abstracts | Alternative Methods.

Radscorpian to the arm, huh. My, what nostalgia. When Arcade (that do-gooder) takes the older man aside to resolve his unfortunate issue, Neil Park shakes his pack free from his back. He reaches in, rummaging through the contents with a bored look on his face.

"At least the bleeding's mostly stopped," he comments, producing a bottle of purified water and a bottle of vodka. "Too bad it's infected."

The treatment progresses as one would expect: Neil fixes the immediate problems, and the guy puts up a hell of a fuss at the disinfecting. It's cute. It's endearing. It helps the Lone Wanderer forget for a moment that he's on a quest for sex ed. That he is doing all of this nonsense for Alex Seattle Geer.

The younger man--his gash cleaned, tapped, and bandaged--whimpers at the remaining pain, and Neil proceeds to distract the guy with a simple tip. "Armor-piercing bullets next time," he says. "And stay as far away from them as possible. If one starts to skitter towards you, cripple their legs and run like hell. They'll eventually lose interest."

While Neil offers his life advice, Arcade is finishing up with the man. Despite his thoughts that it might not be salvageable, the hanging flesh is still alive and not gangrenous. With that found out, it's relatively simple--the hardest part lining it back up to stitch. "Because you wouldn't want a crooked calf," Arcade explains.

The man, previously calm, seems to be developing a case of the nerves.

Arcade is finishing bandaging, using a stronger adhesive to keep the skin from shifting when he becomes aware of someone's gaze. Richards, apparently done, is enjoying himself by leaning against the center tent post, watching Arcade work. "A voyeur, Doctor Richards?"

The man surprises him by laughing. "If you're open to exhibitionism...?"

Arcade finishes; the man thanks him and goes to look for his friend. "Gannon. Doctor Arcade Gannon. And this is Neil Park."

"Gannon," Richards muses. "I've heard of you."

Joy, Arcade thinks again.

It's here that the poor guy's friend, also prepped for mending, swings by to pick him up. Neil simply waves off their thanks, opting to head toward Arcade and Richards. It looks like they're already acquainted with each other, with the latter mentioning that he's heard of Arcade.

Neil gives his friend a look, one that basically says, You're freaking famous around here.

Neil doesn't speak up, so Arcade continues to respond. "Hopefully for something other than my dashing good looks," he replies dryly.

"Well, there is that, sugar," Richards gives easily. "But also for your support work with the Followers. During the Battle, word on the vine said you stayed elbow deep for seventy-two hours."

Arcade--Arcade Israel Gannon--looks positively embarrassed. "It wasn't anything more than anyone else--"

"And," Richards interrupts. "When a small Legion contingent attacked the main medcamp, a solitary man in glasses calmly took out a plasma pistol and shot them all dead before returning to sewing up a man's gut." The smug pleased expression is one reminiscent to another Alex. "You wouldn't happen to know that doctor, would you? I'd love to pay my respects to such a man."

...Blushing, Arcade makes a disgusted noise and glances away.

~~Heeeeeeelp.~~

Oh. Oh. Forget acquainted. This guy's got some damn good dirt on Arcade. By dirt, of course, he means heroics. Stories. Neil Park fucking loves stories.

Intrigued, he cants his head to the side and waits, a smile of anticipation tugging at the corner of his lips.

Oh. Oh. He sees how it is, Neil Park. Arcade throws Neil a dirty look before trying to enter the conversation again.

Except when he looks back, Richards is watching him blush with a satisfied expression. My god, Arcade is thirty-seven, why is this man making him feel like he's twenty? He inhales, and attempts words. Smart words. Impressive words. "You've done more work here than I have elsewhere if we're comparing. Alex says that you're the solitary reason most of Novac isn't dead."

And with that, like many people they've spoken with this week, Richards lights up. Unlike Rivas, Richards' reaction is pure joy without any interest. "Alex? He of the white-hair and eyes that would make you melt?"

Arcade blinks, attempting to dispose of that imagery quickly. "Courier Six, the white-haired courier: Hero of Hoover Dam and Messiah of the Mojave, yes. All of his fun little titles." Arcade is sure there is more.

Richards is already nodding however. "So the other rumor is true as well. You're part of the Lucky 38 group."

Arcade shifts, mildly uncomfortable. "Possibly. I didn't fight at the Dam--"

"No," Richards says smoothly. "You were out doing something better. Saving the lives that needed help."

And Arcade stares. Again.

...Oh. Very well acquainted, it seems, and as the pair of them discuss Alex, the Dam, and the Lucky 38 crew, Neil's smile slowly fades into something of melancholy. He listens to these men speak matters that directly influence people's lives and livelihood, and again, he wonders why he's here. Here, in the Mojave, where something real was and still is at stake.

Not a stupid quest for purified water. Not angsting over a dad and a home he should have given up years prior. Neil wonders if he might have made a mistake. Wonders if he should just pack up his stuff and leave the region before he ruins the potential that it's trying to build.

He continues to listen, nevertheless. The young man tries to remember he lacks any real influence to cause good or harm and stories are stories in the end. When Arcade looks like he's at a loss for words, Neil finally interjects.

"Some of the Followers said they'd been sunk without you," he says roughly. "Especially after the Dam."

...And Neil comes in at the clutch--to assist Doctor Richards. Arcade stares at Neil now, noting the strange tone as well as the claim. Before he has a chance to speak, however, Richards finally shifts his attention. He smiles at Neil. "See, Doctor Gannon? Your friend agrees with me. Neil, was it?"

