The Merchant

Feral ghouls. Lots of good ammo spent on fending them off.

Need mentats? Having… a sale.

Then you should… focus.

Rule of… the wasteland.

He couldn’t help but laugh, albeit a grating and hoarse one. It reminded him of… of… someone.

“I assumed. You enjoy those, okay?”

He offered it, the wet carapace coated in a layer of dust and sand.

“Do you need a bowl? Or will you eat it from… the box?”

+ With a ginger pinch of his claw, he picks up the box and turns to return to the child outside.

He nods, standing back to his full height and hobbling back into the ‘new’ shop. It’s a shack in the settlement, converted for his purposes. The Merchant never need anything fancy. He hadn’t since Ferris had…

Oh, Ferris. What had happened to him? It had been—. Oh, there was the box. +

My, what a long pause.

“That is good to hear…

Would you like a box of sugar bombs? Free and unopened.”

Oh, the little one.

He did his best to crouch down, trying to appear less… scary.

“Chemicals. Not for you… unless you’re hurt.”

Stims and Radaway. He was a businessman, not a chem dealer.

“I got… chems for sale.”

Discount… on summer clothes.

“It gets too cold… can’t stay awake in the cold.” It was embarrassing, the mutation reminding him and everyone else that he was no longer human.

“The baker… Cienn.

How are you? Been safe?”

“Happy…. Spring.”

“I am…. Awake.” Not to see how much of his stock was stolen during his nap.

He stirs.

The cold had him practically catatonic. Despite his best efforts to repair the ship, the cold snuck inside like a thief.

“It would not hold me even if I could. It is yours.” He insisted, motioning at the door. “I apologize for any mess.”

“There is a bunk in the back room… I no longer fit through the door, so I have not been able to make use of it.

It is yours.“ His words had a twinge of shame, embarrassment burning at his face.

As long as it kept out the cold, he didn’t care for the appearance. As she asked, he glanced over at her. He hadn’t lived around others for so long, would he even know what to do? Did it matter?

“That… that would nice. I would pay you and train you, if needed.”

He will leave them in their box there.

He is at the gate with the remaining winter coats he has.

“If you want.” He wouldn’t be foolish enough to decline help. As the cold blew in, he was running short on time to save himself from freezing.

“There are… nails and a hammer in that box,” he pointed. “I am closing any gaps in the wood.”

“No… come in. I am trying to prepare the boat for winter.” That involved patching a lot of holes. “You can search the trunk, take what you need.”

His eyes traced the scars but he said nothing. He was just relieved to see her alive.

The sign on the ship was hung in its usual spot, but this time it read CLOSED. Hammering could be heard inside and, as Tabitha entered, he would turn to face her. A spark of recognition flared.

“Oh… you’re back. How are you?”

Lotta noise coming from their camp, but it doesn’t sound like fighting.

Is he brave enough to check it out?

He’s safely in his own boat. Drama free.

Safe travels.

He has some for sale… but it is a walk.