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Franky     The gold digger saloon was settling into the early evening routine. The western town of El Dorado saw the typical farmers and ranchers, and in rare times a couple of new york refugees might be seen. The bar is not busy, but there are a few locals around.

    Franky had procured a table, patiently waiting to exchange recent happenings with Yahweh. He killed the time sipping a large mug of some local fizzy-yellow beer. He tucked a small blade away, and blew wood shavings from the top of the table. He ran a hand across the stick figure with large circles for boobs and disperportionate eyes. He looked up to smile at a passing brothel worker.
Yah Yah slips in through the swinging saloon doors like a gentle breeze, his hat drawn from his head, past one eye narrowed against the dimness of the room. Shifting sidelong, he moves from the confines of the doorspace and begins to survey the room. The object of his appraisal identified, he's next passing through the room with a sure stride, boots striking against the dusty wooden floor in time, weaving around several other patrons and robot staff. "Franky." is his measured greeting as he reaches the table, an almost solemn nod of his head given to the other man. He says nothing else as he begins to unclasp his belt and sword, depositing them upon the man's table; this is followed by several garments from his outer layers, a collection of thin animal hides and rough cloth robes. Finally, settling down in a chair opposite the other, he kicks his heels up upon the rim of the table, grinning widely and enthusiastically.
Fern     Not far behind Yah enters Fern, catching the backward swing of saloon door as she shimmies her way up the steps and into the establishment. Her spurs jingle as she moves along, boots tapping a quick beat on the floor as the girl hurries on up to the bar. She grabs onto a stool, pulls herself up with a quick hop, then gives a little shift around once so she can survey the room while waiting for a bot to head her way. She shifts her guitar over her back, getting comfortable as she waits.
Benito The door to the saloon cracks open, and a thin shadow of a man slides inside, his face obscured beneath the wide brim of his cowboy hat. He takes a moment to beat the worst of the day's dust away from his coat before he makes a beeline for the bar, one hand going into a pocket to extract a few caps which he clanks down emphatically on the wooden bartop before calling out for his drink of choice (a whiskey on the rocks). That done, he turns and faces the rest of the establishment, leaning back on the counter still standing so that he can survey the other patrons with a sanguine, somewhat predatory eye. Who knows - perhaps he'll find his next mark in here. But what he obviously /wasn't/ expecting to find was Franky and Yah seated at one of the tables. His dark eyes widen. "Córcholis...!" he breathes, before snatching his drink away from the bartender and marching in their direction. About halfway there, he grins and draws his pistols, then walks as noiselessly as he can until he's only a half-dozen paces away from the other two men before he cocks both guns. "Oye, hombres. It's a good day to die, no?"
Franky     Breaking his attention for the brothel workers to measure Yah as he arrives and unburdens himself of gear. Franky grabs his mug and takes a long pull, making his gulp and 'ah' more audible than it should be. "Humble clothing for the leader of the diamondbacks." Franky puts up a stupid grin, his gaze shifts as Fern enters. He gives her a studying gaze turning back to Yah, "I have some stylish clothes you can have. Got a place set up in the mojave with a friend there." Benito gets a long stare, his mouth drops as he takes breathes from it.
Yah "Franky," Yahweh replies, a broad, stupid grin still plastered across his features, much at odds with his usual demeanor, "You ain't got no friends." At the sound of the pistols, his head swivels, eyebrows lifting up as their assailant comes into view. Brows hiking even further, he blinks a few times at the third man as though expecting him to disappear. "Benito." he names the man, while tugging his eyepatch up and away from his face. The solid, sickly neon green orb that appears below it has the standing man fixed in his viewpoint for a hair of a moment before he declares, "You're alive. Who's buying?"
Fern     Fern manages to catch a few of those fighting words, so naturally her eyes flick to the trio of men. She leans back against the bar, elbows propped back against it, and as she reclines a bit she gives a little smirk. Fern is a silent observer for now. There's plenty of entertainment to be had, it seems, and she ain't about to step in. She examines each man, but it's Yah that she stares at. Why? Well, she's staring at that eye and the eyepatch that has been covering it. "Sweet.." she murmurs to herself. Now the girl sits up a bit more, looking back and forth between the men.
