Chapter Four: Liminal Space

If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door- Anonymous.

"Rexie!" The King's eyes brighten when Lola and her group walk through the doorway. Rex yips, running over to the King. The King coos and pets him, rubbing his ears. He looks over at Lola, his gaze remining her of a spoon scooping out mutfruit.

"Them NCR boys have been looking for you," The King says, feigning nonchalance. But there is a tense sort of anger underneath his muscles.

"They came here?" she asks. He nods, his mouth a thin, tight line. She sighs. "I'm sorry. Nothing got messed up, did it?"

"No, it was just annoying," he says, rolling his shoulders. "Know why they were looking for you?"

"They sent a letter," she says. "I've got some notion." He stares at her again, with that ant-in-a-magnifying-glass focus, and says,

"Maybe you oughta take Rexie with you. He's happier than he's been in a while, and will offer good protection. I don't trust them NCR boys as far as I can throw them." Lola casts a sidelong glance at Boone. Other than a clenched jaw, she can't tell that the King's words affected him.

"I'll come too," says Cass. "You always need backup with those bureaucratic shitheads." Lola nods.

"Thank you," she says.

"Be careful of that Ambassador Crocker," The King says. "He's the devil in disguise."

Lola, Cass and Boone walk down the Strip, leaving the rest of the group at the Lucky 38. They walk past the Lucky 38 and the casinos with drunken privates carousing near the doors. Lola reflects on what she knows about the NCR. It isn't much; she knows they're a country out west, and she knows their symbol is the two headed bear. But there is this nagging feeling that she should know more.

"Cass?" she asks. Cass looks over at her, brim of her hat covering her eyes. "What's the NCR like?" Cass whistles lowly.

"Oh boy," she says. "That's a hell of a question. They're family, but let me tell you what family means. You ever had a brother?" Lola doesn't remember if she had a brother but sometimes in dreams she thinks she might. "Some dumbass younger brother, say, who knocked up the pastor's daughter, can't hold a job, and his home-away is a jail cell? That's NCR. Their compass is spinning, all the time."

"What do you mean by that?" Boone pipes up from behind them. Cass rolls her eyes at Lola, and says,

"What I mean is that they try to put their stake in everything they see."

"The Mojave is NCR land, for the most part. We tamed it, now we're settling it. Lot of people complain about it, but they forget what it was like before we showed up."

The Mojave belongs to herself, Lola thinks.

"We're stretched thin, Boone. Nobody's dick is that big, not even Long Dick Johnson," Cass says.

"Won't argue that," he says. "But Coming east was about securing the land, so people could live without fear."

"Wouldn't have pegged you for an idealist, Boone," Cass says teasingly. A small smile cracks along Boone's lips.

"It's not always that simple. But I think the cause is still right."

They stop in front of the embassy. Lola takes a deep breath, and walks inside, her companions close behind. The embassy bustles with activity; people move in and out, and one person is frantically filing papers. The building is obviously been repurposed; Lola can see the cracks underneath the makeshift wallpaper.

"Hey! Where's Amassador Crocker?" Cass asks. One tired looking clerk looks up.

"No entry without an appointment," she says dully.

"I'm the Courier," Lola offers. She immediately perks up, and says,

"Oh! He's in the back, on the left." The three of them walk down a cramped hallway to Ambassador Crocker's office. The door is open, and Lola pokes her head in.

It's well furnished, with an old and tattered red rug on the floor. Books and files line the shelves, some of them so well stocked that they almost fall off. A man sitting at a desk in the back perks up and, when he sees her, he smiles.

"Ms. Haze," he says, standing up. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"Ambassador," she greets cordially. "What is it you know-need from me?" He laughs, a full and jovial sound echoing about the room.

"Straight to the point," he says. "Something admirable about that." He catches side of Cass and Boone. "Ms. Cassidy. Soldier." Boone salutes and Cass gives a lackadaisical wave. He turns his attention back to Lola, eyes glittering with a sharpness that no doubt helped make him an Ambassador.

"To the northeast is a settlement, the locals here call them "Boomers." Lola tempers her reaction: House had asked her to visit the same tribe. Whatever it is they have must be valuable for the NCR to want it too. "I'd like you to get in contact with them, and then do whatever it takes to convince them to help us."

"I see," she says.

"Though, I'm sad to say, Boomers are hostile to any and all outsiders. Your job as a courier will be helpful," he says. "Someone of your skill and reputation would have a better chance of reaching them than anyone else I have available. Will you do this for me?" Lola looks at Boone. His face is impassive but he gives a small, inperceptable nod. She nods in return and says,

"No promises, but I'll do my best." Crocker smiles, all teeth, and says,

"Wonderful."

Cass drags Lola to Gomarrah once their business at the embassy is concluded.

"'Celebratory drinks,' she said," Lola mutters into her whiskey. She hasn't really touched it, not willing to risk mixing it with the Mentats Arcade prescribed to her. She isn't sure if the damn things are working; talking still seems as hard as ever, but she admits her thought process has gotten a little sharper. It's part of how she notices Cass chatting up some of the prostitutes, and how one of them makes her way over to Lola.

"Heya sugar," she says kindly. Lola, in a panic, blurts out,

"Let me buy you a drink." She laughs, sitting down next to her.

"Okay, sugar, but make it a quick one," she says. Lola looks over at Boone, who is gently turning down another prostitute Cass sent over to him. His gaze meets Lola's and he gives her a knowing look. Cass is at it again, that look says, and Lola smiles.

"Like something you see?" the prostitute asks, bringing Lola back to the present.

"You're very pretty," Lola tells her. "Let's just have a drink, yeah? I'll part-pay you for your time." The prostitute smiles, and says,

"Thank you. That's awful thoughtful of you. I'm Joanna."

"Lola." The bartender sets a glass of whiskey in front of Joanna with raised eyebrows, and Lola bites the bullet, taking a large gulp of her drink. The whiskey burns as it goes down, and Lola has to fight not to cough and sputter.

"Say, you're that courier, right?" Joanna asks. "The one out of Goodsprings?" Lola winces, taking another swig.

"Yeah," she breaths. "That's me." Joanna leans in close to Lola, her lips to Lola's ear, and asks,

"Can you deliver a message for me?" Lola gulps, nodding. "You'll have to follow me, okay?" Lola sets her drink and a small pile of caps down on the bar. Joanna takes her by the hand and begins to lead her outside of the bar. Cass whoops and Lola hisses a 'shut up' at her. Joanna leads her through a surprisingly green garden, up a rusty set of metal stairs, to a private room on the second floor. Once she shuts the door behind her, she sighs, and drops the coquettish demeanor. She smiles shakily at Lola, and goes to a desk pushed up in a dark corner of a room.

"Here," she says, handing Lola a letter. "There's a man named Carlitos staying at Vault 21. Please deliver that to him and, if you can, make sure he doesn't come back here."

"Why not?" Lola asks.

"Because I'm stuck working for the Omertas until I die," Joanna says bitterly. Lola looks around the sparse surroundings, from the metal desk to the bed in the center. She counts the moth eaten patches on the blankets, and hopes she won't regret this.

"Maybe you don't have to," she says, half a plan already forming in her mind.

A little something to help me break through some writer's block.