enclaveengineer-blog

[enclaveengineer-blog]

Jones considers this. “Yeah, well -- ”

...She really would rather not shoot the dog. “I’m also looking for something,” she says finally; unable to just let it go, she adds, “it’s probably a little more complicated than whatever you’re trying to scavenge, but -- I don’t need -- whatever no doubt simplistic thing you want.”

enclaveengineer:

Well – great. She definitely has a dog. Which is too bad, because Jones would rather not shoot a dog, but she totally will, just watch her!

“You have to actually be living somewhere to have squatter’s rights,” Jones points out in the tone of voice you’d use for an elementary school kid, rolling her eyes. “That’s why it’s called squatter’s rights and not ‘I happened to be standing here 30 seconds earlier than you were’ rights, otherwise walking into a bar would be the same thing as owning a majority share, which it obviously isn’t – ”

Tess’ brow furrows. What’s this correcting her shit all about? Once weapons get drawn who fucking cares? Tess lets her bat drop another fraction, mirroring the other woman’s eye roll.

“Whatever!” She blows the hair out of her face peevishly. “But I was here first!” She eyes the other woman’s gun. Yell all she likes, she’s at a disadvantage here as far as range goes, and trying to dodge a bullet is always a gamble she’d rather avoid if she can. Still, backing down isn’t something she’s ever been very good at.

“Look, I don’t fuckin’ care why you’re here, s’ long as ya don’t try n’ shoot me I won’t fuck with ya, alright? But I got shit I’m lookin’ to find, n’ I’m gonna find it!”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

better-run-rabbit-run:

“I dunno! Fuck! Ya just like findin’ outta th’ way places t’ bust your ass?”

Shit, this chick’s got a gun. Figures. Tess lowers the bat slowly, with a slight wince as it hits the cut on her hand wrong, and crouches in case she’s gotta move quickly and dodge a bullet. Goddamnit, she didn’t want to get shot today. This was supposed to be easy.

She can hear Beans again, whining  and a scrabbling sound that suggests he might be about to try clambering in the window after her. Goddamnit, she really doesn’t want her dog to get shot today.

“Hey, buddy, shut th’ fuck up.” Tess turns her face towards the window, but doesn’t take her eyes off the other woman and her gun. “M’ fine. Just sit tight, alright?”

There’s another pleading whine, but it sounds like Beans is settling, at least. Tess whips her head back around to give the stranger the full attention of her glare. What did she just say?!

“Wasted? Eat shit, you don’t know me!” Tess tilts her chin up defiantly, chancing a step forward, bat gripped in both hands.”I’ll go wherever th’ fuck I want cuz I was here first! Squatter’s fuckin’ rights!”

Well -- great. She definitely has a dog. Which is too bad, because Jones would rather not shoot a dog, but she totally will, just watch her!

“You have to actually be living somewhere to have squatter’s rights,” Jones points out in the tone of voice you’d use for an elementary school kid, rolling her eyes. “That’s why it’s called squatter’s rights and not ‘I happened to be standing here 30 seconds earlier than you were’ rights, otherwise walking into a bar would be the same thing as owning a majority share, which it obviously isn’t -- ”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

better-run-rabbit-run:

There’s a voice, followed by a crash, and Tess nearly jumps out of her skin. She tries to whirl around, but since she’s down on her heels all she really manages to do is spin herself onto her own butt. 

“Shit- !”

Outside the window Beans barks once, a low “boof?” of concern. Tess has got him well trained enough he won’t kick up a ruckus, not yet anyway, but clearly he can hear the commotion from inside. Why’d she put her bat down?! Now she’s kicked it away, and she’s got to scramble for it and try to get herself back on her feet at the same time.

“Fuck you! What’re you doin’ here?!” Tess hollers in retort to the unfamiliar voice. She’s up, finally, and lifts the bat over her head like she’s prepared to use it. “Finders keepers bitch I was here first!”

Jones’s hand closes around the butt of her gun; she yanks it out, pointing it at the stranger as she scrabbles backwards to get her back against the wall. “Why does it look like I’m here?” Jones snaps, eyes darting between the stranger, the open window behind her, and the (still closed) door to the laboratory. “I was just looking for the bathroom, obviously.” 

Is there someone else here? It sounds like the stranger might have a dog?? Stupid, stupid, she should have hired someone to come with her! 

She snorts, looking the stranger up and down. “What I came for would be wasted on you, so why don’t you just -- go over there,” she jerks her chin in the opposite direction of the laboratory, “and get whatever odds and ends you came for, and leave me alone?!”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

better-run-rabbit-run:

“Motherfucker…”

Tess yanks her hand back from the windowpane, doing a quick little hop-step to keep her balance as she alights inside the wood and glass structure. She sucks air in through her teeth and winces; sure enough, there’s a nasty crimson-oozing gash across her palm. Damnit, she should have made sure there weren’t any shards of glass left sticking out after she’d busted through that pane with her bat. Now she’s got this to deal with. With a sigh of annoyance, she glances out through the hole she’d come in by to where her dog sits, anxiously watching her. Beans wags his tail and whines when she looks his way, and Tess frowns.