Benito Still grinning, Benito carefully uncocks and re-holsters his weapons and shakes his head. "I can't believe it. I swear, when the ship went down, I thought for sure you two were both..." A momentarily pained look passes over Benito's face - or is that perhaps a bit of guilt? - before he lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Hell, first round's on me," he says in response to Yahweh's question. Sliding a foot out, he pulls a chair over to himself. Before sitting, he glances towards the bar and sees that the tender is busy. Mistaking Fern - who looks too young to him to be here as a patron - as a hireling, he waves at her and calls out, "Oye, chica? A round for me and my amigos, por favor."
Franky Franky was content to die as he lived, with a stupid look on his face. When Yah mentions his name, Franky's expression changes to surprise, and then a grin forms. "Amigo, where the fuck you been?" Franky stands up from his chair, looking Benito up and down. "Looks like you've been thriving out here, helps being closer to the motherland?" Franky gets Benito a slap on the shoulder then retrieves his mug of beer, he lifts it in a toast before chugging the remainder. He sits back down in his chair, rubbing his belly before letting out a beltch.
Yah After drawing the studded leather patch back into place, Yahweh kicks his heels off the table top, then he pulls his chair a little closer to sit up straight. Staring from one to the other, he seems content to hold his own counsel for now, though his good eye tacks toward the sheathed sword resting atop the table every few moments, gaze alighting specifically upon the tiny mammalian skulls ornamenting the weapon. One hand rises, a dirty thumbnail scratching beneath his covered eye in absent manner while he waits for the drinks to arrive.
Fern     Eyes shift to the side and back. Chica? Fern looks around again, then back to herself before she lifts a hand and points a finger at herself. "Me?" she asks to Benito as she leans forward slightly. She slowly slides down from the stool, shrugs, then moves to head around the bar and get behind it. The teen looks over the liquor in the bottles, picks a random one, then grabs a few glasses and brings them over to the table with the guys present. There are four glasses. Whatever's in the bottle gets poured into the glasses, and when the bottle is put down Fern takes one of the shots herself. "You guys were pirates?" she asks, glancing between them and studying Yah again. "Cool patch," she says to him with a nod of her head.
Benito Benito sits down heavily, and with a bit of a clank due to the armor he's wearing beneath his duster. He nods at Franky. "You could say that," he says. "Business down in these parts is very good. Better than back in Haven." The whiskey he'd originally ordered for himself is tossed back in a gulp. "I crawled out of the wreck and nearly got taken by some of those Legion fuckers. Ran off and managed to land a few bounties here in town, plus a little other protection work for caravans on the side. First time I've been back here in a while." He observes Yahweh's new collection of coats with an arched brow. "What the hell have you two been doing?" When Fern arrives with the drinks, he nods gratefully to her and then stares when the youngster slugs down her own. "Impressive." The question about pirates only elicits a snicker from him.
Franky     Franky stiffels a yawn with a fist, turning to Benito to listen to his post wreck tale. Fern gets a nod as she brings drinks and questions about their occupation. "Airship pirates." Franky comments, taking the glass of booze Fern poured. "Looking for the next score." Fern gets a wink now, before he directs his attention back to Benito. "Let's see...I made some friends down new vegas, got abducted by aliens, and moved into an old liquor store in the mojave." His head points to Yah, "Caught up with Yah the other day."
Yah "Thanks kid," Yahweh's mouth twitches in a bare smile, as he reaches for the glass. "Cool shirt." He downs it, gently passing it back toward her. Settling back a bit in his seat, one hand settles atop a denim-clad thigh as he relaxes, "I got it pretty bad in that crash, got a few new scars for it." He grimaces, the corner of his eye crinkling, mouth twisting in a brief, ugly fashion. "Came to in a tribal community, lost sight of myself and wandered off into the other world for a time. Seen people that ain't been seen in a long time. By no one. I've got it under control." The last is added with another bitter frown, voice trailing as his good eye glazes softly. Several rapid blinks, toward the recently joined girl, "Anyway. Girl wants to hear anymore stories, she'll work for it. Keep the drinks coming and what's your name?"
Fern     "Hey now," Fern says, leaning in closer to the table then. "I ain't no girl you can talk to like that. Ya best watch yerself," Fern warns to Yah. "Name's Fern, and I got friends in all kinds of places, including here." She gives him her best evil eye, then pours another round, including one for herself. The bottle is sat down and she lifts her shot glass. "You seen people that've gone missing for a long time? That's crazy.. Where was it? Pretty far away, huh?" she asks Yah.
