Bleeding Steel

Chapter Nineteen: Ode to Nora

The door to his room flew open, crashing back into the wall. Danse jolted from his shallow slumber, his instincts screaming for him to arm himself. The world spun sickeningly as he sat bolt upright, one hand groping blindly in the dark for a weapon.

His fingers brushed against something cool and smooth but then it was gone. Glass shattered on the floor beside the bed and the air was suddenly permeated with a strong smell of whiskey.

"Wakey wakey!"

The room was flooded in dirty yellow light as a bulb ignited over his bed and Danse groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his face with his hands. Pain spiked at the back of his eyeballs and his head felt like it was being struck by a super sledge from the inside.

"It is time to rise and shine, my friend!" Vadim Bobrov half shouted, glass crunching beneath his boots as he swaggered into the room, bearing a laden tray in his arms. "You have big day ahead of you!"

"What are you doing?" Danse scowled, his voice hoarse. His throat was raw with thirst and his mouth dry as the wasteland in summer.

Vadim dropped the tray onto the bed, upsetting the grubby glass pitcher he'd been carrying and spilling water all over the sheets.

"Oops!" Grinning, Vadim quickly righted it, leaving a large wet patch on the thin sheets perilously close to Danse's legs. "I am getting you ready for the day, my friend! Today feels like good day, eh? Like day where many good things might happen!"

As he spoke, Vadim raised the pitcher and poured a generous amount of water into a stained pint glass.

Today is already starting off badly. Danse thought darkly, lowering his hands to glower at the barkeep with bleary, bloodshot eyes.

Vadim just grinned in response, thrusting the glass at him and spilling some of its contents in the process. Danse sighed, shooting him a dark look before taking a tentative sip of the water.

It was warm and tasted faintly of Nuka-Cola.

I suppose I should just be grateful he thought to empty out the alcohol first.

He swilled the water around his mouth, trying to wash away the remnants of last night's whiskey. Vadim sat down on the bed beside him, the mattress sinking under his weight.

As Danse pointedly ignored him, chugging down the rest of the water with a grimace, the barkeep began to speak again.

"You look like you've had rough night, eh? Busy drowning your sorrows?"

Danse winced at the volume of his voice, sighing heavily through his nose as he placed the now empty glass back on the tray. When he didn't reply, Vadim frowned thoughtfully, raising a hand to rub at his chin.

"Hmmm... Okay. I'm working with a quiet guy here."

Danse raised an eyebrow as he turned to glare at him.

"It's okay." Vadim smirked, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Women love broody men. Well, when they are tall, dark and handsome. Lucky for you, eh? Although, and no offence, my friend, you could do with some... work."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Danse sighed, resigning himself to the fact that Vadim wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Oooohhh you'll see!" Vadim winked. "But for now we must sober you up!" With that he grabbed a triangle of razor grain toast from a plate and jabbed it at Danse's lips. "Eat! We have much to accomplish!"

Danse turned his head away sharply, the toast scraping against his beard and raining crumbs down his chest and onto the sheets. He couldn't remember the last time someone had dared invade his space so brazenly, not since before the Brotherhood when Cutler had practically forced his friendship upon him...