Chapter 1:

Of Profanity and Opportunism

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made

For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Hawkins flicked her cigarette idly, gazing up at the giant reptile.

Dinky, it's name was.

Reaching up to rub at the thin white scar adorning her forehead, the Courier tossed the butt to the ground and trudged forward to the little office of what looked to be a motel.

Damn well better be someone in there. Don't fancy gettin' eaten by a Deathclaw 'n the middle of the night. She thought grumpily.

As she made her way to the office there was only her footsteps, the rest of Novac silent in the night, with the occasional grunt from the nearby brahmin.

Standing before the door, Hawkins paused to fuss over her hair. Doc Mitchell had cropped the curly auburn mass to just below her ears, the rest of it having been matted with blood, dirt and other fluids that'd leaked out of her head. Apparently being shot in the head was quite messy. Bloodshot red eyes and slightly sunburned nose, she had no doubt she was a sore sight indeed.

"I see someone had a bad run in with the wasteland. My dear, you look absoloutely wretched." The courier recalled the words from that dog-headed asshat from Nipton. Smirk on his face the entire time, he had ignored her feral glare and continued on his way.

I don't care how smooth his voice is, guy's a prick. Spooky one, too.

Hawkins sighed and entered the office, pushing up the sleeves of her dirt stained pink hooded sweatshirt.

"Well hello there!" A grating voice rang out.

The young woman sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night.

After finally escaping Jeannie-May, the courier had coughed up the ridiculous amount of caps to rent the tiny hovel of a room. Busting through the door, she immediately kicked off her boots and tossed her machete and .10 mm on the couch, leaving her .44 magnum on the coffee table beside the bed.

Can't ever be too careful. Hawkins thought, plopping on the bed.

Stifling a yawn, she scooped up the teddy bear next to her, lay her head down on the musty pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

"You want me to do what now?" Hawkins ground out, blue eyes narrowed.

Manny looked instantly uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, uh, I can't exactly go myself. There's gotta be somone here to keep watch; Boone's the only other one."

The short woman clenched her fists, feeling the irational urge to slam Manny's face against Dinky's tail.

That'd be mean. Poor Dinky hasn't done anything to me.

Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms and crossed her arms. "That's very slippery of you, Mr. Vargas. You sure you ain't still a Kahn?" She bit, tone even.

The ex-soldier grit his teeth, eye twitching. "Look, it's not like I can just-"

"Can't just what? You expect me to do this myself? Listen here you rat bastard-" The courier hissed, stepping forward angrily.

"You mind moving?" A voice cut them off.

The two turned sharply. A man stood there, donning sunglasses and a red beret similiar to Manny's. His face was stony.

"What?" The two snarled simultaneously, before turning to glare at each other.

"Would you move? I need to get up there." His voice was steely this time, barring no room for arguement.

Manny and Hawkins stepped aside, Manny looking slightly sheepish.

"Sorry man, I-" The sharp slam of the gift shop door cut him off.

It was silent for a moment.

"...the fuck was that?" The courier asked.

"'s Boone. He's the night sniper." Manny replied tiredly , rubbing his eyes.

Hawkins snorted, turning and stomping back to the stairs.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow, rat-bastard." She slammed her door.

Manny sighed.

Hawkins bit her lip, eyeing the sniper in front of her warily.

"Pardon...don't think I caught that. You want me..to...what?"

Boone sighed audibly, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Snoop around a bit, find the one that sold out my wife. Then bring 'em to the front of the Dinosaur and put on the beret. Simple."

There was a beat of silence.

"You're all a bunch of oppurtunistic assholes, you know that?"

She stomped down the stairs before he could reply, not bothering to close the door.

Later, as she came back up the stairs, he had to open the door for her. As she stumbled into Dinky's mouth, Boone saw why.

Her hands were soaked in blood and other matter, from dragging Jeannie-May into the bushes. Blood splattered her sunburned cheek, the beret sitting on her head lopsidedly.

Boone stared at her. She glared right back.

"You failed to mention you'd be exploding her head. Right. Next. To. Me." She hissed, gesturing wildly to her blood stained attire.

He shrugged and deftly plucked the beret from her head, settling it snufly back onto his own.

"Sorry." He said simply.

Hawkins sighed and sagged against the door, tired. Helping Nightkin, shipping off delusional Ghouls and sniffing out bitchy old hags who sold people, had Hawkins dog tired.

She looked up, slightly groggy. "What'll you do now?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I dunno. Wander like you, I guess."

She surprised herself. "Come with me, why don'tcha."

Boone's head snapped up, and he stared at her intently for a moment, searching for any agenda she might be hiding. Finding none, he sighed.

"Fine, but this won't end well."

Hawkins smiled grimly. "Well look at that. I've got a buddy with a deathwish. Ain't that platinum."

And promptly fainted.

Boone sighed again, rubbing his forehead, wondering what he'd gotten into.

A/N: Schmeh. Hawkins is fun.