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Franky     The caravan from El Dorado wasn't an easy one...Or maybe it was. Maybe it was just uneventful, what with the teamwork of the new york chilla's, it went like dreamwork. The Caravan pulled into New Vegas, dropping Yah and Franky close to Parkes Point. The ranch was in stone's throwing distance at this point.

    Lazy clouds of smoke plumes blew upward as Franky rounded the fence line close to the building that he called his home. He made train noises for a minute before a smile spread across his lips. "This is it." He pointed idlly at the mojave aged concrete building, Fission Liquor and Rentals still hung overhead.
Grover Grover is out and about in the big nothing...well, nothing is nothing..its always something. Though not something thats nothing, that hard to say. Groover is out doing what he does...yes, he's come this way to look for answers....but answers to what....thats the question, that needs an answer too.
Yah     "Huh." Yahweh observes the building, arms and hands tucked away in the folds of his layered robes. "Real uh," he pauses a moment, one-eyed gaze tracking across their immediate surroundings before it shifts back to the building, "Real nice. I mean. It's better than being dead in an airship wreck. Real nice." he nods a few times, before one arm shifts, lifting to indicate the other man's home. "You got any beer?"
Franky     Leaned back to admire his hard fought accomidations, yep living large out here in the mojave. At Yah's last comment he gives him a side glance, so he doesn't want to see how Franky is livin', but how's he partyin'? "Touche." Franky presses his cigarette to his lips and takes a long pull, he waves Yah to follow. He swaggers a little over to an sunbleached ice machine on the side of his convience store home. He fumbles with a nut and bolt on the latch before opening it wide. Inside is a good stach of label-less pre-war beers, he even has several milk jugs of clear liquid. The air inside is stale and luke warm, the machine having long died. "You got any drugs?"

    For those searching for answers, maybe some can be found at Parkes Point inside Franky's ice box filled with ambient temp drinks?
Grover Grover does make his way in to the point. Looking around, he doesn't see any cedar it must be a different point..."Now what do we have here...lets see..." as he looks at the buildings, "No, no..nice...but I doubt they would have hidden the entrance here...hmmm."
Yah Yah wanders in after the other man, following him with meandering, slow gait toward the booze-locker. "I've always got drugs man." he accepts one of the old beers, eyeing the milk jugs curiously. "You just want some dope?" He asks, opening the beer and then taking a pull from the bottle. "Got some calmex, probably some jet, maybe a few tabs in here." He has set his beer down while he speaks, beginning to draw off some of his outer layers, "Muggy in here Frank. Maybe bash some holes in the walls, get some air flowin', huh?"
Franky     Franky reaches down and takes his own beer, blow on the cap to remove any built up dust. He jams the bottle cap between and top and bottom molar, and does a lever-action to pop the top. He smiles and puts the lip to his nose and gives it a whif. "Vintage shit." Yah's get a nod before he takes a big swig. "What those tabs do?" Franky takes another big swig of his beer, "Mm, taste the favor!" He waves Yah to follow him out, "I'll find some fan or some shit, in due time."

    Franky takes alternating puffs and swigs from his beer, standing outside his home waiting for Yah to exit. "You get any radio sations on that pip-boy?"
Yah "Yeah, thanks Frank." Yahweh replies, taking another swig from his own once he's down to his plaid and jeans. "Eh, just mentats. Good if you need to study some shit for a while." he props himself against the former store's counter, unclasps the pipboy from around his wrist, and tosses it toward the other man, "Hell, I dunno. Take a look at it." he glances toward the door, as if expecting someone to appear, before shaking his head a bit. "You're welcome to anything I got on me, but I'm good for now. Need to cool it on that shit a while, been seeing things." He frowns, a hand rising to rub at his beard absently, "Speakin' of, something is coming, Frank. For you or someone close to you, got something to do with that Jackson cat. Spirits told me on vision wings." he shrugs, drinks a little more, "It was pretty trippy stuff."
