vulpixinculta: (Default)
Veronica meets Nox
~~

A strange newcomer staggers into the 188, favoring their left leg and leaving a ruddy boot smear behind each step. Veronica can’t help but turn her head to watch as he passes by, pushing the edge of her hood aside for a better view.

The stranger falls into a stool at the bar and croaks out a request for water, his voice surprisingly soft considering his size. He slides the hunting rifle from his shoulder and lays it across the bar in front of him, stopping Samuel’s protest with a preemptive glare and snapping up the offered bottle of water.

Curiosity piqued, Veronica inches closer to the bar, takes up the stool on the corner just perpendicular to the interesting stranger. Although, she’s not yet sure what exactly she finds so interesting, besides the wound and the flashy checkered suit, the grey pants of which are stained with blood and dust.

Then again, the bar for interesting is set pretty damn low around here. The light familial bickering of Michelle and Samuel and the occasional rumors about the NCR-Legion conflict are pretty much the only entertainment she has, besides trying to strike up conversation with passing caravaneers. Usually they just brush her off.

“No offense, but you look like you’ve traveled a long way down some hard roads,” she tries to joke with the Stranger, nodding towards the injured leg propped up on the bar of the stool. “Where’re you coming from?”

The stranger looks up, face dead for a moment before drawing up a thin, polite smile. “Vegas, actually.”

“Huh, guess the suit should’ve given it away. Doesn’t look like you had a very good time at the tables, though.”

“Oh, it was not all terrible,” the stranger chuckles, barely more than a puff of air. “I’m a fan of games where the stakes are high.”

“Sounds like you’ve got the gambling bug,” Veronica eyes the rifle laid out on the bar. Meticulously maintained, but clearly old. The action seems to have been replaced, the wood stock re-varnished over some obvious dents.