Alright then who needs savin’

mischa-pratt:

ncr-coltonburke:

mischa-pratt:

ncr-coltonburke:

A shit load of people need savin’, where the hell are you when the shit hits the fan, hmm? Bet in bed with that blonde tart waitress…

Hey now, Misch’ I been savin people left right’n’center. Ain’t even take that girl home, the fuck you think I am. C’mon now, that ain’t jealousy I’m detectin is it? 

You ain’t the only one, even saved the skin of little old Hunter. Like I know what you do after you break from the pack? For all I knew, you went back to get fawned over again. Ain’t jealousy in the least, pity for you maybe if you had to stoop that low. Fuck— this really ain’t the place to have a spat right now. Where the fuck are you Colt? We need to try and find a way out of this shit hole to get word out.

Ahaha, Hunter dun got himself into a good ol’ situation huh? Ain’t surprisin’ me one bit. Hell nah’ I just set the lady loose on the town. Not my type, too clingy. Hey I didn’t on go to her she got on me, you recall that right? Fuck am I? Fuck are you, pigtails.

Well, it’s good to be back.

misskaylajennings:

ncr-coltonburke:

Howdy ma’am how are you doin’ don’t happen to need saving, do ya? My friend happens to think I ain’t been savin’ enough people through this damn invasion. 

Well, no. I don’t seem to be in a situation wherein I need saving as of the moment.

I’m sure your friend has his reasons on why he would say that. I’m pretty sure you do your job pretty well, too. Look at your toned muscles, must be from all the saving you do.

She actually, but that’s cause she thinks I ain’t been doin nothin since the invasion. And I do ma’am - but I ask again, you happen to need any of that savin? Strip ain’t a safe place right now. That and all the working out…

Well, it’s good to be back.

misskaylajennings:

Howdy ma’am how are you doin’ don’t happen to need saving, do ya? My friend happens to think I ain’t been savin’ enough people through this damn invasion. 

Alright then who needs savin’

mischa-pratt:

ncr-coltonburke:

A shit load of people need savin’, where the hell are you when the shit hits the fan, hmm? Bet in bed with that blonde tart waitress…

Hey now, Misch’ I been savin people left right’n’center. Ain’t even take that girl home, the fuck you think I am. C’mon now, that ain’t jealousy I’m detectin is it? 

Alright then who needs savin’

Scar Tissue || Colton / Hunter / Mischa

mischa-pratt:

Perking a single brow, she’d stand upright to look at him. “Come now, I thought you couldn’t wait for a game.” Eying that little number all up on the grunt, Mischa would roll her eyes and grab at the bottle left untouched by hunter. “I don’t want your soul… I just want your body. It’d only be for one job, I promise.” Smiling wider she’d chuckle a bit after taking a drink off the bottle. “He, however, is my bitch, whether he admits it or not.” Returning to where she’d once been standing with Colt, the courier would set her drink down next to his hat, glaring at the item for a moment before looking back at the youngest of the trio. “Your shot now, boyo.”

Mischa would do her best to keep herself distracted by the game, watching the gleam of the dim lights on the balls rolling about, or watching as Hunter calculated his next move. Absently she spun the cue in her hand, unable to shake this strange annoyance that was creeping up on her - focused decidedly on that blonde who was fawning over soldier boy. When the time came for her shot she’d grab up the bottle and take a long swill, and then set it back down. “My turn,” plucking up the hat she’d place it on her head comfortably and move in to check the lines of any possible shots.

The scene in the corner of his eye couldn’t have made him smile more - Hunter was about to learn a thing or two from the girl. And she taught hard, there was no gently easing him into this. Mischa was going to rake him over for all he was worth and make him regret losing that game. Colton completely ignored the remark about being Mischa’s bitch. Inwardly he was cursing the hell out of her. Though, the hand trailing across his posed a good distraction. “Really though ‘luck.” he glanced over briefly to give a final well wishing to the young lad.

