Joanna LaQuinn

— She sounded tired, listless.
“Fifteen years of trying to do it and what’s it gotten me so far?”

— matching the offbeat rhythm of her window’s loose shutter thunk-thu-thunking in the wind.
All that time, Joanna kept her gaze averted to a dark part of the room, as if something waited there unseen and silent.
“I have something I have to do, well…Need to do. I don’t really know anymore.”
—

Lorelei had that way about her, that way that let her sneak past others’ guardrails. Before you knew it, you were spilling your guts to her and those gentle nudges.
“No, you’re not wrong, it’s…”
She paused, lips twisting into a frustrated grimace.
Her raw knuckles rapped against the table, —

“When I first settled in to Haven Lake, I slept outside and on the border. Been doing that for fifteen years, hard to break the habit of listening for the twig snap in the dark.”

“Things’ve been quiet, quiet enough that I’m bored. Some would say that’s a good thing, I s’pose.”

“I’ve taken in one bounty out of fifteen alive, so odds are pretty slim.”

“See, a warrant requires a judge, at least in the NCR. I don’t think we got one of those.”

“It’ll be a good life lesson for ‘im. Never trust anyone with a badge.”

“I’ve been known to make exceptions from time to time.”

“I mean, one of the settler’s kids made me a badge out of an old tin can once. Wore that for about a week.”

“Naw, I just know if I demand a gold star, no one will try to give one to me.”

“It’s gold or nothin’.”

“I never really thought I’d be ‘the law’ anywhere ever in my life. Still, if you try to put a tin badge on me I’ll punch you straight in the jaw.”

“I think I can only work and thrive under pressure. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it weren’t there.”

“I ain’t saying shit.”

“Most noble thing I’ve ever done? I…I don’t know. I haven’t done much just for the sake of being called ‘noble.’ You just…Do things, and everyone else gets to decide if what you did was right.”

“Good or bad is subjective. I’d like to think I’m a good person who’s done bad things. That make me a bad person? Leave that shit to the philosophizers.”

“Ain’t been much of a lover, never really had the chance. So, yeah. Fighter.”

“Isn’t a ‘movie’ one of those old world picture show things? Can’t say I’ve seen one.”

“Legion. You even think the word ‘profligate’ and the last thing going through the pink pile o’shit you call your brain will be a couple of 45-70 rounds.”

“Playin’ cards is a favorite. Trick shooting and anything involving gunpowder and shell casings I tend to take an interest in.”

“…Human? Th’ fuck else am I supposed to be? Gecko?”

“Don’t much care who or what you are as long as you got a nice face and ain’t a total bastard.”

“She-slash-her.”

“Born in New Vegas, actually. Lucky enough to have a doc nearby to help my ma through labor. Apparently I was a fighter.”

“Joanna Marie LaQuinn’s the full name, about as much a mouthful as a whole can of Cram.”

// Absolutely stolen.

“Who’s the new fella?”

The night was as cold as death.
Her shifts on watchtower duty always seemed to be icy, but tonight the wind bit through her coat like Deathclaw’s teeth.

Still, the stars kept her company as usual. Her old pal Orion fiddled with his belt, Canis Major kept his watch, and Cassiopeia sat on her throne.

“Show’s over. No encore. Take your bows and draw the curtains.”