ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Jackson Though the farmland was still rather empty, things were coming along nicely. The majority of the ghouls who'd been plaguing the land had been cleared out with assistance from some good samaritans and hired help, and a few of the more run-down shambles of buildings that had been on the property for gods-knew how long stood empty for the first time in years. As such, the deputy's little plot of land was starting to look less like the zombie apocalypse, and more like an actual home. Of course, if he wanted it to be functional, there was still loads to be done. But for the time being, this place was the perfect atmosphere for a little party of sorts.
They'd hang on the front porch of the least run-down of the buildings dubbed, 'The Ranch House', drink whiskey, and pop caps at the ghouls that decided to show their faces. Maybe Jack would even work on his bike a little bit in the mean time. There were still a few hours wait until they needed to make their way toward that old Repcon heap, so the deputy was going to use the time to his advantage.
Jackson downed a sizeable gulp of his whiskey with a shake of his head, propping his sunglasses on the edge of his nose as he gazed out toward the empty farmland. For now, there didn't seem to be any ghouls in sight. At least, not in his sight. With the amount of whiskey he'd consumed up to this point, that was really anybody's guess whether it was the truth or not. As far as he knew, there could be an entire legion of the bastards charging the porch right this second, and he wouldn't be able to see it through the dirt clinging to his glasses. So, wiping off the mirrored lenses with a sleeve, he gave Tibbie an easy-going glance, and took another sip of his whiskey.
"Now this? This is the kinda place I take a lady. Get drunk, shoot trespassers. That's more up my alley."
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell was here as well, sippin alcohol and simply chillin on the porch. He rocks back and forth in his power armor, looking around the area. He was invited to shoot ghouls and not a single ghoul has been shot! What a bummer!
Tibbie      Tibbie's finished with her ice cream welcome wagon and has shown up early to Jackson's farm, she's never been there and she signed up to help out later that day anyways with Jack's big trip out to the Mojave. Now that she's here taking in the landscape with a bottle in hand things are really looking up! She's happy to see that her and Will's day have intertwined yet again and she's not too far off from him on the porch as she's up and leaning on the wall behind her.

Tibbie's horse Butter isn't too far off either, he's just chilling out doing things idle horses do.

"This spot aint all too bad Jack! Some'na wood aint too rotted neither!" Tibbie says seeing the brighter side of things and clinking her bottle to the wall behind her.

"Thanks for the booze too Chief!"
Jackson "Anytime, Anytime." The deputy responded casually, taking another shallow sip out of his cup. "It's not too bad at all, but definitely still needs a good bit of work. I've got the caps for it, but I'll be putting up a barn, sorting out some farmland, maybe digging a water source. Throwing a radio tower up so I can keep in touch with El Dorado, y'know. The usual shit. Nothin' too fancy. Ideally I'll be able to breed some horses up this way, and start supplyin' them to some of the tribals 'roudn these parts. 'Fer a price, o'course." As he rambled, Jackson gazed at Butter as he idled along through the fields. He was accompanied by Jack's own horse, a white-maned silver mare he'd taken to calling Ladyfingers, who seemed to be particularly happy she was absent her saddlebags for once in her life. The ol' girl (though she couldn't have been more than eight or nine) was right at home here in Mojave. At least, she was on his farm.
"Sorry to disappoint Caldwell. Seems The death of their friends convinced the ghouls to stay down in the warrens today. Last thing I want is that-- I'd rather the smelly bastards let me get them the hell out of here. I kinda' feel bad capping them, but at the same time they're just such a god damn irritance."
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell nods to Jackson. "It's cool. Just figured there'd be something to shoot is all." he says. "How are you doing out here Tid Bits? Butter doing well?"
Tibbie      "My big lil ButterBuddy's doin good today! I let him be most the day a'fore heading out here. I aint try and work him too hard, I got my feet to be walkin on too." she waves out to Butter and Ladyfingers, then takes a swing. "Sure's a lot hotter out here than Brigham, even with the sun sortin down some." Tibbie comments and stretches. "Say Jack, you got all the gear y'need ready?" She asks and hooks her boot onto the handle of her drawstring bag, hoisting it up.