Colton wasn’t expecting much out of the playful flirtation, his focus was fully on the dainty little brunette, even if his eyes were on the blonde. “‘Lo.” he muttered when a hand had placed itself on his chin, lifting it upward as she inspected his face closely. It was rather odd, but alright. “Like my face?” he quirked a brow, still a little confused. “I do.” she nodded, leaning more so against the cowboy, her other hand placed to his chest. “I didn’t catch your name.” she whispered lightly, trying desperately to be appealing - she was, however, not. “Colton Burke at y’service ma’am.” ah, where was his hat when he needed it to tip.

When the girl pulled herself closer Colton dodged the incoming kiss and wrapped his good arm around the womans shoulder, bringing her alongside him to the table the other two played at. “Hows the game?” he looked over the table, trying to figure out what exactly had been happening.

(Source: ncr-coltonburke)

Scar Tissue || Colton / Hunter / Mischa

mischa-pratt:

Now I’m a beast? I guess it’s better than a whore, though only marginally.” Rolling her eyes and smiling a bit, she’d finish off the last of her drink and turn her head to peek at Colt briefly. “Yeah, that image is rather amusing isn’t it? I’d almost pay to see it if I wasn’t trying to avoid stitching him up again.” Mischa would watch the man walk away with that smile on her face, eyes lingering a bit longer than they should’ve, but you couldn’t fault the girl now could you?

She’d purposefully ignored the compliment, rolling it around in her head before waving it away. It’s not like he meant it in the way she was thinking anyway. “That’s only because he’s never managed it in his lifetime, which makes it something altogether impossible. Which is close to the truth…” she paused and pretended to think for a moment, “Maybe I should’ve let him win one at least once, give the poor boy some hope.” That’d never happen of course; she had too much fun making him work for it.

“Let’s see, if on the rare chance that you do beat me…” eying him up and down while thinking, he’d tap a finger against her lips. “I’ll run something for you. Which is highly valuable in its own right, since I’m the best courier to roam the Mojave.” Stepping forward she’d look him dead in the eye, “But if I win, you’re my bitch. Should I need help with a shit job that is.” Shrugging her shoulders she would lean over the table before looking back up at him, “Either way you get that carton I promised.” Without looking back at the balls she sent the cue hard into collection of colored spheres with a smirk, the loud crack punctuation to her statement.

Colton shook his head overhearing the conversation behind him, doing his best to just ignore it. Pf, he could kick her ass at the game, but always let her win - yeah, that was his story and he was sticking to it. “Thank ya ma’am.” he nodded to the woman behind the bar. Pretty little thing she was, petite and blonde. Not really his type, but it wouldn’t stop him from laying it on thick - if for no other reason than to get under Mischa’s skin… If she’d be jealous anyway? Honestly, Colton didn’t always understand their relationship.

“Well ma’am now can I buy you a drink too, or would that be too forward.” he moved to sit the other two bottles on the nearby billards table, winking to Hunter and nodding to Mischa. “G’luck with that.” he shook his head looking at the table. He was screwed completely, but it was hilarious so he didn’t much mind watching the show. “Now ma’am about that drink?” his southern accent as thick as ever, leaning over the bar and raising a brow, watching the blonde coo over him. The uniform, he was sure that had a damn good amount with the way women fawned over him.

It wasn’t long (nor had it taken much in the way of effort) before the young woman had skipped around the bar and moved to his side, her body leaned against his while one hand rested on his shoulder. “Oh baby what happened.” she sighed, trailing her fingers down the entirety of his arm, circling a few times over his hands. “Well that’d be nothing much to talk about, gunshot wound. Comes with the territory ma’am.” he glanced over at the duo behind him, wondering how the game was going.

(Source: ncr-coltonburke)

Scar Tissue || Colton / Hunter / Mischa

mischa-pratt:

hunter-walsh:

Hunter rolled his eyes, “Of course. They’ll have to build another dam for my tears after the torture you’ve put me through.” Hunter had a passport — one he’d hustled a week or so ago off of a drunkard. But hey, if Colt wanted to show off his privileges, then who was Hunter to stop him? He strolled after Colt, laughing loudly as he repeats what the other is thinking.