“…better stay out there, buddy. Gonna getchur paws all cut up.” 

Beans whines again, not liking when she goes where he can’t follow, but he hunkers down obediently, chin on his paws. Tess drops her bat and crouches down to dig through her bag one-handed, looking for something to doctor herself up with. Half a bottle of water splashed on her palm takes care of most of the blood, and she even finds a strip of old t-shirt that she manages to wrap around her hand and tie snugly with her teeth. Experimentally, she flexes her fingers, wincing at the sting. Well, it’s not the worst injury ever, but it’ll definitely make things annoying. Fuck, finding what she’s here for is gonna suck now.

Excitement makes Jones careless; she doesn’t take the time to check the greenhouse until she’s halfway through one of the windows, at which point she looks up and across the structure at the woman crouched on the floor by a broken window. 

“Oh!” Jones says, startled; she tries to go two directions at once, both into the building and out of it, and ends up catching her foot on the sill and tumbling to the ground in a surprised heap. 

She scrambles to her feet, scrabbling in her bag for her gun. Stupid, stupid, who even does that? “Who the fuck are you?” she snaps. “What are you doing here?”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

@better-run-rabbit-run

It took a while but Jones has finally, finally arrived.

Ginger is back at the shop for some much needed rest, her rear chassis dismantled and soaking in a cleaning solution while she naps, and Duiker is off with his ridiculous clown gang, so Jones is on her own. She can take care of herself -- at least, within reason -- but she'd rather not have to, so she's spent the last few hours picking her way carefully through the ruins, determined to not invite trouble before she's even gotten to her prize.

Now, though, the greenhouse is in sight. Two of the windows have been broken in, but the damage doesn't look too bad -- and more importantly, the small lab connected looks like it hasn't been breached. Jones heads straight for it, excitement quickening her pace.

[enclaveengineer-blog]

Jones rolls his eyes at Roger all the way there tbh because you melodramatic baby, stop trying to pretend you’re soooOOoooOOOoo above it all

and then actually walks in and stops dead in horror tbh 

(“the resemblance is uncanny,” she says after a moment, but uh. Wow, Simon. wow. WOW.)

[[ In Boston the Saint stays in part of the MFA – not all of it; he hasn’t reclaimed the whole thing and he’s not there full-time anyway, so some wings are inhabited by feral ghouls and the like – but when he’s there he uses the Catalonian Chapel as his visiting chamber. A Halo greets the invited guests and leads them through the halls and displays and through a narrow archway into THIS PLACE, where Simon sits on a literal throne beneath Manspreading Peace Jesus ]]

[enclaveengineer-blog]

isthataharpooninyourpocket:

“How is ever it’s too early to be drunk!” Sandy exclaims indignantly. Then he adds, less indignantly and more amused: “And I hardly got any drunk at all yet! Only just, I don’t got my land legs. And the weather I don’t know, because of your hair it kept moving.”

“Yes, that tends to happen, since it’s hair.” 

She... probably shouldn’t be rude to him, considering she was already rude to him, so she tries to arrange her face into a pleasant expression. “I mean -- where are you from? ...And when did you start drinking?” she adds, taking a tiny little half step away -- look, if he’s seasick or landsick or whatever and he’s been drinking, is he going to puke on her? 

[enclaveengineer-blog]

“Oh.” She is instantly and overwhelmingly self-conscious and goes to pat her hair down, even though she really shouldn’t be -- for one thing, she doesn’t look like the costume department of The Pirates of Penzance threw up on her, and for another, she can actually stand up straight, which -- 

“It’s a little early to be drunk, isn’t it?” she says without thinking, and then, rather horrified with herself, “I mean, is there -- what’s the weather?” 

why are you staring at me?

“Oh, shit.” He’s got the good grace to be embarrassed. “Only just, you got a piece of hair that it sticks up right now in the wind, and I’m trying to see, how does the wind blow, and think what’s the weather tonight, so I can plan what do I want to do, you know.” That and also she’s seventeen feet tall, but that’s impolite

[enclaveengineer-blog]

"Plenty of people say that, but there’s nothing beautiful about dying old, either,” comes the unreasonably snappish response. “Pretty sure there’s nothing beautiful about dying at all.” 

(In her defense, Jones is sheet-white and trembling and bleeding profusely from the arm and is clearly not exactly at her best, but -- still.)

“You were very lucky this time. But please try to be more careful. There’s nothing beautiful about dying young.”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

fancycoatpossum replied to your post: // tapdances awkwardly

// like a Philip

[enclaveengineer-blog]

// tapdances awkwardly

[enclaveengineer-blog]

Want to know why Jones knows what’s in those boxes? Because she went over and checked, obviously. 

She sniffs the air, frowning. “Hello? You are the doctor, right? ...Is it safe to be in here while you’re doing that? I hope you have proper ventilation.”

