Altan stood outside the room Mary had led him to, then slipped inside with a quiet, “Wait here.” The few people passing in the narrow corridor hurried past, likely put off by his crossed arms, gun belt, and the flat, watchful expression he wore. Perhaps they suspected he was some kind of enforcer. Whatever the reason, Altan didn’t care—he just wanted his shirt back.

"Sorry for the wait. I had to freshen up—I was, uh, caught in the act," Mary said, her cheeks tinged pink as she poked her head out. She extended a balled-up shirt toward Altan. "Oh, and you probably don't want to wear that right now. Just saying."

Altan frowned but slid the shirt into his belt without comment. "Duly noted. Are you ready to go? I'm starving."

Mary stepped out, wearing a belted pink dress so tattered and patched it was more repair than original fabric. A floral scarf hung loosely around her neck, and she topped it off with a sleeveless gray vest. "Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on," she said with a laugh. "I could go for a bite. The rich johnnies like their girls skinny, so I usually just skip meals when I'm working one. Let's get moving."

"Right. I'm sure Lily is waiting to give me an earful. Best to get it over with," Altan said with a sigh. He added softly, almost to himself, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ."

Beside him, Mary glanced up. "You the religious type?"

Altan shook his head. "No. Maybe. Probably not. But there's wisdom in the Good Book—if you know where to look."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Mary asked, her tone curious but lightly teasing.

He shrugged. "Plenty of stuff. More than I’ve got time to list. Love, compassion, humility, justice, faith, living morally, looking out for others—you know, the basics. Common sense, really, but it’s nice to have something to point to sometimes."

"Common sense?" Mary echoed under her breath. Shaking her head, she gestured to the stairwell ahead as they approached. "Well, you’re up. I’ll follow."

Altan led the way, his grin wry. "Hope you like stairs. We’re heading to the Upper Deck. Weatherly Hotel."

Mary hesitated, gripping the railing a little tighter. She’d been arrested here just the day before. "Ah. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea."

"Maybe," Altan said, glancing back at her. After a beat, she sighed and followed him.

"So, what’s your favorite, um, part of the 'good book'?"

"The Bible. And that’s hard to say. I could share a few verses, if you’re willing to hear them."

Mary shrugged. "If you can talk and walk at the same time, be my guest. I fucking hate these stairs," she muttered, glancing upward.

Altan chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. Anyway…" He paused, then let out a quiet "Ah." He waited for her to reach the landing before continuing. "The first book of Timothy, fifth chapter, verse eight: 'Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.' It instructs me to be a good brother, son, and perhaps one day, husband."

Mary smirked. "Perhaps one day, eh? So you’re saying there’s no missus in your life right now?"

Altan chuckled. "There’s only one girl in my life at the moment, and she’s enough of a handful as it is."

Mary laughed. "I can’t wait to meet her. Assuming there isn’t a mob waiting for me with pitchforks and torches," she added, her chuckle nervous.

"We’ll see." Altan reached another landing and paused. Mary stopped to catch her breath as she caught up. "How can you take all these stairs so casually?" she asked, gesturing at the half dozen flights they’d climbed so far.

"First book of Corinthians, ninth chapter, twenty-seventh verse: 'I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave, so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.' Discipline and integrity, across all facets of myself, are vital." When she stared at him, he sighed. "I eat right and exercise every day. Being out in the wasteland has thrown a bit of a wrench in that, but I’ve found that running, gunning, and carrying everything I own has proven a sufficient replacement for my usual exercise regimen."

"And the eating right part?"

Altan barked out a laugh. "I have a teenage sister. Most of what I don’t spend on bullets and plates goes toward food."

The rest of their climb was spent in idle conversation, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. Altan asked about life in Rivet City, and Mary teased him about his knack for trouble. Between laughs and occasional pauses to catch their breath, the climb felt less like a chore and more like a welcome distraction. When they reached the Upper Deck landing and stopped to catch their breath, Mary nudged Altan. "Alright, big guy. I'm gonna stay behind you, if you don't mind."

