Far Harbor Adventure Battle 2

[chem_break]

[ Sleeping in shifts had seemed to be the smartest plan, until Far Harbor's terrible weather so rudely interrupted with raging thunder about half-way through the trip. Even the waters outside the Nakano Residence were rough and choppy to start, all the way at the tip of the Commonweath's coast. The waters did not get kinder and the storm only grew nastier as the sturdy boat ferried the Mainlanders three towards the mist-cloaked island. Upon arrival, the lights of the dock-stationed town look like a water-logged oil-painting. The rain gives everything a blurry aura, even before the scorching flashes of radiation-green.

Even Allen's gun shop has closed its shutters, the Bait Shop battened down to protect the doctor's office tucked in back. The tables and chairs scattered through the town's common areas are empty, and while a few people are in their homes, most people are in the bar.

It's the most water-secure building in town, oddly enough. The best place to wait for the rain to lighten. Nick can take a little more moisture than round one, and Evaris, a little more radiation. It doesn't seem like anyone is eager to try pushing their luck, what with how the worst radiation storms tend to call out the worst beasts. Does the wind need more, or less caution? ]

Well this ain't fuckin' ideal

[ Hancock and Nick are seated at a table towards the back of the bar, tucked against a climbing stairway. For the moment, Evaris is off chatting up the bar tender, trading caps for drinks and info accordingly. The ghoul is on his fourth consecutive smoke, and he's running through whatever his coat gives him that he can light and drink smoke off of. Nothing is hitting him hard enough-- which is probably good, because he needs to keep his senses sharp, here. Nicotine inclines focus but Mary Jane inclines whimsy. Sobriety inclines fucking insanity though, so it's a delicate balancing act. He's gunna throw booze on this fire when Var brings it over.

The ghoul's liquid shadow eyes flicker to Nick across the table. ]

You wanna drag?

[ He tries to sound casual, scouring the sadness from his voice, because Nick must be distressed enough without having to shoulder the ghoul's useless depression. A Nothing feeling, worth Nothing and good for Nothing... he tries to burn it down with a scalding inhale. The spliff's cherry creates twin reflections in the ghoul's carefully collected stare.

This Watching is Agonizing. Every moment, checking, re-checking, making sure, hoping... all while just wanting to haul Nick into his lap and never let him go again. Hold him, and kiss him, and disappear into the addictive felicity that Nick always so generously overdoses him on. Hancock's Poker Face has never been so drastically important to the task at hand. These gambles and bluffs play for far more than caps. ]