"Neil," Arcade agrees miserably.

"I think I've seen you around here, actually," Richards says, a hand to his chin. "Do you live in Novac?"

"He more lives with Alex," Arcade mutters.

Richards raises his eyebrows.

Oh, god. It starts. Neil has the decency to be embarrassed at the question and the comment both. "Think I have, too. Nice to finally meet you," he begins awkwardly. "And yeah. I've been rooming with him." So to speak.

...Oh. No. Just no. Arcade did not follow Neil around for a week for the man to play shy now. "By rooming he means they're dating."

"Dating?" Richards again looks strangely pleased. "It would be good for Alex to settle down."

...Arcade finds that he agrees. "It looks like they'll be heading that way. They've been together for a while now." He has no idea-- "A year or so?" he asks toward Neil.

Edited 2017-06-04 04:36 (UTC)

Neil turns red at the prospect of Alex settling down. It doesn't help that he already feels out of place in this conversation. He stares at Arcade, dark eyes wide and full of why.

Finally, he nods. "Just over a year. Though, the dating only pertains to the last month or so," he clarifies.

The thick blush on Neil feeds the troll inside of Arcade. Enough for him to forget that just a moment ago, Richards was torturing him. Instead he becomes Arcade's newest friend. "They've been together a year," he corrects in a stage-whisper. "Alex Seattle Geer even accompanied him all the way east to Washington DC."

Here, Richards looks actually impressed. "You two went that far east?"

"Neil's from there," Arcade gives easily.

Richards is quiet a moment. "That's a long way from home," he finally states. "I bet there's a lot that's trailing behind you."

Shit, shit, shit. Arcade has to just go and up the fucking ante. Neil would be seething if this was anyone else. Instead, he simply gives it up, especially at Richards' response.

That's a long way from home. Except that place probably wasn't home to begin with.

"As much as anyone," answers Neil. "I just had to take care of some things, and Alex was crazy enough to come along for the ride." The wild, wild ride.

Richards chuckles, giving a nod. "That boy is certainly crazy enough for that. His history tells that much. I have a question, Neil."

Arcade glances between them. It's rather sudden.

"This is just between us, all right? Novac's been wanting to do something for a while, and while you're here, I thought to ask you. What's Alex's birthdate?"

Arcade exhales a short laugh. "Seriously?"

Richards almost scoffs. "That boy belonged to this town before he was a bigshot. They're quiet about it, but they're proud of him."

That "boy" is crazy, yes. Neil's rather glad that they can agree.

The question, however, throws him for a loop. Not the detail regarding Novac's appreciation; that he can understand.

No, his problem is-- "So this is really, really dumb of me," he begins carefully, "but I actually don't know when his birthday is."

Neil isn't the only one. Arcade shrugs at the response, talking to Richards. "He isn't registered either. He's from California, he says, but he's not an NCR citizen. He might have been born elsewhere. But no paper trail... no official birthdate."

"Nosy, aren't you?" Richards asks of Arcade.

...The man in glasses makes another disgruntled sound.

Indeed, Alex Seattle Geer is not citizen of NCR. In the bowels of Vault 7, running high on truth and love, he had confessed to Neil that he was from the Four Corners. That anything else is questionable at best due to his lack of memory. Neil, however, does not know if this is data to give so easily away, even to friends.

"I know he's from another commonwealth," he ventures. "So not surprised by the lack of paper trail."

Here Arcade looks to Neil with pointed interest. "You've been holding out," he accuses.

Richards has no time for this. "Find out his birthday," he orders. "So this town can do something rightfully embarrassing for him."

Neil smiles blandly at Arcade before he regards Richards. "You got it," he says almost brightly. "He won't ever see it coming."

After all, Alex deserves the embarrassment, the blatant appreciation from folks who know him. He needs to understand that there was more to his actions in the year before than the blood across the sand.

Richards smiles at Neil briefly. "You let me know."

Arcade thinks to sigh. Richards has other ideas. "I'm sure you boys had another reasons for coming here other than helping my patients and planning surprises. What can I help you with?"

Oh, fuck. That's right. Neil, against his will, again turns a nice shade of crimson. "Shit. Right. I'll, uh, try to keep this short," he qualifies. "To sum it up, I need to know...alternatives to...anal. I know how ridiculous this sounds, but this is my first relationship, and I really don't want to fuck it up."

The admission rings as painful, and Neil swallows to keep his expression even. "Alex suggested I ask someone and gave me a list of sources. As you can probably guess, he named you as one of them."

Short, sweet, and incredibly retarded to hear again. Neil is so damn thankful this is the last guy.

Edited 2017-06-04 05:53 (UTC)

Oh, wow. Neil jumps right in. Arcade gives him credit.

Though Alex Richards has another reaction, one different from those who were asked before.

That is to say, he bursts out laughing, covering his mouth and chortling.

...Well. That crimson's turning a bit purple from sheer embarrassment. Neil flattens his lips and says nothing, trying very hard not to veer toward one emotional extreme or the other. Let this guy have his laugh or whatever.

Richards sobers in a moment, waving his hand. "Don't be offended. I've just never met someone so genuinely truthful in their wants before. Don't think I've ever seen anyone that earnest. Especially," he adds. "As it's about bettering a relationship with another person."

...Smile, smile.

Geez, do all guys named Alex have the exact same smile? Neil sighs, pretending the act has nothing to do with relief. "I ain't offended," he mutters. "I'm the one asking you for a favor, after all." Requesting directions on how to better his relationship, yup.

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