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The Courier didn’t notice Vulpes Inculta nearing, her drunken state providing him with the perfect opportunity to slink behind the piano she lounged on as she sang slurry renditions of popular songs to the NCR soldiers that had come with her to The Tops. The intoxicated men gave no notice as the Frumentarius snatched the Courier by her lean legs and drug her off of the piano lid, despite the slightly delayed squeal she let out. Vulpes Inculta clamped his hand over the woman’s mouth and forced her behind a shadowy pillar that the casino patrons often used to disguise their inebriated romps. To any passerby, the Frumentarius and Courier would appear to be two lovers locked in a tight embrace as they whispered sweet nothings into one another’s ears. Only the Courier herself would be able to make out the knife that Vulpes Inculta had positioned right by her hip, the hilt obscured by the flap of his jacket.
“Vicious whore,” he denounced her, poking the tip of the knife ever-so-lightly into her skin. It wasn’t enough to even draw blood, but the Courier’s hips automatically tried to roll back against the pillar, though they found no purchase against the hard stone.
Her eyes were unfocused, drink clouding her senses as she peered up from the knife to his face. “You’re putting a hole in my shirt, Mr. Fox .”
He ignored her childish taunt as he leaned in close to her, their noses brushing from the proximity. The pungent odor of whiskey washed over him when she breathed out, the scent mixing disconcertingly with the earthy perfume she wore. His voice sharpened into a hiss as he said, “Did you really think the Strip would protect you? After what you did to the Legion? Did you really think this city of degenerates would save you?”
The Courier was not an easily frightened woman. Vulpes Inculta knew this about her, admired it secretly. Even knowing this, he was surprised when she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him closer, forcing his blade deeper into her skin. It was barely entering her body, but Vulpes Inculta still drew his weapon back, the tip of the blade coated red with her blood. His shock made him sloppy and unguarded, giving the Courier an opening to pull the dagger from his grasp. She cut her fingers in the process, but Vulpes Inculta guessed by her drunken smile that she barely felt any of her new wounds. She touched the tip of the knife to the soft concave at the front of his neck, seemingly uncaring if any of the casino patrons saw her openly threatening him.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Fox? Mad that I killed all of your little friends?”
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done to us,” he vowed. “Caesar has declared it, and so it shall be done. Even if you kill me, another legionary will punish you for your crimes.”
She let out a bitter laugh as she withdrew the knife, giving it a cursory wipe-off on her thigh before she stuck it into her belt. “Tell me something, Inculta. Would it make you feel better at all to know I didn’t enjoy killing them, or does it make the whole thing worse?”
He didn’t expect such a question, and he refused to consider it now that she’d posed it. He of all people knew that the feelings and intentions behind extinguishing a life didn’t matter, only the outcome. His curiosity was peaked, nonetheless. “Oh? So you didn’t delude yourself into thinking you were a righteous killer, then? What motivated you if not hatred for our society? You’ve clearly changed your position on the NCR, after all. Our greatest enemy.”
The Courier’s gaze floated over to her soldier companions for a moment. “No, I haven’t.”
“Caesar has eyes and ears all over the Mojave. Do you think we don’t hear of your exploits as you strengthen their feeble position?”
“I didn't say that I wasn’t helping them. I’m saying my opinion of them remains the same.”
“Then why betray us?” the Frumentarius demanded. “Why support the group you claim to despise for their weakness?”
The Courier gave Vulpes Inculta a long look before she answered, her eyes softening, though whether with emotion or intoxication was anyone’s guess. “The same reason you’ll always support Caesar. Mindless, selfish devotion. My situation’s changed. There’s someone else mixed up in all this now that I’ve got to think about.”
The Frumentarius scoffed at the woman, pressing closer to her when a gambler’s stare lingered a moment too long on them. The Courier didn’t push him away, her drunkenness seeming to alleviate some of her innate hostility. His lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers as he questioned, “Who is it that’s caused these changes in you? That sniper you run around with?”
“How do you- Jesus, nevermind. No, Boone’s not the reason, although he was pretty happy that I dropped you guys. It’s just someone important to me, okay? Does it really matter to you, anyway?”
Before Vulpes Inculta could speak again, a loud, slurred voice rang out over the ambient hum of people laughing and talking on the casino floor. “Naomi! Where’d you go?”
The Courier turned at the sound of her name being called. Vulpes Inculta craned his neck and spotted one of the soldiers from earlier stumbling around the casino, his gait uncoordinated with intoxication as he searched for her in the crowds.
The Frumentarius cut a peek at the Courier’s face as she spotted the man. He knew instantly that this soldier, that drunk child, barely more than a boy, was the reason Naomi had switched her allegiances. An unconscious smile bloomed across her face as she looked at him. Indulgent. Warm. It disgusted Vulpes Inculta to the very core to imagine the Courier feeling affection for that scrawny little man child. He was nothing, just some NCR private, and yet he’d managed to steal the most deadly woman in the Mojave away from the Legion. Away from Vulpes Inculta.
The Frumentarius swore to himself then and there that he would destroy that soldier boy if it was the last thing he ever did.