the story in which Alex Seattle Geer is right for hating enclosed spaces,

[doubletap]

and Neil Park is blamed for his knowledge of vaults.

---

Terminal Entries:

1st Floor, Vault Entry-Room Computer:
- Data Entry 1: Year 20XX, Month XX; There's no escape.
- Holotape Entry 1: Y#4@ SDhig^8705 H98 [data corrupted]; This is hell and I want out of it.

1st Floor, Cafeteria Luncheon:
- Holotape Entry 2: Private Recording; I've had better?

1st Floor, Cafeteria Supply Room:
- Inventory List: Inventory List; A list of food....
- Data Entry 2: Shift Notes; Maybe I should tear the walls down.

1st Floor, Broken Cave:
- Data Entry 3: Preparations; Everything's fine.
- Data Entry 4: Near the End; I'll tell you the truth, but I won't give up my soul.
- Data Entry 5: Finally, the End is at Hand.; This is far enough.

1st Floor, Office:
- Data Entry 6: Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement; Get back to work everyone.
- Data Entry 7: Locked Administrative Reply; You're reaching for straws.

1st Floor, Administrative Secretary's Office:
- Data Entry 8: Drama Hoes; It is sort of funny that people aren't able to lie, though.
- Holotape Entry 3: Bill Self-Log; Byron's access still works everywhere.

Comments

[goodfight]

[The response is worth mulling over. Neil crosses his arms over his chest.]

...You're a pretty nice guy, did you know that?

[doubletap]

[ Expression goes straight to nope.

Reaches to slap Neil's ass as punishment. ]

[goodfight]

[The guy hops about a foot off the ground from the slap, before pausing from his pain long enough to growl at the other.]

Fuck you, that actually hurt!

[doubletap]

[ Raises an eyebrow. ]

Guess I'm not such a nice guy, then, amirite?

[goodfight]

[Rubbing at his rump and muttering about Alex and his hypersensitivity to karma, Neil settles for glaring at the other man.

His mind settles for the previous unfinished subject.]

I'm pretty sure half of these men are going to attack me for even hinting at their 'preference'.

[doubletap]

[ Alex reaches to gently touch where he struck, leaning to kiss Neil's temple. An apology unsaid. And that's all you're getting.

He pulls back and points at a name. ]

Nah, that one's a prostitute, so he'll be fine at least.

[goodfight]

[An unsaid apology is still an apology. The harshness in Neil's gaze softens, long enough to note the name.]

Am I asking him for a lecture or a demonstration?

[Because he's sure the prostitute will try for the latter. After all, it would be a sale for him.]

[doubletap]

[ The hand on Neil's ass moves to pinch instead. ]

I had better not hear of you asking for demonstrations, Mr. Park.

[goodfight]

[Furiously slapping that hand away.]

Yeah? What if I bring another guy and pay to watch?

[He has to thoroughly understand the parameters of his objective.]

[doubletap]

[ Allows himself to be batted away.

Because he's busy cornering Neil against one of the (well-used) desks. And staring. Very Much Staring. ]

Am I not enough to occupy you now?

[goodfight]

[Before he knows it, Neil's standing against a very familiar desk. There is also staring. Very much staring at the desk.]

Oh, you occupy me enough. Sometimes more than enough.

[As demonstrated by their surroundings. His loose tongue perhaps offers more than is wanted, but as certified by Vault 7, it is the truth.]

I'm not going to ask for a demonstration, Alex. I just like to know where the lines are.

[doubletap]

Good.

[ And for once, he doesn't seal the dispute with a kiss. He stares a moment longer, then backs off.

Lines, huh. He's crossing a few himself. ]

[goodfight]

[Neil turns to watch the other man carefully before focusing on his surroundings. There are three desks. Two contain terminals.

He steps toward one as his fingers fly over his Pip-Boy. The list of names disappears from his HUD.]

...Thanks.

[For taking his request seriously, even if there is no true need.]

I'll try to be discreet.

[doubletap]

[ He steps up next to Neil, eyes on the terminals as well. Alex ruffles Neil's hair, to show that all is fine. ]

Be however you want. I'm not going to dictate how you act.

[ That said, he pulls up the call log on the first terminal. Office emails. Hm. ]

[goodfight]

[Hair ruffling proves welcoming, and with his eyes fixed on the terminal screen, Neil grins.]

So be a dick, basically?

[doubletap]

[ He gives a grin to Neil. ]

However you want.

[ A repeat. A reminder, maybe, even if it's not needed. He's not going to try to control or use him. ]

[goodfight]

[Yeah, he gets it. The thought tempers his grin a bit.]

Alright.

[doubletap]

[ Adorable. The expression rises on Alex's face before he tries to hide it by staring at the terminal. He quickly accesses the email, hoping for a few distractions, but only one sits on this terminal. ]

Huh.

[ He opens the entry titled, "Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement." ]

[simpleagain]

... Loading Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement

From: Eugene Gibson
To: *ALL RESIDENTS*

Good morning, Vault 7 residents.

It's recently come to my attention that some dwellers are concerned about the recent happenings being the result of some "virus." I would like to take the time to reassure everything that there is NO virus present in our systems. The "uncontrollable" reactions and words that some people are complaining of are more than likely just a lack of personal control or a little too much of the bottle at the holiday party (am I right, Bill?).

Let me repeat: There is no correlation between a viral infection and the recent surge in unrelated theft and violence within the Vault. Tempers are a little frayed, of course: This is a new situation for all of us! But I hope, with everyone's help, that we will become a whole and centered community, looking out for the benefit of all.

That's all for today. Get back to work everyone.

-Overseer Gibson

[goodfight]

[Alex again displays a charm Neil cannot completely ignore.

Fortunately, distraction comes and comes quickly, in the form of a vault-wide email and his personal memories associated with vault announcements and activities. Particularly regarding two items. First--]

A viral infection, huh? Wonder if their doctor found something.

[And second--]

Though, damn, was Almodovar just born with a stick up his butt? I thought it was an Overseer thing, but the others always sound so much more pleasant in their emails.

[doubletap]

[ The mail reeks of the normal Vault-dwelling brainwashing that Alex has come to expect. He represses a shudder of disgust. ]

Well, it's definitely something from that transparent denial. And don't forget--your boss has a reason for his behavior. Playing god and all.

[goodfight]

[It reminds him of truths (how funny) that leave a sour taste in his mouth. Neil straightens, mind wandering back to the sealed orders mentioned in Almodovar's terminal.]

At least that's changed now.

[The paradigm had shifted to the new generation, for better or worse. Hopefully the former. If Amata manages to figure out how to overcome the punishment Alex had dealt, that is.]

Anything else on there?

[doubletap]

[ He switches off the terminal with a shrug. ]

Nothing on this one. Go check the other.

[goodfight]

You got it.

[Neil steps toward the other desk, to the other terminal, and hits the power button. He navigates through the OS until he finds its contents.

It contains two entries--one familiar, one less so. The latter, entitled "Locked Administrative Reply," is locked.]

Well, well, well.

[With renewed enthusiasm, the man begins the work of hacking through the security, taking special care to avoid being locked out.]

[simpleagain]

In time, more than most, the terminal gives up its contents.

... Loading Locked Administrative Reply ; re: Vault-Wide Public Service Announcement

From: Byron Rodan
To: Eugene Gibson

It's impossible to say that there's no correlation. Saying it's not viral doesn't take away the rest, Eugene. It's something, and there's no way you're going to be able to have us cover up the murders and rapes that have already been happening.

It's going to get worse before if gets better--if it does at all.

You're reaching for straws here.

-Bill.