CHAPTER 62

Nothing but Fallout.

Sliding, sliding, sparks flying, metal hissing- something collided with his shoulder, parted upwards, and then he felt weightless again- though, nothing in comparison to what had happened in the computing hall- then there was a big splat, and he was stuck in something wet, and putrid.

Laslar Seduun fell into a ravine that flanked the side of the Charles River, sank up to his knees and elbows in the muddy mess, and slowly pulled himself to sit up, and looked around him with some measure of calming demeanor.

Behind him was a raise of concrete, straight up, and the shadow of the campus' far southern building was visible just above that- and before him, the land slid down, in the form of a slick, puddle-filled hill- and the lapping waves of the Charles River were beyond that and up to the horizon line, with skyscrapers pulling above it in the sky ahead.

Defeated, hurting, with his prized armor battered and broken- the Superintendent snorted wetly, reached up with his gauntlet, and tore off his helmet with a few hisses of couplings being separated- his pale face was matted with sweat, stains of dried blood.

With one eye swelling shut from where Sanford had decked him- Laslar flexed his teeth against each other, and teetered in his kneel to the mud, staring across the Charles canal.

He looked back at the dispulsion chute he had thrown them through- the crank-hatch was lifted right up from where he had slid down and rammed it ajar.

Laslar snorted at that too, glanced into the mud by his flank, and saw Luft sunk face-down in the repulsive browns and tans, unmoving, stilled, maybe even dead. Laslar didn't KNOW if he was dead, but he was laboring under the possible delusion that he wasn't, so, the body was coming with him.

"Get up, Luft." Laslar grumbled, sliding his armored arms into the mud beneath Luft's chest- the Sergeant's suit whined and groaned, and gobs of slime cascaded and slid off to repugnantly plop back into the mess below whilst Laslar lifted him.

Slinging his man's arm over his pauldrons, Laslar Seduun overlooked the Charles River with a moment of silence- he wished Luft was awake, somewhere, as a tiny hope- and that was only because he wanted someone to rant at, because of how angry he was.

Laslar could picture half the High Command leaping at the opportunity to prove his failure.

Such a simple operation. He had technological and numerical superiority, and he was a seasoned veteran...

-But he still lost to a fuckin' kid.

"Necessary losses," Laslar grumbled to himself, using his tongue to forcibly push out one of his canines that had been loosened from one of Sanford's punches. He spit the tooth away, and Luft's helmet slumped over. "-But I'm coming back."

Laslar shifted Luft's arm again, and he started dragging the Sergeant down the hill beside himself, as the two sole surviving Enclave operatives fled the scene of their defeat.

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was an audacious thing that Sanford had planned, it required copious amounts of time, wires, lights he and Hancock had long ago acquired for a purpose that never saw fulfillment- and it needed all of his effort, his WANT of doing it.

Sanford had never driven himself to DO for someone a kind of thing he was now- it was a sort of revelation, and a standing sadness too, that he hadn't met anyone in the wastes throughout the last decade that he had... 'Striven', for. It was a good word, he thought.

He strove to see her happy.

He strived for her to smile.

Striving. Strive.

-His father had striven for him to be happy, his mother had striven for him to be happy- he had striven for them to be happy, and although Hancock would never admit it- he believed the robot also strove for him to be happy, and the feeling was mutually likewise.

There was always striving, within his life, even when it crashed into a flaming heap and became what it was now, which, honestly, wasn't so fiery and kamakazi-ish' anymore- but it was there, the striving, the striving for good things for himself, for Hancock, the acquaintances he'd made...

But this was different.

It was for HER, specifically.

It wasn't just for his own fun, or for feeling only remorse and the materialistic need to repay for what he had said to her in the Museum of Science- Sanford was doing this for those reasons in addition, sure, but tonight he strove to see his friend smile.

With that on his mind, he had dug through all the salvage that he and Hancock had gathered in the garage of the Gas Station- he particularly focused on recreational stuff, things he had taken because he liked them, not because they were a resource.

Sanford eventually had a wrapped coil of old Christmas lights he had found a while back- yellow ones, and they still worked- they were one of those models that you wrapped around stuff, plugged in, and there was a wheel switch on the wire that would turn the bulbs on.

