confidants

1

Arcade is starting to see how Novac is Aerri's second home. They always stop by whenever they pass it, this most recent visit included. Aerri had said something about a man named Bruce that would fit Torini's bill.

Arcade doesn't argue. Among everything that had just happened, with Mr. House, Benny, Yes Man... Aerri needed an excuse to walk across the desert and clear his head. The Tops wanting some more theatre acts was as good as any.

Aerri gathers who he can for a round - or three - of drinks. Boone and Manny both join in, considering REPCONN no longer needs their vigilant attention. Cliff also joins, bringing along his own inventory from his shop.

Arcade sits back, listening but not participating much. Aerri avoids recounting their debacle on the Strip, instead gushing about their trysts with the Fiends and locking down Vault 34, telling them that, "Arc's a real beast in the field, I swear." Arcade politely bats away any challenges to target practice, even when Manny insists they'll just shoot bottles.

"So," Manny hums as he drinks down another swig of whiskey, "what's goin' on, man? I heard this report that Benny took off again. I thought you'd've killed him by now." Aerri's face falls slightly, like he's been trying to avoid the subject, and he sighs. Word travels fast.

"Fucking terrible," Aerri mutters after a second, running a hand down his face. He's so exasperated. "He dipped out and just...took off towards Caesar's territory with the chip." He squeezes his eyes shut, "I hesitated. I should've shot him between the fucking eyes, I just..." His eyes flit over to Arcade for a split-second before he huffs, "I don't know." He reaches into his pocket and holds up Caesar's mark, waving it, "Caesar's favourite bitch snuck into the Strip, gave me this and said he wanted to see me."

"And you're going?" Cliff speaks up now, leaning in. Aerri looks at Arcade again, this time for a longer moment, like he's considering an answer. He lets out a long sigh as he looks at Cliff.

"I don't know. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't wanna just line Benny and Caesar up and send one bullet flying through both of their soft skulls if I do."

Arcade's frightfully aware of Aerri's hatred towards the Legion, and his waxing distaste for Benny, but has never heard him speak about it so cerebrally. Arcade wouldn't doubt Aerri would feel just the same if he were sober, dead set on his black-and-white opinion.

Aerri pockets the emblem and takes a final swig of the beer bottle in his hand before huffing, dropping it unceremoniously into the dirt and standing.

"It's late. I'm heading to bed," he announces, reaching for his bag. Boone stands up after him, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"Then I'm heading back to my post," he says, ever so stoic and to the point. Manny protests, though he's the only one, as Cliff bids them a goodnight and heads back towards the town.

"Hey, doc, have one last drink with me," Manny offers forward the rest of his whiskey to Arcade, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, no, thanks," Arcade refuses politely, standing alongside Aerri. "I should probably go, too." Aerri laughs, nudging Manny with a leg. He nearly falls off the log he's seated on, barely catching his balance.

"Go to bed before you're too hungover to do your day shift," he teases as he goes off towards the town. He beckons, "Off we go, Arc."

"Uh- Goodnight, Manny," Arcade calls after a moment as he follows, giving an awkward wave to the man. Manny calls sarcastically after them, "Sure, I'll just clean up!" and Aerri gives a dismissive wave, ignoring the faux malice in his voice.

Aerri trudges up the steps and into his room, tossing his bag to the side and sighing, long and deep.

"Home," he says simply, before slipping off his boots and duster, dropping them haphazardly to the floor. Arcade does the same, though he lines his shoes by the door and hangs his coat on the stand.