Curious. That is the perfect word to describe the Legion’s top spy as he observed the Courier sitting on a barstool in this hive of profligacy. She seems to be transacting with the profligate twins who runs the bar. Vulpes kept his senses sharp, his hat shadowing his face. He idly toys with the stale glass of whiskey on his table, which he purchased for the sake of display. Consuming alcohol is a wretched vice; it numbs the senses and makes a man weak and soft. He understands why Caesar forbids the consumption of this poison. The Courier drops a weathered hat in front of them, and the female twin enthusiastically reacts, then points at the room at the floor above. The male twin steps forward and said something that piqued the Courier’s attention. She nods at what he says repeatedly and has a pondering look at her face. The desert fox eavesdropped, listening intently to their quiet exchange. “So, …show more content…
She is getting under his skin, and he vehemently refuses to acknowledge the feeling. “Could you coo, could you care? For a cunning cottage we could share The world will pardon my mush, Cause I’ve got a crush, baby on you.” She paused for an interlude, subtly dancing and swaying her hips as she held on to the microphone, eyes closed. The legionary wondered why the Courier chose this song. Is she desiring another person, or did she choose to sing this just because? Why is he even concerning himself with what her motivations are, or how she felt? He watched her intensely, his hands clasped together and pressed against his lips, drawn in a tight line. “I’ve got a crush on you, sweetie pie, All the day and night-time, give me sigh, The world will pardon my mush, Cause I’ve got a crush, baby on