“You know, even if you do blame it on me, she’s going to tear you a new one anyway.” He rubbed his jaw. “So let’s try not to get into any fights, okay? Think you can do that? Even though I’d totally back you up, I’m like a delicate wastelandic flower. Let’s disregard how those two words don’t work together.” 

Hunter snapped his fingers.

“Hell, if you manage to make it through the night without a single fight going on, I’ll give you two hundred caps. How’s that sound?” 

He shook his head as they stepped inside. He glanced at Mischa and then at Colt.

“You know, you’re warning me to not go up against her but you keep on bringing on the right circumstances for me to do so. It’s like dangling bait. Right in front of me.”

Hunter hadn’t even noticed the man reach for the knife, too preoccupied by watching Mischa play. But once Cole pointed the end of the pistol at the back of the man’s head, Hunter couldn’t help but give a low whistle. 

“Technically, Burke, that was a fight. Almost. But it still counts. So you’re out of the running for that two hundred caps already.” He laughed as he went over to Mischa, mock-saluting her. 

“Hey, chief!” There was a bright smile on his face, “Burke here keeps warning me that I shouldn’t even try for that game against you since you’re most likely going to win. But then he just goes on and sets it up all nice for us — I mean, look at this lovely venue.” He gestured around them.

She’d caught the arrival of her late companion for the evening out of the corner of her eye, along with the fresh face following him. This was the only reason why she’d not realized what one of the mindless fucks was trying to pull - rather the knife. Rolling her eyes Mischa would collect the caps and tuck them in with the rest of her currency. “First thing you got to do is take away the first real action I might have had all night. Thank you Colt, real fucking hero you are.” Lifting her brow at the salute that Hunter gave her, she’d shake her head and look both of them over before focusing on lucky little bastard.

“Ain’t a chief, or in the NCR. Cut that fucking shit out now.” Her words weren’t as harsh as they could be, and the very faint smirk at the edge of her lips was another clue that she wasn’t really irritated with either of them. “It’s a shit hole, but better than most. You’d be smart to take his advice though. However, if you rack’em I’m willing to teach you just why it’s a mistake to try and take me at this game here. Cards would’ve been more even a ground.” Tilting her head at Burke, her yes would inspect him for any damage, and just because. “Not like he could even play if he wanted with that bum arm, he’d be even worse than normal.”

Pushing off the table she’d move to rest her smaller frame next to Colt’s, waiting for Hunter to do as she told him and get the balls together. While she waited, Mischa would nurse the drink she’d already had handy, absently chatting with her childhood friend. “So what happened this time, did someone insult you, the rifle, or both?” He was so infuriating sometimes, but she couldn’t help but be curious as to why he’d needed a return trip to the damn infirmary.

"Luckily I don’t need your caps." he huffed, watching the two carefully. "Ain’t a smart move kid." Colt warned, and he wasn’t going to do so again, if the guy wanted to lose a round to the brunette that was his own damn choice. "Hey now." a hand moved to tug his hat from his head and set it on a table beside him. "Normally I do pretty good. Can’t promise I’d be on top of my game with the damn thing but I’d hold." he tapped his arm, it wasn’t THAT useless… was it?

When the womans attention focused on him everything tensed up. “Huh.” he looked around for a few minutes, normally he was pretty quick to return banter but Mischa was a lot prettier now then when they were twelve. “Neither. I just dislocated it. No big.” he looked down to it. “Did a good stitch job though, ain’t popped them yet.” it was damn impressive that he’d gone more than five hours without ripping the stitches, she’d given him a pretty good sew up that time. Colton was almost tempted to use her as his personal medic. She wouldn’t much like that idea though.

"I’ll grab a couple. You two enjoy." he shook his head, tapping Hunter on the shoulder as he passed, the guy was going to lose and Mischa would have another pair under her belt. "Three of your best." Whatever drinks they had would suffice, the man just needed something in him. He couldn’t shake the feeling tonight wasn’t going to end well.