She takes a look around the clinic. Is it likely this place has an HVAC system? “Or a window open, at least,” she adds.

[ A grey tabby cat sits right outside the clinic. He washes his spotless white paws, looking up only to cast Jones a disdainful look. There are actually several cats lurking outside the clinic. Under the eaves, in a sunny spot on the sidewalk, and so on. ]

[ Spring cleaning continues! The good doctor might find himself cleaning until the end of spring. There are plastic cartons stacked up the ceiling, all against the far wall. Many boxes are empty, most are half full of medical supplies, misc., and some of them stuffed to the brim with … well, it appears to be a lifetime’s supply of iodine bottles. ]

[ The man himself is a man on a mission. What sort of mission, you might be asking? Why, to plaster a hole in the ceiling of his storage closet. He’s currently standing on the tippy-top of a stepladder,  at the stage where the hole has been plugged up, a hole that was not made by a book flung in a fit of anger, a hole that came into being through mysterious circumstances, a hole that he is brushing sealant over. The sealant has a strong smell, rather like varnish. ]

[ He yells, not even muffled by his surgical mask, ]

“Yes, I’ll be with you in a moment! Please have a seat.”

[enclaveengineer-blog]

Jones’s finger was already on the trigger, and the combination of bad trigger discipline and the instinctive tensed-up flinch means she doesn’t even actually get to think about whether or not it’s a good idea to take the shot -- it’s happening without any real conscious input from her. 

Through sheer stupid luck, she drills a neat hole directly between his eyebrows; he pulls his own trigger on the way down, and Jones screams as the bullet passes her close enough she swears she can feel it. 

And then it’s silent -- or at least, she thinks it’s silent; her ears are ringing pretty badly. “Is it -- are you okay?” she asks Shy, her voice a little squeaky. She turns the man over with one foot and groans -- she recognizes that symbol, and it’s nothing good. 

“...Have you heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?” she asks.

Pressing up against the door frame, Shy hears…wind? Tilting her head, she glances back at Jones. “It sounded like…wind? I don’t really know, Doc.” Shy looks the door over again, and reaches towards the latch. “Anything’s on the other side of the door, Doc? Start running.” 

Pulling hard on the door, it doesn’t move. The latch is unlocked but…huh. Shy turns to Jones, looking pretty perplexed. “It’s stuck; the latch is undone but there’s somethi-” 

The sentence is cut short as the door swings open, catching Shy in the back hard. Falling away from the door, she lands at Jones’ feet, groaning softly. “Wha-” In the doorway is the answer to that question - the back-lit silhouette of a fairly tall man, with a fairly intimidating rifle. 

Stepping into the dark cavern, the man brings the gun to his shoulder, alternating his aim quickly between Jones and Shy. In a gruff, agitated voice he yells out, aggressively stepping towards the both of them. “Put the fucking gun down, or you both die! Put it down!” 

[enclaveengineer-blog]

That puts her on the defensive again. “I was up here looking for scrap,” she snaps. “I don’t have any reason to hide ‘what I was doing’. You on the other hand -- I think it’s perfectly reasonable to want to know what a legionary is doing this far outside the Fort.”

He unslung his bow off his shoulder and unsheathed the machete he was carrying by his side, handing both of them over with a minor hesitance. While he was fairly confident he could hold his own should she decide to attack him, and he knew this sort of a request was the smart thing for anyone to ask, he didn’t like being unarmed. 

“I was going to work under the impression that if I didn’t ask what you were doing, you wouldn’t ask for me. I don’t think it’s very important, other than it’s the reason we both ended up here.” 

[enclaveengineer-blog]

// ...will Jones ever make it through an entire non-conversational thread in which her arm actually stays on and works properly the whole time? 

[enclaveengineer-blog]

@doc-bonesaw

Frankly, Jones hates going out without an arm on. But, one does as needs must, which in this particular case, means neatly pinning up the sleeve of the flannel shirt she buttons one-handed over a camisole, awkwardly shrugging into a coat, slinging a bag across her body with some tools she doubts the doctor will have, and heading for the clinic. 

Even just the effort of walking sends prickles of pain and numbness up her shoulder and across her back; she really, really let this go entirely too long. It's embarrassing, frankly -- she's had plenty of time to actually fix this properly, but biology is sticky and messy and unpleasant, and she can't maintain the mount by herself, and she was busy, and... 

A particularly unpleasant jolt makes her grit her teeth. The long and short of it is, she was careless, and now she's paying for it. Good job, P, this isn't proof of your incompetence or anything, she berates herself. 

The waiting room is empty when she arrives. There isn't a bell or a receptionist or anything, so she stands awkwardly in the doorway, gripping the strap of her bag with her hand, listening for any signs of life. "Hello?" she calls. "I -- is there a doctor here?"

[enclaveengineer-blog]

// the only hostess gifts Jones brings anymore are guns 

Duiker’s raider days may be long over (...sort of), but they’re still turning up. she stopped the laundry a few days ago because there was banging noise from the machine because a gun got in there. where are they coming from??? why is this happening?!???