Franky     Franky gulps down the rest of his beer, eyeing the up ended orifice as if it was holding out on him. He bent over and set the drink down, dropping his cigarette butt into the empty bottle. He stood up and returned to the ice box, catching the pip-boy in his travels. "Hmmm, yeah...I dunno, I wouldn't mind some of that tribal stuff you used to get in Deadwater, I kinda want to see colors." He stands in front of the ice box, fumbling with the pip-boy, after a moment he selects some random Mojave radio station. He grabs a beer, then moves to sets the pipboy close to Yah at the counter. "I was.." He lets out a beltch, "Shooting ghouls here, bunch of people are interested in Jackson." A grin forms on his face, he strolls out of his house and back outside. One-handed fumbling with his M60, getting it steady between his flank and right bicep, muzzled leveled at an arch. He depresses the trigger, letting a lengthy burst disturb the ranch. He waits for several seconds, "Hey guys!" Pressing the bottle to his lips for a swig, "I've got people over...playing some music too! Come over!"
Aris Off to the east, from around that lake, a dark haired woman on horseback approaches the little cluster of buildings someone had the funny idea of calling a settlement. A brown Stetson's tipped down to shield her eyes from the sun as she rides down the middle of the path at a slow gait. She has the look of someone looking for someone, not to mention the look of someone you wouldn't want looking for you.

Suddenly there's a burst of gunfire, and the woman's Paint horse startles. Dark eyes settle on the pair of men loitering outside that busted old convenience store. "Hola, loco!" she calls across the way. "Either of ya seen Jackson 'round?"
Yah Yahweh busies himself procuring and opening another beer, before joining his friend on the porch. "That was good stuff in Deadwater." he remarks, nodding a few times and leaning sidelong against a porch post, apparently none too bothered about the other man going all Apocalypse Now. "Yeah well, trouble comes for you, we'll handle it the same as we always do, I suppose." His wandering gaze catches on the woman atop the horse, brows furrowing in an inquisitive fashion. "No, but we got a chest full of beer for pretty ladies." he glances aside to Franky, then winks at the man. Or maybe he just blinked, it's hard to tell. "Also, Jackson'll probably show up soon after that." he calls out again toward the woman.
Fern     Soon enough there comes Fern, the girl running off down the road and looking like she could use a horse, too.. But naw. She's got a good pair of boots and some good stamina. She really can run! She holds en envelope in her right hand while the left is tugging at the left hip of her pants, trying to tug them up a little more as she goes. Fern's looking here and there on her run down the street, eyes peering from beneath messy locks that are tossed about, and she pauses here and there to ask people if they've seen someone specific.
Esscast esscast walks threw the area as he walks whistleing a ol turn as he walks to the old porch post 'gory gory what a hell of a way to die' was the name of the turn
Aris In the meantime, the dark haired woman has ridden up to the storefront, close enough to facilitate a conversation without shouting. "¿Oh si?" she muses, glancing at the man in the Mexican poncho who shot the gun before her gaze settles on the one-eyed man. "An' I have a gun full of bullets for men who don't keep their eyes ta themselves." She half-grins. "Or eye, n'your case." Despite her words, she slides down off her horse and ties him to a broken bench near the storefront. "But I'll wait for Jackson."
Franky     Franky looks out at the rider after she calls out something about Jackson. Yah isn't far behind with a response for her, he cocks a brow at the mention of beer. Aris gets a nod as he rides closer and dismounts, "Jackson likes the whiskey, sure way to coax him out." He throws his head over towards the ice box in where the drinks are at.

    Esscast startles Franky, walking around whistling, "Jesus, your a big feller." He manuvers his lmg, letting it hang around his body via sling. He stares out at the horizon and the slow creeping evening intruding on the afternoon. "We should have a bon fire.....and food, and louder music."
Fern     Jackson? Like a bat finding a bug to snack on, Fern perks up and swivels her head in the direction of those gathered and talking when she hears that name. She isn't far off now, so she slows her jog to a stop a few paces away. The envelope gets slipped into her back pocket and she lifts her hands, now free to fix her hair back into a low ponytail. As she starts heading towards those gathered she squints with a 'you look familiar' gaze offered to some.