"I always got food to back us up!" Tibbie chimes in. Though she never looks prepared beyond that, sure there's a bat hanging from one of her belt loops, and a clear outline of a pistol in her bag. But armor, multiple weapons, or even socks? Forget about it.
Jackson "Yeah, I get waht ya' mean, Caldwell. If ya' were here a few weeks back, there'd have been more to shoot than ammo you could carry. Even you." With a smirk, Jack waved his hand up toward Caldwell's head, emphasizing just how much bigger the man was in comparison to himself. He always liked having a man like that around-- Jack was only fast enough to dodge so many bullets. It helped to have some steel in between him and his targets. As Tibbie spoke, Jack gave her a nod in the affirmative, both in regard to the weather, and his gear.
"I swear, it gets hotter up this way then the bottom of hell itself. I don't even want to think about how sticky it's gonna get 'round these parts once the summer heat starts kicking in. As for my gear... Hold that thought." At that, The deputy politely placed his cup on the edge of the porch, and strolled into the doorless entryway to the Ranchhouse. He spent a few idle moments in there unclasping his gear, and shuffling into his armor, but after he did so, he stumbled his way back out onto the front porch, clad head-to-toe in his armored black shell. He removed it's integrated helmet while they continued sitting on the porch, and nonchalantly withdrew and lit a cigarette with a refillable lighter.
"I'm all set. But.. You might wanna' be careful if that's all you're packin'. You need any extra heat? Maybe an extra layer of protection?" He said, gesturing toward her absence of evident weaponry or armor.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell nods and smiles down at Jackson. "Shame. Maybe some other time." he says chuckling lightly. "Yeah, it's fairly hot. It's nice that Power Armor is air conditioned inside. Feels good man." He looks over towards Tibbles. "You uhh..should probably get at the very least a gun."
Tibbie      "It's cool in those things?!..I gotta gun, here look!" Tibbie's excited to learn new things and also show off her little pistol as she pulls it out from her bag.

"See? It's pretty neat! Traded my rifle fer it at the market a few days ago, guy said I'd be able to shoot with somthin I kin'carry better!" Tibbie tries to sell it to the guys, also trying to twirl it around her finger but it thuds to the ground instead, not firing thankfully. Tibbie pops the pistol back to the bag and finds her hands on the bottle again, taking another swig.
Jackson At Tibbie's display of her pistol, it earned a brief smile from Jack as he showed off his own armor. "Most suits like these ones have integrated climate control systems, provided it's not one that hasn't been taken care of. I've been tinkering around with the HUD module on mine for ages, can't seem to get it reactivated quite yet though. Needs a little bit more tinkering." At that, the deputy started heading down toward his bike with duty in his mind.
"You need a ride, Tibbie? You're welcome to leave Butter 'round here with Lady. He won't be botherin' nothin'. Nothin'll be botherin him, nobody even realizes this shithole's up this way." With that, he chuckeld at himself, and folded the hood of his armored suit over his head, reconnecting it to the facemask and vocal modulators. He slipped his glasses on around the gap in his faceplate, then turned back to Caldwell.
"You're welcome to any booze you find around here, and welcome to hang and cap any ghouls that walk out. You can follow us over to the Repcon facility as well, rumor is there might be some shiny stuff in there to pilfer. Either way, you're welcome to anything that's mine."
With all that set in place, Jack made sure Ladyfingers was tended to, and mounted his bike for the inevitable journey Northward. Hopefully the seat didn't make his ass too sore this time around. If Tibbie needed a ride, she was welcome to hitch a ride on his bike. Otherwise, he'd make sure to keep a slow enough pace so that her horse'd be able to keep up with him. Either way, the real challenge of the day was yet to begin.