The Weatherly Hotel’s lobby was quiet, the polished floors creaking underfoot as Altan entered. A faint smell of roasted Brahmin lingered from the nearby kitchen. Delilah lay sprawled on a faded couch, her head resting on a threadbare pillow, a light blanket pulled snugly around her. Altan let out a quiet sigh of relief, smiling at the sight, then sheepishly turned his attention to Vera Weatherly, who had paused in the midst of giving Buckingham orders.

"Well, if it isn’t my most troublesome guest." Vera crossed her arms. "Do you realize the mess you’ve made?"

Altan rubbed the back of his head. "I don't, but if you'll allow me, I'd like to understand and make it up to you."

Vera huffed and started ticking off on her fingers. "'Understand,' he says. Well, for one, people are messy when they die. You should know that already. I lost almost a quarter of my daily sales because I had to shut down and sanitize the lobby. I’ve lost Sister's patronage and rent, and last but not least, my hotel now has a murder attached to it."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Altan nodded, gesturing toward Delilah. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. How's Lily holding up?"

A brief smile flit across Vera’s face as she glanced at the sleeping girl. “She's fine. A little rattled, but she's one tough cookie. She even helped with the cleanup.”

Altan smiled. "Yeah, that's my Lily. So," he turned to Vera, "What do I owe you?"

Vera pointed a finger at him. "Ooh, the nerve of you. If you were anyone else, *anyone* else, I'd kick your ass the the curb and be done with it. But," she sighed, glancing at her bedroom door, "You risked your life to bring Bryan to me, and that man you killed was a cheapskate, a brute, and an absolute pig who was only worth as much as he spent." She paused. "And I suppose your shooting of him could be described as self-defense, of you squint."

Altan stood silently, so she continued, clapping her hands together. "So. You owe me two hundred and thirty-seven caps, which I expect to be paid in full by the end of the week. That's for the cost of cleaning supplies and labor, which I’ve heavily discounted thanks to Delilah's help, and of course Sister's tab. He hadn’t paid for those bottles or his meal yet. Also," she added, cutting Altan off before he could speak, "You will be having at least two meals here per day. In the lobby, not your room."

Altan nodded. "Sure thing. Why the lobby, though?" He asked, raising his hands as Vera fixed him with a stern glare. "Not complaining, merely curious."

Vera smirked. "Well, you know the Upper Deck is where the wealthier residents of Rivet City live. And of course, they get bored. You, for better or worse," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "are the most exciting thing that's happened on this ship in a while. People are going to want to meet you, pick your brain, or even just sit and stare from a distance.”

Altan chuckled. "Ah. I think I see where this is going. Alright, you have yourself a deal. I'll be sure to keep 'em coming back, okay? And, uh, thanks."

Vera sighed, crouching next to Delilah and gently shaking her awake. "Well, I couldn't just throw you out. I’m a woman of my word, and I shudder to think of the accommodations this sweet girl would find herself in otherwise."

Delilah stirred awake, blinking her eyes. "Hi, Miss Vera," she sleepily mumbled. "Is my brother back yet?"

Vera smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of the girl's face. "He's just over there, sweetie. I'm done yelling at him, so I’m releasing him into your care.”

Delilah giggled and sat up, folding her blanket and placing it atop her pillow before turning to face Altan. She stared for a moment, then pointed at Mary, who was peeking out from behind Altan. "Who's that?"

Vera’s eyes widened as Mary stepped into view, her expression flickering between surprise and something harder to place. "Well, this just got interesting," Vera muttered under her breath.

Mary flinched at the remark but stepped forward, offering her hand to the teen. "Hi, I'm Mary. I met your brother in jail," she said, trying to keep a straight face before giggling.

Altan sighed and knelt before Delilah. "Hey, Lily. I'm sorry for this morning. I overreacted and almost messed things up for us, big time. I'm going to do better. Can you forgive me?"

Delilah frowned, then hugged him. "Of course I forgive you, you big dork. But I was so scared! I thought..." She trembled, memories of baton strikes, angry shouts and gunshots resurfacing. "I... I thought I'd never get to see you again," she sobbed into his shoulder.