Yah "Damn Frank," Yahweh spits out the side of his mouth, eyeing the big whistling mother, "You're more popular than I'd've ever given you credit toward." As Esscast doesn't seem immediately violent, he refocuses his attention on the woman, watching her tie the horse up. "Both of them, actually, show you sometime." He taps the rim of his bottle gently against the studded patch covering his ruined eye, then shuffles down a step or two to extend the beer toward her, "Just opened and all, one deliciously muggy, two hundred year old beer. I'll grab another." It's then that the young girl's arrival gets his attention, "Hey, damn kid, you get around."
Aris Readjusting the rifle on her back, the dark haired woman follows Franky's gaze over toward that box. "Some sorta fiesta goin' on, or you fellas just like to drink and waste bullets?" When the man with the eyepatch offers her his beer, her lips press together, the conflict between her inherent distrust and her inherent desire to drink evident in her expression. "You grab -me- another, and I'll hang around a bit, cabrón." But then he's talking to that kid behind her, and the dark haired woman chuckles. "Anda, chamaca! These guys are up to no good."
Franky     Franky scanned the ranch from the area infront of his house. He was pretty sure Jackson had wood left over from his garage renovations. He eye's the barn, "Hmmm?" He mumbles, turning around and surprizes there a Fern. "Come to join the pirates?" Franky makes a stupid smile. "Just showing my old friend her my mojave home." He waves a beer clad hand at his posh convinence store digs. "What'cha looking for with Jackson?" Franky attempts question Aris, lifting his beer for another warm swig.
Fern     "Yeah," Fern pants, but not too bad. "Why you.. think the man hired.. me? I'm a pretty fast.. runner," Fern says as she then rests her hands atop her head. You know. Open the lungs and take in more air. All that stuff. As she works on calming her breathing Fern glances around at those gathered, looking at the men.. the woman.. the beer. That gets the longest glance, but she's working! Fern has a job to do!

    "Yeah, they look like it. No good can be fun, though. It ain't fun to always be on your best behavior. Besides, pirates are cool," she says with an impish grin. "Oy, Jackson? Any of you him? I got a letter for him," she says as she tugs the envelope from her pocket to wave it about. Yeah, seems like everyone's after him today!
Yah Yahweh's attention shifts between the two, the young messenger getting a quick nod, "Hang on, betcha he'll be coming around real soon. Meantime, I'll grab ya a beer." Aris gets a quick smile before he turns, "Lady, we're not trouble. We're pirates." He stomps back up the porch, swigging freely from the bottle and disappears momentarily inside. On his way back past Franky he pauses, a brief, apologetic grin sprouting, "We'll go raid a brewery or something, I'll help you stock up again."
Aris "Just keep an eye on folks ya don't know," the dark haired woman muses at Fern, coming up onto the porch and settling onto one of the rails. She jabs a thumb towards the man with the eye patch who's disappeared into the store briefly. "Or two eyes, even." At the man with the poncho's question, the woman rolls her shoulder a bit. "Need to talk to him about some Enclave shit that went down 'bout a week ago."
Franky     Franky takes another pull of his drink, eyeing the letter in Fern's hand getting waved about. He looks back behind him at the big ranch house and short jog away. "Could slide it under his door?" He turns and gives the girl a shrug, Aris gets a lood when she mentions Enclave. He moves to flip over an old plastic crate, turning and dropping his butt onto it. He sighs, setting his beer down and pulling out a cigarette from under the folds of his poncho. "I suppose it's hostly to offer refreshments." Franky replies to Yah, striking a match and putting flame to the end of his smoke.
Yah Yah returns back outside with a few more beers, another pair for Franky and himself as well as the others. The beers get deposited, Fern's left on an upturned bucket, Franky's near him, and then he reaches Aris, "Here we are, one fresh, untampered-with beer." He grins widely as he offers the bottle, "Going to an awful lot of trouble here for a woman I don't even know the name of." he hints, before swigging from his own, open bottle, his pale blue eye regarding the woman openly.