Sanford took that, and he got out an old H&H Staple Gun that Hancock had found in a truck when they were walking down a highway far south- probably...

-Sanford turned the tool in his hand, flexing his other hand's fingers on the lights over his shoulder-

...-Probably three years ago? Maybe four? Who cared.

In addition to that, Sanford went digging in some of the old books he and Han' had picked up over the years- and disappointingly, there weren't as many of those as say items of scrap, or monetary value. But Sanford looked around in all the chests and boxes in the garage- making a thorough mess that he would have to clean up later.

He tugged out a tiny, blue, hard-cover booklet from underneath a few hubcaps in one of the boxes- and, bringing the thing closer to flip it open, and examine it's contents- Sanford saw that it was a tour guide, and it had translations in it, for basic German, Italian, Spanish and...

...and French.

There was a whole section in this thing, for France.

Sanford flipped through the pages, and he shook his head, smiling.

Why hadn't he found this earlier?

-Straying from his original goal, Sanford dug back into the box again and came up with another book that apparently had been stowed in here without his knowledge- it was dusty, soft cover- putting down the European Tour Guide booklet, he dusted this new piece off in his hands.

Reading the cover with some excitement- this eagerness was thoroughly dashed when he saw, in bright white letters-

The Adventures, of Captain Underpants!

-..."-God damn you, Hancock."

-He underhand tossed it back into the box.

Sanford had a whole project planned out- a big strip of cardboard from a refrigerator box, a wood slope glued to the other side- he took all of his stuff and went out underneath the pump-shade roof outside.

With this idea in mind- he started weaving the lights and the wires- he routed them to the generator outside, and then he sat in the center of the court beneath the pump-shade of the station, and he started setting up a Frankenstein-like creation of electronic beauty.

On the slab of cardboard, the wires and lights were supported against it with staples from the H&H Staple Gun - it took some deep memory digging - but soon, as he sat in the dying light of the evening, the wires formed a roughly triangular shape on the cardboard.

psk-KK

psk-KK

psk-KK

-The staple gun clacked every time he used it, and he folded the wires and held them with his bare hands, got it to look as accurate to what he was intending to mimic as possible.

He knelt over the boarding, face scrunched in determination- in thought to how it would look when it was done, what her reaction would be. He was excited, he hoped she was too.

"...Just two more..." psk-KK psk-KK- "-Done! Let's see this baby..."

Sanford wrapped his hands underneath the two flanks of the board- he huffed, stood it upright, and leveled the wood slope at its rear to stand it straight without his needing of holding it.

He slowly took his hands off the material, stepped back, and nodded at the dark shape with satisfaction- a big rectangle of crisscrossing Christmas lights and wires organized into a certain shape, that, if Nyx WAS as into this as she seemed- she would undoubtedly recognize it.

Sanford scratched his head, put the staple gun down on the ground, and found the little flick-switch for the lights draped on the pavement below him. He took it up, rolled the switch with his thumb-

BZ bzzzz...

-And as his entire front torso and face became highlighted a faint yellow, he marveled at the creation that had taken him all afternoon, folded his arms, and nodded at himself- impressed.

"She'll love it."

-He switched it off, and dragged the line with him in one hand and his lantern in the other- to the edge of the Gas Station's front door- he draped the switch on the ground there, and then he went inside, put the lantern on the window ledge, and he waited by the two counters.

Rubbing his hands together, he locked his eyes to the slightly darker shape of the cardboard slab out there- his idea, his creation- the thing that he hoped would give her a positive experience, would make her smile.

Had he done something like this with her yet? Why hadn't he already?

-Didn't matter, didn't matter.

Sanford was practically bouncing on his heels. He really hoped she would love it. He loved it, at least.

He didn't have to wait long for Nyx to stalk in from outside- and just as he planned on, she went right for the doorframe, didn't even glance out at the sealed-in expanse of the station ahead of her- she ducked, compressed her arms, and entered the station lobby without a word.

Hard to believe that awhile ago, he would've been praying for his life upon seeing the hulking shadow of the slightly taller reptilian being nudging into his home- now though, in the illumination of the lanterns in the lobby, he saw her face brighten in surprise to him standing there.