(Source: ncr-coltonburke)

I’m with whoever Mischa is with.

Because she’ll kick my ass be mad at me if I’m not.

And cause she’s pretty. 

Scar Tissue || Colton / Hunter / Mischa

mischa-pratt:

hunter-walsh:

Hunter yelped at the kick, having been previously enthralled in the complicated-as-fuck circuitry of his moody Pipboy. He looked up at Colt, an overly pronounced frown on his face as he stood. He didn’t walk.

“Is this how you treat all your new-found friends? If so, I think it’s time to rethink all of my future life choices surrounding me hanging out with you.” 

And then he burst into a bright grin.

“Kidding. But well. You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? Is this how you ask all the ladies out?” He cackled as he followed after Colt towards the Strip. He stuck the Pipboy back on his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“But seriously. Remember what I told you about me and alcohol. The moment you buy me a drink — and yes, you are buying me a drink, consider it my ‘welcome to the strip’ present — you are hereby responsible for my shenanigans.”

Stupid fucking asshole, that’s the thought which was banging around in Mischa’s head at the moment. Of course that grunt had gone and gotten into another fight. He would, when he knew she’d be waiting for his happy ass. No, he had to defend the honor of his gun, or some shit like that. Granted she loved to bust a few heads, but fuck all, did he have to do that on her time? No. Didn’t stop him though, “Fucking, Colt.” She cursed his name under her breath just before she struck the cue ball with a savage stroke of her stick. The resulting crack of balls followed before they scattered to the wind, most just bouncing around wildly, until one stripe sunk into a pocket.

A wicked smile curled over her lips as she stood up and prowled around the table for her next shot. The two men she’d been playing for the last hour watched in awe as she downed ball after all, one of them too focused on her ass to realize he was getting hustled. His friend just stood there with his mouth open catching flies. Finally she missed, but managed to block the eight ball from being maneuvered by the likes of these fuck-tards. “Now, take it easy on me boys. I’m not used to taking on two at a time.”

She’d watch as the one distracted more by his opponent went to set up a shot; of course he would end up missing. Sure maybe she had leaned over to flash a bit of a view down her shirt, but a woman had to do what she could when it came to making sure that she didn’t lose. Smiling Mischa would run the table again, finishing up the last four balls - including the eight. Turning back she’d lean against the table and perk a brow, one hand gripping the cue while the other was held out for payment. “That’ll be 75 caps, pay up.”

Colt chuckled a little, looking back to the curly haired boy. “Cry a little more.” he rolled his eyes, showing the Securitron his badge. “He’s with me.” Colt nodded back to Hunter, having no idea if he’d pass the cap check to get through the doors to the strip. “Yeah, well if I’m responsible for your attitude, you’re responsible for my shoulder - which means if I fuck it up again, Mischa blames you instead of me.” Mischa would still smack him upside the head if he hurt the arm AGAIN, but hey. 

As soon as the doors to his favourite watering hole swung open he let out a soft laugh. Mischa, playing pool - more like hustling these fine folk out of their money. “Warnin’ you boy, not to play with this one.” he noted to the newest member of his little pack. “She don’t lose. Not even to me, and I don’t lose.” Colt wouldn’t admit that she was better than him - not to her, it was always ‘Yeah, I let you win.” or some other excuse. 

When one of the two she seemed to have been playing reached for something shaped a little more like a knife than a sack of caps he grunted. His good hand (for once) snagged his pistol and dropped it dead center to the back of the mans head. “Ain’t your momma ever told you, don’t bring a knife to a gunfight?” he asked, smooth and calm as ever. “Best you leave. Pay the girl, and go.” the two hurried to drop the caps on the table and scurried off like mice. 

Just to show off he couldn’t help but twirl the pistol a few times before re-holstering it. “I’ll teach ya how to do that…. Without shootin y’self in the foot.” Colt leaned back against the wall, eyeing the two. “Howdy.” he mumbled with a tip of his hat. 

(Source: ncr-coltonburke)