Fern     "That's his? Alright." Fern looks off to the house and then to those near her. "Thanks!" She grins and turns, setting out to jog over to the house. She glances around once there, knocks on the door, then slips the letter under. She'll wait around a little just to make sure the right guy gets it before she's off, running again.
Aris The nameless woman reaches for the beer, bringing it close to her face in the fading sunlight to inspect just how 'untampered-with' it is. "Gracias. Te dejaré traerme cervezas toda la noche," she muses at him, using her belt buckle to pop the cap off. She takes a long drink and watches Fern run off across the street before offering, "Aris." Her gaze comes back to the pair of 'pirates'. "You got names or just beer?"
Franky     With his legs pushed out infront of himself, Franky rubs his thighs in a massaging manner. Taking the beer resupply he sets it aside, working on taking big gulps of his current one. He offers Fern a wave as she jogs off, he shrugs and takes a long pull of his cigarette. His eye's shift to the rapidly crimsoning horizon. A sigh as he stands, strolling off behind his store/home. Various curses and the sound of crashes of boards can be herd shortly after.
Yah "Where I'm from," Yahweh mentions, shifting a bit to try to put himself beside the woman so that he can watch his friend slip around the side of the building, "They don't speak much Spanish. That's pretty though. Neat trick with that cap too." He lifts his beer to his lips, gulping back a bit more before lowering it with a content sigh, "That's Franky, I'm his long lost best friend Yahweh. Funny name, I know, and no, I don't get it." his head jerks in the general direction of the noise soon heard, "Franky!" He hollers, apparently in no hurry to go check, "Y'alright?"
Aris "Yeah? They don't speak much Spanish where I'm from neither," Aris says around the rim of that bottle, taking another long drink. It's half gone already. She watches the man apparently named Franky disappear, assuming he's gone to start that bonfire he'd mentioned. The loud sounds he's making elicit a little chuckle, but she doesn't move to help. "'Long lost best friend Yahweh'," she repeats, looking him over a bit. "Ya don't look so long lost to me."
Franky     It took some effort but Franky had discovered wood, he gritted his teeth, mainly at the sight of the all the spider weds that covered the pallets of wood. He reached out and pushed the board off the wall, it clacked to the ground, none the lesser full of cobwebs. "Fuck it..." Franky mumbled, he bend over, grabbed the pallet and drug it off towards the the empty lot infront of his store. He dropped it a far enough away that smoke wouldn't creep into his flat.

    Content with the placement Franky disappeared to replenish at the ice box, a smile on his face as he walked back the front porch.
Yah Yah issues a swift, wolfish grin as he watches his friend round the corner dragging the wooden pallet, "Where's that?" he asks plainly, of the woman beside him. He lifts his beer to him before taking another drink and shifting a bit to regard Aris with his good eye, watching her look him over, "You got a keen eye on ya. What do I look like?" his free hand reaches to tug at the collar of his plaid button-up, then scratches along his neck before falling back along his side.
Aris Yahweh's question earns him a wicked glance, all mystery and mirth. "Texas," she offers vaguely. But then Franky's coming around the corner with a giant square of wood. "Cuidado, pirata!" Aris laughs as he tosses the old pallet into the vacant lot. When he abandons it to retrieve more booze, she offers Yah an appraising glance before hopping down off the porch and heading towards the pallet. Fishing a lighter out of her pocket, she calls back at him, "Trouble, that's what."
Franky     The thud of the ice machine door closing preceeds Franky, exiting into the failing light of the mojave. He craddles a milk jug with some watery looking substance more than half full. The smile is gone, he's close to the pallet now, jug in hands. Someone too the effort to label the jug 'sacred fluids'. Frank uncaps the jug, raising it skyward with both arms, then dropping it to his lips for a short pull. He shakes his head, then lets out a burning gasp. A clear of his throat, then he extends the jug and pours a length of the liquid on the pallet. He looks around, hoping someone nearby had a lighter.