Her yellow eyes narrowed, she grinned briefly, and slipped the rest of the way inside- her tail curling through the frame and orbiting behind her thighs.

"Monsieur'?" She asked. "You have a playful look about yourself."

"-Well, I MIGHT have planned something for us tonight, you know, a little... uhm... a little date, I guess." He smiled back at her- he brought out the European Tour Guide booklet, and wagged it up for her- she leaned closer and then hopped back with a tiny laugh, a GIGGLE.

The Deathclaw giggled. Huh.

"Oh REALLY? And what might that litterature' pour' Paris, be for?" She held a claw over her chops.

"-Uhm- Est-ce' que la...uhm...DAME, Est-ce' que la dame' souhaite' se joindre'...uhm- a' moi' pour' un repas?" He mispronounced half the words in that sentence, but he eventually got it across- and the Deathclaw's eyes beamed when he finished his little- 'Pick up line'.

"Mmm," She hummed in approval. "Tres' gentil' de votre' part. J'accepte'."

"Excellent! Uhm... U-Un' moment'," Sanford hurried towards the back of the station- his bedding chambers, by extension, it was kind of THEIR chamber now, seeing as she always shared it with him- the Deathclaw was smiling, barely keeping in this swelling feeling in her breast- it was excitement, it was joy- it gave her a high feeling, and she liked it.

CSHK-ccccsssskkkkkkkk-

-The metal frame of the mattress hissed on the floor as he dragged it across the tile- the Deathclaw's smile was briefly abolished when she saw Sanford backing into the foyer with it in tow.

He hurried to pull it just before the two counters beneath the lobby windows- he swung it sideways so that it ran parallel, it gave off a- ccsshkk-CCCK! -and he gestured to it with open hands.

"I didn't have any bigger chairs, so, I figured a bench would work."

"Parfait'." She hummed after a moment.

"You did say YES, beforehand, right? I still don't know a lot of French."

"Oui', Sanford, I did."

"THAT, I know means yes." He smiled. "-'Oui'.'- Feels weird on the tongue."

"T'is how I feel with German."

"Why German out of all the languages you know?" Sanford was trailing back towards the garage this time- he was listening to her as she raised one foot, and started to work behind the opposite side of the mattress and frame- her hip bumping into the counter lightly.

"I don't know, mon ami'," She huffed with effort- finally working her knees to bend under the countertop- she sat on the matt and it gave off a charismatic Sqk-kk -she wriggled her tail for a more comfortable drape over the other side. "I never completely grasped German, nor Italian. I always knew the language of Paris the best, and so I stuck with it."

Nyx folded her large arms over the countertop- doting on her wrists with a worried eye about how small the surface was in comparison to her overall arm size- she had to hunch over a bit to make it work, make it more 'Human'-like for herself.

She imagined a customer of a restaurant in the pre-War world humans lived in- ordering food, sitting down at a booth, hunching over the plate, and quietly eating while reading the paper, or interlapping bites with sips of a coffee cup.

She didn't have either of those things, but, the comparison got her in the sort of mindset she wanted.

Sanford had quoted it as a 'Date'- a little too childish for her descriptions, BUT, again, there was another but here- she'd rather be on a 'Date'- then having to hurt people, as, over the last few weeks, meshed in with the greatest time in her life, she had had to hurt MANY people.

In fact, she had killed more people recently then through her entire trek across D.C., the Commonwealth, and the ruined lands between them- before Sanford, she had been quite good at avoiding humans altogether.

But since Sanford was a straightforward guy- if someone was a threat, he ran in shooting- she couldn't just slip by things anymore, and it didn't help that he wasn't specifically DESIGNED to be able to do that, too.

Nyx had been bred for that very kind of style- even if she had never planned to use it for any other reason than keeping herself alive- it had been encoded in her very D.N.A by the United States government, and by extension the Enclave.

Even though she felt, bluntly, crappy, about being raised in an Enclave controlled facility- being grown, or raised, what have you, it didn't matter anymore- she could confidently say for herself that the encoding, the genetic modifications weren't exactly a downer for her.