Altan sighed and wrapped his arms around her, softly cooing reassurances in her ear.

Delilah cried until the sobs subsided, then pulled away, wiping her face with Altan's tank top. She crossed her arms tightly, attempting to regain some composure. "You made a lot of trouble for me today, bro. So, I've decided," she faltered, a nervous tremble in her voice, "I'm having crisps and cola for dinner."

Altan narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. "Fuck it, me too." As Delilah stared at him, wide-eyed, silently mouthing "It worked?" to herself, Altan stood. He turned to Vera, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and held it out. "Two hundred and thirty-seven caps?"

Vera’s eyes widened as she unfolded the paper and read the tally on it. "Goodness me. Bryan truly wasn't making that up, was he?"

Altan shrugged. "It was with my belt when I grabbed it on the way out of the brig. Seven super mutants and their armaments—the Marines who brought us back verified it. I don’t really know how this stuff works, but I trust you won’t screw me over. Think that'll cover us for the rest of our stay?"

Vera glanced at the note, muttering to herself as she counted on her fingers before nodding. "This is a Mark, a type of fiat currency we use here in Rivet City. Assuming you don’t go overboard or cause any more incidents in my hotel, this should more than cover your stay. You’ll even have over half left, which you can cash out into caps when you leave."

Altan nodded. "Great. A quarter of that goes to Bryan—he earned it in that fight. As for the rest? I promised Lily crisps and cola for dinner, and I was thinking we could rent a couple of movies to go with it.”

Delilah cheered, and Vera shook her head, tucking the paper into her blouse. "Alright. I'll have those out to you shortly. You’re welcome to enjoy them in your room, but your presence in my dining room will be required starting tomorrow."

Altan chuckled, then turned toward the entrance, where Delilah stood, arms crossed and eyeing Mary with suspicion. "You never did tell me who she is, bro.”

Altan smiled at Delilah's skepticism but kept his tone light. He glanced back at Mary, who was standing near the door, clearly aware of Delilah’s sharp gaze.

"Right. You know each other's names already, but—Delilah, Mary. Mary, Delilah." Altan grinned as he ruffled Delilah’s hair. "This munchkin," he said, giving her a playful noogie, "is my little sister. She's a lot smarter than I am." Delilah squealed and wriggled out of his grasp, giving Altan a playful shove.

"And Lily," Altan continued, turning to Mary, "this is Mary. I met her in the holding cell, and we had a chat. She's going to hang out with us for a bit, if you're okay with that."

Delilah studied Mary for a moment, her hand on her chin, before nodding curtly. "Fine. But you better remember this, lady. I'm Altan's best and favorite little sister, and I'm watching you!" She shot Mary a mock-serious look, but the playful glint in her eye made it clear she was just teasing.

Altan sighed, and Mary giggled, soon followed by Delilah. Mary knelt down before Delilah and took one of her hands. "I solemnly swear that I won’t take your brother away from you," she said with a wink. She glanced at Altan and smirked. "He's not interested in me anyway. That man only has eyes for you."

Delilah nodded solemnly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "And don’t you forget it!" She grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her to her feet. "C’mon, I’ll show you our room! It has a tiny fridge!" With a giggle, she took off running, dragging Mary along behind her.

Altan watched the scene with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

"Here you are, Mr. Cooke." Vera approached, a tray laden with a pair of holotapes, snack packages and several large bags of crisps in one hand, and a pail filled with ice and half a dozen bottles of Nuka-Cola in the other. As she handed them over, she glanced at the door and murmured to Altan, "I don't mean to pry, and I certainly don't want to police who you spend time with, but it would weigh on my conscience if I didn’t warn you— that girl is trouble."

Altan nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, she told me as much when we met. Not that I’m looking for that kind of trouble," he added, with a wry smile.

Vera sighed and shook her head. "Well, whatever your reason is for keeping her around, just make sure you keep your door partially open while she’s with you. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea."

Altan nodded, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I’ll do that. Thanks for the advice."

As he entered the hall, hearing Delilah’s excited, one-sided conversation, he couldn’t help but smile. He was about to have crisps for dinner.