Yah "Keen eye." Yahweh repeats to no one in particular, and makes no immediate move to join the woman, content to watch her go. He crosses his arms across his chest, beer held loosely in a few fingers below the opposite elbow, while he leans against the porch. "Shiiiit, that looks like trouble right there." he muses quietly to himself, before giving his head a gentle shake and emerging from the porchspace to join the others near the imminent fire. "Franky, while we're setting shit on fire, you got a smoke?"
Aris Ask and you shall receive, Frank. Or, you know, just look around and wait. "Aqui," Aristide murmurs, tossing Frank a tarnished lighter with a blue and white star on it. Of course, now that he's got the fire starter, Aris takes a half dozen steps back from the dripping pallet. She's shaking her head but grinning at the same time. "Gonna get burned if I spend much time with you two, I can feel it," she muses back at Yah as she hears him approach.
Franky     Franky turns to look at Aris, then attempts a wierd one hander-catcher. He flips the ligther in his fingers, examining it and noting the emblem. He holds the jug in one hand, blading his body then extends his other hand with the ligher. He flicks it open, then spins the steel wheel to produce flame. The flame catches the 'sacred vapors', and is clentched in accelerate flames. Franky qucikly shuffers away toward the other, the grin has returned. He turns to look at the others, offering the lighter to one and the jug to the other. "Drink the sacred fluids. It's ritual now."
Yah "Occupational hazard. Besides, who said you're gonna be spending much time with us?" a toothy grin tears across Yahweh's features, "Sky pirates like us got pretty high standards." He comes up alongside the woman, at a companionable distance. Then, accepting the jug from Franky, he takes a short swig, chasing it with a brief, audible hiss and clenched teeth. Wordlessly, he offers the jug sidelong to Aris, rolling his shoulders in a careless little shrug.
Aris Laughing at the spectacle Frank makes of almost setting his hand on fire, Aris takes her lighter back with a shake of her head. Her dark hair shifts on her shoulders, looking more red than black in the firelight. She turns her face to Yahweh when he offers the jug of... whatever type of accelerant that is. "You're right. Spent too much time with you already," she replies evenly, but takes that jug from his grasp and downs a long swig of it. She wrinkles her nose but that's about it, passing the jug back to Frank. "The 'fuck's a sky pirate?" she frowns.
Franky There's this weird sort of passing of items, Yah passed the jug, Franky passes Yah a cigarette, and Aris passes Franky the jug. It's an old triangle, it echos in ritual, blazing wooden pallet casting shadows as darkness as since arrived. "We're inbetween airships..or so the joke goes." Franky attempts to answer Aris's question. He moves, breaking the triangle to form a line, staring into the flames the pallet wood was giving off. In silence he took another swig of the fluids, a hiss can be heard between his teeth.
Yah "We ran an outfit back east, had an airship. Downed it somewhere... somewhere in Texas, by my reckoning." Yahweh finishes his beer, tossing the empty bottle near the burning pallet. He eyes it in contemplative silence for a moment or two, then gives his head another toss, as if to clear it. "You look like you know how to handle yourself Aris, and you're not bad on the eye - judgment's out on the other still - so you can hang out with us as long as you like." he chuckles dryly, "Plus you're the only one with a lighter."
Aris "Airship?" Aris asks Frank, putting two and two together. She looks at once skeptical and curious as she glances between the men. "If your airship's in Texas, why you here, cabron?" she directs at Yah. But then he's offering those compliments of sorts, and her pretty smile is punctuated by the combat knife shining in firelight at her hip. "Just 'til Jackson come around, or you run outta cerveza."
Franky     Franky bends over to place the jug of juice on th deck. He needs both hands to light up a fresh cigarette, "Kaputz." Is all Fraky can say, mid-light of his smoke. An inhale. A plume of smoke. "Looking for trigger time, Aris?" Franky sorta thinks aloud. "Could use a hitter, in the future, good caps."