They helped her to survive, to fight for what she believed in- and while before, the only thing she had believed in was just getting by- now she had a cause of sorts, and she had other people alongside her with that cause.

So that was what made the negative energy created from thinking on who she was and how she had come to be, a little less heavy for her- she was able to use those things for good, or at least what she believed was good.

"So it's not HOT, exactly," Sanford said from behind her- he crossed round the frame opposite of her flank, and put down two trays- each had an assortment of food he'd prepared on them. "-But it's the best I could do with a campfire and pots and all."

She tested the air with both her nose and her tongue as he arced an arm past her shoulder and set the aluminum tray down before her- it was a pile of that packaged beef she couldn't get enough of- and there was a tin of baked Mirelurk just above it with a fork's handle jutting out the top.

He placed a duplicate of hers next to it, and right as he made to hurry away again- she caught him, opened her mouth, and said-

"Processed food for the grand dining plan, mon ami'?"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," He sounded hurt. "-I know it's supposed to be special, I just don't have anything else-"

"I'm teasing you, Sanford," She smiled, bucking him in the arm with her horn. "It's special to me too."

"That's good," He gestured for the dark view of the lot outside. "Because there's one last thing that I prepped for this."

"Mm?"

"Watch this."

Sanford squeezed past the frame- he ran over to the doorway of the foyer's entrance- picked up a draping line of black from the shaded ground down there- she watched him curiously, tail twitching and everything.

He jerked his thumb over the wire, she heard a click of plastic.

-bzzzzzz

-And then the buzzing of electricity from outside, miniscule, and light.

She turned around, and leaned over the counter in wonder.

"Sanford..." She trailed. "...That is... Beautiful."

"You like it? It took me all day."

"...Beau'... Simply beau'."

-Outside, with just the right distance so that the cardboard slab it was crafted on wasn't immediately noticeable- was an array of lights just like the ones from Diamond City- that were arranged and hung via staples and knots, to appear just like the very symbol of the country whose language she had adopted.

The lights were almost triangular, like an angled tower- in fact, it was supposed to look like THE tower, the one and only.

It was the Eiffel Tower.

Or, at least, it was a bunch of lights set up to LOOK like the Eiffel Tower.

Sanford got his point and the ambience across.

She loved it.

"...You shouldn't have." She mused, but in part, she said it because she wanted to prevent herself from letting too much emotion show in her voice- she didn't want to ruin the moment for herself -she leaned on her elbows over her tray, and watched the light coils outside with wide, dreaming eyes.

"I shouldn't have, huh?" He laughed as he stepped back behind the frame, beside her, and sat on the matt quietly beside her. "You like it?"

"...I most certainly do..."

"It's like we're in Paris, right? It's just in a little worse-for-wear, but I'd say we've made it." He gazed at her face, even though it was turned from him.

"...And, even with the dark, if you simply tune out the board, it's... it's wonderful, Sanford."

"I'm glad. You hungry?"

"...Yes, I am, monsieur'..." The Deathclaw took the side of the tray, nudged the tin of Mirelurk onto the counter, and then brought the whole thing up- she opened her fanged mouth, tipped back her head, let the mound of Salisbury slop slide off right into her open maw.

Sanford angled his head up to watch this occur with an impressed expression- she wiggled the tray, her throat undulated once, and then she set the aluminum back down on the counter- put her elbows back up, had her chin in her palms- it was as if he hadn't spent the last hour making them both dinner.

Interesting how that just happened.

"...Good, I'm guessing?" He laughed beside her, picking up his fork from his tin, and jabbing a slab of Salisbury on his own tray.

"...-Oh!" She realized what had transpired, and looked dumbly between the empty and full trays, head reclining from her hands. "-I-I suppose- I got carried away-"

"It's fine," Sanford smiled at her. "The point was for a special night for you, I'd say it's special, I'm having fun already."

"...Oh, Sanford." She nudged him with her arm, and watched the lights outside in the middle of the court. The night silently overtook the ambience then as Sanford quietly ate, and she quietly observed the pretend Eiffel Tower.

As her mind conjured up images of a golden cityscape around the base of that tower- she made up a scenario in her head- of Sanford and her sitting in whatever was left of Paris, miles and miles away, THOUSANDS of miles away... And that the only thing still standing, and still lit up, was the real Eiffel Tower.

