Good Night, Vegas Lights

Chapter 18

Noah was surprisingly calm, whereas Vincent's nerves were widdled away by the second.
  "Noah, where exactly are you from?"
He seemed surprised by the suddenness of the question. Not to mention, it was the first time Vince had been the one asking it.
  "Me? I'm from... California"
  "Really now? Whats it like?"
  "Calm, I guess you could say. Or maybe its because Ive never been anywhere other than where I was born, and the Mojave is a bit on the wild side. What about you?"
That was actually strange in way. Sam had told Vince that she was born and raised in Arizona.
  "I was born in Texas. Seems like a lot of people like me come from around there."
  "Right, right..."
  "What about Sam?"
  "She was born in Arizona. Though our family was eventually pushed west by the Legion."
Now that made sense.
  "Uh huh."
The small talk wasn't helping the situation.
  "So you gave them the rest of the wages?"
  "Yes. We just need the rest."
  "How do you expect we're going to get it?"
  "Why I figured we'd just leave and find someone to lend us a hand."
This guy can't be serious...
  "...But we can't"
  "Can't what?"
  "...Leave"
  "Why not?"
  "Have you tried the door?"
Vincent wasn't normally a smart ass, but he made sure his tone was sarcastic as he gestured towards the suite's door. Noah jumped up from the couch and ran to the door. He jerked at the handles to no avail. They were indeed locked still.
  "What the fuck are we going to do?!"
Vincent held his head in his hands. It was clear Noah was naive in so many ways.
  "What makes you think I know?"
  "You're- You're... Well I don't know!"
  "Exactly"
  "We can't stay here!"
  "Look... Do you know where Shannon is?"
  "Shannon? No, they told me she was with you"
  "Well she's not, obviously"
  "Why do you care?"
  "Because, I'm not letting anyone else get hurt because of me"
  "What about me?!"
Noah was a confusing personality. When they first met, Noah seemed the calm quiet type. Maybe strong if the need arose. Now, though, he was frantic and clueless.
  "Noah... Can I ask you a question?"
  "What?"
  "That whole little act you played back at McCarren, that was all bullshit wasn't it?"
  "N-No"
  "Your just some kid from California, aren't you? Your not no experienced wasteland journeyman."
  "...........Maybe"
  "Oh for fuck's sake!"
Vincent threw his hands into the air, disgruntled. Hearing those words made him thirsty for a drink. He somewhat thanked the Omertas for locking them in a suite. There was a bar at least. A bar fully stocked with some of the best booze on the Strip. Booze that were perfect for easing his nerves. He snagged a bottle of bourbon from beneath the counter. When he popped it open Noah turned around in surprise.
  "Is now really a good time to drink?"
  "Any time is a good time"
Vincent didn't even bother to pour himself a drink, he went straight for the bottle itself.
  "I don't think being drunk and imprisoned is a good combination"
  "Look kid, I'm just passing the time"
Vince sprinted up the short flight of stairs that led up to the loft, hoping he'd find a certain something lying around. He dug through a handful of drawers before eventually finding his prize. The familiar red inhaler, jet. Vincent peeked over the edge to see what Noah was doing, he had busied himself with a book. Tick had urged Vincent to cease his addiction. Though, at the moment Vince really had no reason to not indulge. He was locked in a room with an uninteresting man who was a hopeless case. Shannon was somewhere unknown. There was no money to his name, and the Omertas were an uncompassionate bunch. Plus withdrawal was a bitch. So the bourbon and drugs were comforting.

Vincent spent quite a long time in the loft. He downed the bourbon, along with an additional bottle of vodka that he'd found, all while splurging with jet in between. Eventually he wandered back downstairs looking for another refreshment. He barely made it down the stairs without collapsing in his drunken state. Just before reaching the counter, he tripped over his own feet and slammed into a shelf. The impact sent the empty bottles that adorned the shelves crashing to the floor quite loudly. Vince hit the floor, and decided to stay there. Even as Noah walked over to investigate he remained stagnant, aside from the fact that he began to light a cigarette. Now it seemed Noah was mad. The glare he gave Vincent was quite sinister.
  "I don't see why Sam invested so much in you"
  "W-W-What else is therrrrre ta' do?"
Vince's hands couldn't cease shaking enough for him to successfully light the cigarette.
  "How about thinking of some sort of way out of here?"
  "Nnnnnnuh huh. You think of anything?"
  "...No"
  "Exactly my p-point"
Vincent sat up the best he could, and pulled yet another bottle of alcohol off the shelf. After another failed attempt at igniting the cigarette, he looked up to Noah and held the lighter out to him.
  "Would you mind, derrring me a fffffavor?"
Noah begrudgingly took the lighter, though just before he lit Vince's cigarette he unexpectedly pulled the flame back. Something had caught his attention. Noah grabbed the alcohol Vincent had gotten and pulled a rag out from under the counter. Vince stared at him in disbelief as he assembled a molotov cocktail. Noah held his creation in one hand and Vincent's lighter in the other. As he walked towards the door, Vincent used the bar to pull himself up and stumble after him. Noah lit the rag, but just before he tossed the molotov Vince stopped him.
  "H-H-Hold onnnn"
Vincent leaned in and used the flaming cloth to finally light his cigarette. Noah laughed just a tad before chunking the fire bomb at the suite's door. Both the men had underestimated the molotov's power, and both were blown back by the searing force of the explosion. As Vince struggled to regain his standing, the doorway was engulfed in flames. Though it offered little obstacle to the pair as they quickly ran through it. Noah turned to Vincent in surprise and pointed to his shoulder.
  "Um... Vincent..."
Vince glanced down to see that his shoulder was mildly aflame.
  "Oh. Fire. Hot!"
He quickly patted it out, slightly unphased. Even in his stupor, Vincent knew that the Omertas were going to be on top the two within seconds, and they were most certainly not going to be happy that their casino had just been lit on fire.