Yah Yahweh's eye roams over the woman for a moment, brows lifting a bit as he notes the knife, then it drifts back upward to her face, "Cause our airship's in about a thousand little pieces. Most of our people too, I would imagine." He blinks, then chuckles again, "Actually... no. We're not snakes anymore, they're on their own. They're fine." he finishes cryptically, a brief, panicked look shadowing his features before he visibly schools them into complacency. He looks over toward Franky as he speaks, nodding mutely a few times while he busies himself lighting his cigarette, waiting for the woman's answer.
Aris At Franky's question, Aris shrugs her shoulders noncommitally, though she's grinning into that fire. "Been trying to be good lately," she muses, finishing her beer in one swig and tossing the bottle into the bonfire with Frank's. She hooks her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans, a white star tattoo gleaming dully on her wrist. Gray eyes slide to Yahweh at those words, noting the look between the men. "Ain't sure you're my kind of crazy yet," she finally says.
Franky     Franky blinks at Yah for a while as he goes on about snakes, and the details of their airship. He looks toward the fire lost in the dance of warm color. "Why be good..When you can be free, with your head held high." he states, cigarette to his lips. Smoke plume. Franky's eyes seem a hair glassier than before...The fluids must be working.
Yah "I think we made a new friend." Yahweh comments idly, taking a thoughtful drag off his cigarette, before dragging his tongue along his teeth and spitting toward the fire. "It makes you feel any better darling, of the two of us, Franky's the crazy one." Another drag, and he taps a finger against his studded eye patch, his good eye taking on a slightly glossy sheen, "'Sides, I know you're just achin' to see me take this off. Nothing wrong that, curiosity gets 'em every time." The corners of his mouth twitch, betraying his own slightly inebriated amusement.
Aris Aris laughs, light and lilting, at Frank's words. "I'm free enough, and ain't got shot lately, either. It's great," she muses, reaching to slip Yah's cigarette out of his hand and holds it between her lips, sucking in a long drag. "Te dire que, Yahweh," she says on the exhale. "You two ever come up to El Dorado, I'll let you buy me a beer." That wasn't exactly a hard 'no' on the being a third gun offer.
Franky     A quizical glance is shot Yah's way, he see's the mans finger tapping the eyepatch. He shrugs, taking another log drag. "It's a date." A grin spreads, he looks between the two, then flicks his cigarette into the rapidly spent pallet. The vital fluids are wielded once more, royal sips are taken. Sacred buzzes are attained!
Yah "Jesus Franky, keep a hand on your purse around this one. Also, don't worry, I'm not gonna show her. I know it makes you uncomfortable." Yahweh states as his cigarette is snagged, hands slipping into the pockets of his denim jeans, head turning to regard the fire fully. "Fire's thirsty too." he adds, taking a half step back and grinning momentarily at his friend. Then, looking back to the woman, he nods once to her, chin rising and falling definitely. "Seems Jackson won't be roused, you're gonna have to head over to his place to deliver that message. Do me a favor, head out while there's light enough for me to watch you go by?"
Aris The pallet charred black and the fire rapidly dying, Aris's grin at Franky's words is just barely visible in the red light. She offers him a little nod in agreement, then her gaze settles on Yah, considering his words and maybe sizing him up a little. She smiles at him. "Talk all you want, pirata. One of these days, ya might be picking yer teeth up out of the dirt, though." She stalks off toward her Paint horse, that cigarette apparently coming with her, perched between her lips and all. "I stay at the saloon in El Dorado. The one with whores upstairs," she says as she mounts up, heading towards Jackson's place.
Franky     Franky acknowledges the thirst fire, but cares not to do a thing about it. After all its not like he wants to grab another spider-infested pallet. Spiders are dangerous enough in the day time. Franky waves at the back of the departing Aris, "Stay deadly.." Franky mumbles, his eye's dancing in the curling red coals of the dying fire.
Yah Yah watches the woman go in the dim light, nodding appreciatively, "That one's feisty." he comments to his friend, "Think I like her." he gestures toward the building, "C'mon, tell me you got a lantern or some shit in there?" he asks, meandering back toward the porch and the entrance to the building.