It was a sad scenario for her, because she felt for the countries of the world, and she had literally missed out on how beautiful they were before the bombs- but it was also a stirring scenario for her, because she would be with Sanford, and she obviously enjoyed him very much.

She was smiling.

"I did good, then." Sanford chuckled at her as he swallowed another mouthful of steak- shifting on the matt, the frame squeaked a bit. "You look like you're thinking."

"...I'm always thinking." She mumbled, still smiling. "I don't want to think now, though, I want to sit here with you, and nothing else."

"You believe it? After all the things we've done the last few weeks," Sanford shook his head, scooping up more Salisbury. "It all culminated for us doing something simple like this. Ha."

"...I thought all a warrior wanted was to just go home, monsieur'." She looked down at him, nudging her head past her shoulder.

"...You're right," He paused, swallowing again. He put his fork down, and linked eyes with her. "Where do you think home is, Nyx?"

"I think it's here."

"I've been here this long, no use in leaving now?"

"Mm."

"...I'm glad to hear that."

"Were you concerned I'd say otherwise?"

"Well... Yeah, a little. Yeah I was."

"Because of that female?"

"...Yeah. Yeah that's part of it."

"You exerted a certain control over yourself, monsieur'," She said to him, eyes failing to level with his now- she decided to focus on his chest as she worded this. "In loyalty to something that we didn't even know will be certain. I... could never be angry at you, for it."

"It felt wrong," He mumbled. "I didn't want to do something that came out from some stupid disagreement we had... Something serious like what... that... girl... had planned."

"You've never been romantically involved with someone before, monsieur'?"

"...I've shot more people than I've even smiled at." He sighed. "I was too young when the bombs hit, I was still a kid, I had a few more years in High School, I had my whole life ahead of me, it didn't involve guns, or blood, or violence, or a world that was dead."

"I've asked many questions about it,"

"-They don't bother me, if that's what you're worried about." He shrugged, snickering. "I think I said it some point before, I've had my time to be angry at how my life turned out."

"But does it really anger you, monsieur'?"

"Does what?"

" Having it all taken away from you like that, vole'."

"...I just," He shrugged again. "I focus on knowing that I'm able to do things no one in my old life, in the old world, could have ever dreamed of doing, and that makes it alright for me. I was dealt a shitty hand, and I turned it into something else."

"I never thought that way with my life." She shook her head. "I admire that."

"What? The line of thinking?"

"How YOU interpreted your peril."

"I wouldn't call it peril," He admitted. "Not after the Vault."

"A decade of surviving in this hellhole would not be considered peril?"

"It was dangerous," He laughed. "Of course it was freakin' dangerous, it was death-defying, it was INSANE, but, once me and Han' got our act together, and we started LIVING, not just surviving... There's so many things I hate, but there's so many things I think are just amazing."

"Beautiful?" She angled her head for the cardboard and the light formation stapled to it outside. "Like your tour' Eiffel?"

"I've never used it as an adjective, but, hey, new things every day." Sanford folded his arms in his lap- forgetting about the small remains of his food still left before him. They were focusing more on each other than the little lightshow outside.

Nyx was lightly flexing her fingers together in a clench beside her cheekbone, she gazed round her shoulder and contemplated on him, seeming quite content.

"...It's unfortunate that I'm taller than you," She said after a passing of silence. "I've read in some lien' amoureuse' novels that leaning on the man's shoulder is a sort of cultural icon, has to do with- 'Dating' -so to speak."

"Well if you move over a little bit, you can, um..." He motioned for her lap under the counter. "-Get some distance, lean over, and you should get a good even angle with me."

"That sounds overly complicated, mon ami'." She hummed.

"It's actually ironic," Sanford said. "You couldn't STAND being touched when you were stuck in my suit."

She rumbled a laugh to it- shifted over more, and physically leaned on him with her scaly arm, she looked out at the lights and the dark of the night again- Sanford didn't recline away from it- he lifted an arm and curled it as best he could over her waist, hooked his hand on her hip, and squeezed lightly.

"Ironic too, how that changed." He added.

