyone in Novac. It’s quite nice to experience a little neighborly hospitality. Even if he essentially just bought it with meat. 

And his cooking skills, evidently. Randy quirks a brow at the smaller woman’s request. He hadn’t expected he’d be helping her either. But it’s not like he’s got anything better to do. He rummages through the cramped cupboard until he finds what he assumes is an appropriate pot. 

“Well I’m no gourmet chef, but I can certainly lend a hand. Had to learn how to fend for myself when I left home.” He puts the pot down on the nearest counter, followed by the bag of gecko meat. “I assume that would be your... family?”

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deadpansnarker:

*A few seconds–make that maybe ten seconds–pass until a ghoul’s  head pops out from behind a tarp curtain.* It is now. * He doesn’t quite recognize the customer, and even with that handkerchief the ghoul’s sure that the man’s not one of the regulars. Not yet, anyway. Mordecai slinks out from their improvised kitchen into the even further improvised attempt at a bar.* Welcome to The Hideous Child, and it sure as hell is the best food post this side of the 93. *It’s probably the only food post  open this side of the Highway 93, at least with today’s weather. Who cares, Mord doesn’t care, not when they tap a piece of cardboard with the day’s menu scrawled on it.* I’ve got a special on the bighorner steak n’ yucca fries today, if you’re interested. The gecko casserole’s pretty popular too. I ran out of cold Nuka’s earlier today, but I’ve got some Sasparillas left, if you want it. *Wait a minute, where did they see this client before…wait, no, nevermind.*

Oh, great!

*Randy offers a friendly smile to the Ghoul, though he realizes it’s concealed behind the handkerchief. He hasn’t come across many much friendliness this time through the Wasteland (though he rarely does). Even if this Ghoul just wants a customer, it’s at least a chance for him to make conversation! And evidently, receive a decent meal to boot*

Bighorner steak? Wowza, I uh, was expecting meat kebabs at best *The missionary attempts to discreetly peak into his money pouch. A cold beverage sounds amazing right now, so the offered Sasparilla is a no-brainer. He also studies the menu. Hmmm... Well he did just sell in some equipment he scavenged. He can treat himself for once* Well I’d love a Sasparilla first, if you please. Parched awfully as you can imagine. And a steak would be heaven sent.

*Randy calculates the number of caps before setting them down in a careful pile on the counter. He smiles back at the Ghoul, finally getting a good, long look at him. There’s something awfully familiar about them. But he doesn’t want to stare too long. He knows most Ghouls don’t take kindly to that, and the last thing he wants to do is piss off the person preparing his food--Wait a second*

... Um?

.... I’m sorry, but... Mordecai? 

*He hesitates for a moment, before yanking the handkerchief down*

Do you... remember me?

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I’m so tired and have more chores and such but just know I love all your characters and I’ll thrilled to play with them in this community. 

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“Why, yes... I am, actually.” Randy’s brows shoot up as he returns Willie’s glance with one of surprise. “I’m sorry, I just haven’t met a lot of folks out here who’re familiar with Canaan. But that’s wonderful. You, uh, probably thought we were a little weird, huh?”

As he takes the offered seat, Randy wonders when she’d made the trip up North, as it sounds like some time has passed since then. Back home, the Followers were considered a blessing, and were always offered for the aid they offered. Randy had even met a few of them as a younger man, though he can’t recall any of them being pleasant Southern blondes. He’s not going to ask if he remembers meeting any bony beanpole teenagers. 

“And no worries about uh, messages.” Randy smiles back from the couch, still lightly tapping at the split cut on his forehead. And then wincing for his efforts “I know when to leave that subject to rest. But I’m a sucker for tea!” 

He watches as she manuvers through her packed home with ease, feeling a little awkward to have taken up her time over such a small thing. 

“So you said you were with the Followers, huh? Least I know I’m in good hands. Might I ask what drew you down that sort of path?” 

“Hmm yes, well.” Willie chuckles softly as she bustles on into the building. “If you were thinkin’ of layin’ one at the door of that big ol’ building with all the fences around it just up the road… well. I’d advise you skip that one.” 

The Powder Gangers were unlikely to appreciate such a gift, and unlikely to allow someone who made it to their door to leave again.

“Oh, I suppose I’ve been here a while…” Once inside, Willie sets the little book down on a shelf and heads on over to the side of the room which serves as a kitchen. She flips on an electric kettle as she passes, and keeps going to a cabinet on the wall. “I can have tea for ya in a few minuets if ya want…”

When her visitor mentions where he’s from, Willie turns to give him a look of sudden understanding.

“Oh! You’re a Canaanite!” She glances towards where she left the book. Wel, that explains a few things. “I been up to Utah, when I was with the Followers. Even been to New Canaan a time or two.”

She gives Randy a soft, apologetic smile.

“Well, it’s a message I’ve heard before, Mr. McMurphy, but I’ll take the gift in the spirit it’s offered. Thank you.” Turning back to the cabinet, she pulls out a towel and a couple small bottles. She gestures towards the couch and various overstuffed armchairs gathered around a low table on the other side of the room. “Go ahead n’ sit wherever you want! Let’s get ya cleaned up.”

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Almost any other morning Randy would have been up just past the crack of dawn, would have already completed his morning routine. But he hadn’t had just any other night, and so his body demands a little more time before his eyes flutter open.

Everything feels so tranquil despite the evidence of the night before. The bottle of wine still sitting on his counter, while the supply satchell he’d stuffed for her still hangs off his chair. And then of course there’s the small blonde doctor whose resting snug against his chest and underneath his arm. 

Randy smiles as he studies her, thinking with bemusement that this is perhaps the most peaceful he’s ever seen her. He likes that. She deserves more of it.

But he’s becoming more aware of the intimacy in their touch, and he grows concerned about that. So he pulls his arm away... But doesn’t really make much else of an effort to pull away. It’s too nice.

“... Hey... Are you awake?”

“'Wedlock’ sounds so dirty…” she mumbles, in part only to herself. “Does your religion have a problem with a man and a woman sharing a bed? Just to sleep? That’s insane.” 

But it doesn’t seem to bother her much. She’ll gladly be the town pariah for this. She joins him eagerly under the covers, immediately relishing how much warmer it is with another person. 

“You know, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been with a man in bed without sex beforehand…” she comments, then recalls as she closes her eyes. “Oh, yes. My father. That was it. He would have gotten a laugh out of you. Liked you very much, I think.” 

The doctors reaches out blindly to pat his face, aiming for the top of his head, but missing slightly. “That’s good, Randy. That’s real good. I knew you were bright, a good assistant.” 

Something doesn’t add up about his scars, but she doesn’t push it. She’s not in the right state of mind to, and though her brows knit for a moment, they soon smooth out, lips parting slightly and the quirking into a soft smile as he tells her that he’s not going anywhere. 

“I hope not…” she murmurs, both teasingly and sincere, sleep coming to her easily after that. 

During the night, in her sleep, she gravitates towards the warmth that touches her inside and out, snuggling up to Randy easily. Even when she begins to stir in the early morning, she doesn’t pull apart, despite being aware of their position. He feels good. A nice, warm hug. No sex involved. Just a little longer, she thinks. Just until he wakes up.