Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 32: Elder, General And... Mediator?

Hmm...

Someone had cleaned away the bloody handprint on his chestplate...

Danse stood before his limp power armor, hands on hips in puzzled deliberation, staring at the pristine circle in the centre of the torso, where the handprint had been. The rest of his suit was still swathed thickly in grime and battle-dust. Who in the hell would take it upon themselves to wipe off the handprint so perfectly, even going as far as to polish the steel, but not bother with the rest of the plating? Ingram must have been in one of her odd finicky moods this morning...

Shrugging, Danse grabbed at the cloth slung over his shoulder and got stuck into liberating the rest of his armor.

The rest of the day rolled along in tedium. The Paladin kept himself occupied with reports, and power armor maintenance and repairs, but there was only so much he could busy himself with, and soon, there was nothing left to do. Usually at such times of a cleared schedule, he would pass the hours with either some high intensity cardio or delve into some weights, but his body was still filing him complaints from yesterday's outing, so he decided to take it easy.

Plus, the headache was particularly sharp today. Nightmares of drowning in a pool of blood and oil hadn't aided him much, either. At least it was a break from the usual recurring nightmares...

So, he was free, bored, and in the mood for some idle chat to take his mind off last night's addition to his nightmare collection. It all collated to the perfect excuse to visit Harper.

Retiring his tools from his armor, Danse grabbed his bomber jacket by the scruff and went off in the direction of the private infirmary units, keeping his head down as way of avoiding unwanted run-ins and discouraging any prompts. In the back of his mind, there was also his want to remain inconspicuous to his intentions. But why? He was off-duty, and a commissioned officer, meaning he was free to roam the Prydwen at his leisure, which included visiting a wounded friend.

Because she was just a friend.

He was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with it at all. He was completely within his rights to check in on her.

Strangely, the front counter was devoid of Knight-Captain Cade. Shouldn't he be keeping an eye on her? In fact, Danse wouldn't have put it past Maxson to have stationed a guard at the entrance. More so to keep Harper in than to protect against intruders.

He stood idly in the entranceway for a moment, contemplating his next actions, scratching at his stubble. Cocking a single brow, he leaned back to peer down the hall, scoping out each direction for possible lurkers. No one. Would his visiting her unattended look suspicious?

Hmm...

He was being ridiculous.

Leaning back into the room, Danse shrugged and wandered in deeper, checking out Cade's setup as he approached the plastic panel screening Harper's cubical.

"Harper?"

No answer. Hmm.

"Harper, you in there?" he tried again, listening intently for any rustlings of sheets. When there was still no answer, he glanced back at the entrance, then shifted aside the screen.

She wasn't in there.

The pit of Danse's stomach froze over. Oh, no.