"...It's nice to have someone."

"Yeah."

"...I'm glad I fell out of the sky in front of both of you, even the usiner'."

"That's saying something."

"I know," She groaned jokingly. "What have you DONE to me?"

"What have YOU, done to ME," He countered. "You know how long it's been since I've touched someone for this long? I don't even remember the last time I hugged another person, I just..."

"...Sanford," He felt a snaking limb of warmth cascade over his center-back- she kept her fingers bunched in a fist to mitigate risk from her nails. "The only other person I even considered attachment with was blown to pieces in front of me, and he was the same species as me. How do you think I feel?"

"...I understand... Say, what IS this? Do we know yet?"

She didn't answer him- she distanced herself from the edge of the counter, shifting backwards on the matt, giving herself some wiggle room- she bowed down to him, and, since there wasn't such a huge height difference, it was quite easy- Sanford had a pair of yellow eyes right in front of his.

The tips of her curling horns were on either side of his head- she angled the ridge right over her nose more towards him to avoid poking him.

He remembered the first time she had done this to him, he expected a cold feeling, a smooth, cool sensation of scales- but instead, his forehead, and the ridge between his eyes, were met with soothing warmth with a tinge of a leathery texture.

The heat radiating from her encompassed all over his head, his body- the Deathclaw held herself there, and it wasn't for anything special, or even really serious- she just wanted him there, with her, touching her- it was a feeling both of them had been denied.

What she said was true- all a warrior wanted was to go home- but, Sanford liked to think that warriors longed for things the average person took for granted- material comforts, stress over such 'Domestic' things, love.

He didn't know if this was something to word that powerfully- something like full-blown LOVE, but, this certainly was two battered people taking companionship from each other- it was just nice to have someone there.

The Wasteland was a big and lonely place- by this point, he just couldn't feel that same lack of attraction anymore, that her being a big, upright lizard created.

Aside from that Jess in Diamond City- when would an opportunity for something like this ever happen to him again?

What did it matter by this point?

Lizard or not, he cared for her- he didn't really UNDERSTAND everything about it entirely yet, but... Hey, it was there, that meant something to him. She meant something to him.

They rocked a bit in that stance- he shut his eyes and sighed.

"...What is it?" She murmured.

"...It's just so strange."

"What is strange?"

"Just... Holding you, it's strange."

"Why, Sanford?"

"Because I've never done it in my life."

"Should I stop?"

"Nope."

"Mm."

"...So this- 'Nyx' title, is gonna' be definite, right?"

"...Yes. I haven't focused very much on it lately, obviously."

"Well, about time" He chuckled. "I've was getting tired of- 'Ms. Angrypants' -all the time."

"I don't even WEAR pants, you connard'."

"That's not nice, Angrypants."

"Mm." She smiled as he laughed at her- and without really thinking about it- he shifted his head back, and planted a peck on the scales between her eyes.

...Blinking in this moment of disorientation- she raised her head back from him, squinting, scrutinizing him.

"What was that?" She mumbled.

"...What?" Sanford frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Non', but... What was that, what you just did?"

"Oh, pfft, it was... uhm... it was nothin'." He shrugged, breaking eye contact, focusing on her thigh for a moment. "You know, I... I appreciate your company, and, all that..."

"But what did you do with your mouth?"

"...Ahm, I don't know, it's..."

"The soldier of stone, kissing me? AGAIN?" She grinned widely. "I'm flattered, mon cher'."

"Now it's mon CHER'?"

"Oui'." -The Deathclaw completely overshot her own expectations too- Sanford had never seen her bunch up the mass on the tips of her chops- her 'Lips' if you could call it that- and then she came back down, and he felt warmth, slight moisture, dead center his forehead.

He was lost in the smoother looking scales of her throat as they took up most of his vision- he felt a tiny bit of suction, and she detached silently- reaffirming her look to him, she was smiling, giddy.

"I believe I could accept this as a habit relatively quickly, Sanford." She hummed. "I like it."

Dumbfounded at just how quickly she... PICKED UP on that, Sanford suddenly grew daring-

"-Hey, you wanna' try something?"

"Oh?" Her tail was curling back and forth behind her. "What might this 'Thing' be?"