Benito "Better watch yourself, Wey. This kid's got - what do you gringos call it? Ah, yeah. Moxie," Benito drawls, his dark eyes flitting between the much larger man and the teenage girl. His tone is more companionable than dismissive, though, and he raises his glass and drains it once again when it's re-poured. Running a finger along his bearded jaw, he smirks, then listens to Franky. His brows shoot up at the mention of aliens in an expression that says he wants to know more, but then abruptly his gaze settles on a man who comes down the stairs and heads for the exit. Clearing his throat, Benito quickly stands and executes a surprisingly graceful bow, considering his attire. "Amigos - and Señora Fern - I've got to go chase down my next paycheck. I'll be back soon." Reaching into a pocket, he tosses a small pile of caps on the table for the drinks. With a grin, he strolls off, shadowing the unfortunate man who left a moment beforehand.
Franky     Franky was distracted by the art he carved into the table earlier. He picked at the groves with his nail of his thumb, maybe in an attempt to clean up the lines. He was extremely concentrated, evident by his tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth. "Hm?" Franky perks up, looking at Fern as she took offense to something Yah had said. Franky shrugs and remembers he has a drink still, he tosses a shot back, gritting his teeth at the taste. Franky waves to Benito as he departs, "Know anyone with an airship? Anyone not your Friends?" Franky asks of Fern, giving Yah a glance. "We're looking to resume our piracy."
Yah Yah lifts a hand in response to the girl's ire, palm toward her in a short, placative gesture. "Easy, easy kid. I get it, you're hot shit. You also want to hear everything about this fascinating new stranger, and that ain't gonna happen for free." he slugs back the next drink, a trifling look of distaste following shortly after, as a few fingers push the glass back toward the young woman. "Think I'm done riding those damned things for a while, Franky. That last one almost killed me, in more than one way. Get my ass a horse, maybe." One foot's rocking along below the table to some unheard song, and he settles back against the frame of his chair, looking positively relaxed. "Goddamn king of New York. Fuckin' airships."
Fern     "Mmm.." Fern looks over to Franky after Benito heads out, and to him she says, "Maybe. my best friend Ashur knows.. just about anyone with anything. Might be able to find you something to use," she says, "For a price, 'course." The girl takes her second shot, putting her glass down harder this time. She looks to Yah again, grinning slowly, grinning more. She's quiet for a bit before she murmurs, "I like you." Nod. Fern glances between the two. "Well, if it's a horse ya'll need, I can talk to Ashur about that, too. One'o his wives trains them. Could get you good one for reasonable price."
Franky     Franky screws up his face at the mention of riding around the wastes on horses. "I'd take fallout of the sky over chaffed loins anyday." Franky nods in agree with the fact he just brought up. "The guy who punches everything." Franky grins at Fern, "I remember him beating the shit out of talking lizards..." He pauses, snapping his fingers together to summon a memory. "When the aliens got me, made us fight in the arena...good times." Franky goes quiet now. "Maybe we should invest in a cargo van or one of them box trucks they used to sell frozen cream in?"
Yah Yahweh's hand rises and falls on his thigh once for emphasis, "Gotta work on your loins, Frank." Looking toward Fern, he nods, while two digits tap against the surface of the table. "'You're alright kid. One more." then his gaze tracks back to the other man, large pale eye blinking slowly, "Sounds like you've gotten a few good stories of your own since we saw each other last. You remember that ship we were on? Back then, back before all that Deadwater mess?" he pauses, shaking his head gently, "You remember that shitbag Iceman? You still got his gun?"
Fern     Fern is happy to pour another glass for Yah, and when that's done she scoops up the caps from the table that had been left by Benito. She takes them and the bottle of liquor back behind the bar again, putting the booze away and stashing the caps in the register.
Franky Franky thinks about Yahweh's comment, he looks down at his thighs. He shackes his head, "Horses are for eating, not for riding." He remembers he has cigarette still, taking one out and lefting the pack on the table for Yah. "Can't say where I left it, that gun broke on me when we were fighting that one broad..least that's how I remember it." Franky motions to the sword with an unlit match, "You looking for a gun when you get tired of stabbing people?" The match is struck and the end of his cigarette is glowing. "I have gome guns back in new vegas. You any good with energy weapons? Got a blaster that looks comlicated. Benito ever gets back we can head to New Vegas, throw some dice or some shit."