"Can you do that again? But just, like this-" Sanford put on a pucker to his lips. "Show me how you do that."

She blinked, and, fighting with the mass of her chops again- she eventually angled her head lower, and 'Puckered' the tip of her snout.

It looked so... Weird.

These friggin' 'Kissy lips'- on a biogenetic reptilian beast.

Who thought of this insanity?

"...I think that's unbelievable," He laughed. "Look at that..."

"Why?" She fixed her face, smiling. "Why is that funny, Sanford? It's the best I can do."

"-I'm not saying it's bad, I think it's funny, ehm... AMAZING, that you can do that... Your mouth wasn't built... for it..."

"...Oh..."

"-B-But I like it!" He encouraged. "Do it again, and come here."

"...Sur'."

Recreating the pose as instructed- she angled down to him again- and even with all the effort she was making, he could see the tension in her expression, the way her face tightened up. It was exciting, in a way.

Sanford experimented with her- he pressed against her, and instantly, he was overcome with this lightheaded feeling... Because it felt so odd for him.

The oral connection with that woman, Jess, in Diamond had been an alien event to his senses- but this, THIS, was completely outlandish, in fact, Sanford got a little lightheaded just partaking in it- though, that might have had something to do with the lack of oxygen after a bit. Didn't matter.

Nyx was making a sound he had never heard from her before- it was a rumbling reverberation, almost like a purr- since when did Deathclaws do that? Maybe she was the only one. Didn't matter.

So far, the last month had been amazing, it had been insane, it had been worse than a pair of handcuffs- but here, and now, tonight, none of that mattered.

-Thus, Sanford Tobs slowly detached his lips from the bunched tip of her snout, and he smiled at her heavy-looking, little yellow eyes, his shoulders hopped in a deep laugh, and he pulled her as close as he could, hooking his arms over her scaly, larger waist.

She unbunched her chops and laughed with him- her long, crocodilian head lowering to lean against him once more- and they both just sat there, on the makeshift excuse of a bench, before the lights outside of Sanford's fake Eiffel Tower, and they enjoyed each other.

Sanford detached one of his hands from her hips, and he held it by their sides- and in moments she had her larger fingers intertwined with it there.

"...I can't get Hancock's little comment out of my head." Sanford's laughter was still in his voice. "Worse than a pair of handcuffs, you remember when he said that?

"Oui', I do, mon cher'."

"What do you think?"

"It was worth every bullet, every fight, and every hardship."

"You mean that, Nyx?"

"I do, Sanford."

The Deathclaw bunched her chops up again- and she kissed him for a second time.

The world may have been dead, his parents may have been a lie to him, to the Commonwealth- and a fight that he was uncertain of was just around the corner with the most powerful people in the post-apocalyptic world.

But Sanford Tobs was a happy, happy man in his little gas station, with his two best friends in this insane, irradiated, fallout-ridden planet that used to be the throne of mankind's splendor.

He had found the people who had given him life- and while the result had not been what he had wished for, it put his mind to rest. He had ensured the safety of the loud-mouthed robot that was his only friend for the last decade, and he had secured this... Passion, he would call it, with Nyx, and he loved it.

He loved the feelings he got from tonight, from the relief, the clear mind... He loved her, too.

And- most importantly, he agreed with her.

-It was all insane, deadly, dangerous, exciting, daring, scary, amazing, arduous... Worse than a pair of handcuffs, and he'd do it all again, and again, and again.

As a small boy, one day he had heard the loudest, muffled bang.

It was an explosion, sharp, and echoing, that reverberated down the streets of his urban development, bounced off the aluminum shed his father had built behind the house, and shook all the US Army models on his nightstand.

It was a sound, that was completely foreign to his sheltered life, and thus, it was a sound, that in his youth, had terrified him as the merits of propaganda would enact.

-As a full grown man, he forgot about that explosion completely for the first time in his life in the very world it had wrought.

He didn't see the bloom of nuclear detonation in Nyx's eyes anymore- he saw a bright light.

They both parted from each other's eyes to stare out at the little cardboard and wire Eiffel Tower, and they imagined a pre-War cityscape of Paris together.

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~FIN~

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