"So what're we looking for?"

"A Stradivarius."

"A Stradi-what now?" Butch is getting a little tired of not recognizing half the words that come out of her mouth. "You're just making things up!" he accuses.

"Noo. A Stradivarius is a kind of violin. Made over 400 years ago by a master craftsman called Stradivarius. It might be the only one left, and it's priceless." (Sometimes, deep down, he wonders if maybe he should have paid more attention in school. But the stuff they learned in school is useless for survival.) But if pressed, he'll admit that she generally doesn't try to make him feel like an idiot for not knowing all the stuff she does, and she always explains things in a way he can understand.

"These old Vaults give me the creeps. There ain't gonna be clones in this one, right?" They're at the entrance of Vault 92. Butch is looking around while she uses the access panel to open the Vault door.

"Agatha said this Vault sheltered some of the greatest musicians in the world." Toni says, as the door opens onto a badly lit, dirt and rust-encrusted walkway.

"Not anymore. Wonder what kinda sick experiment they ran in this one?" he kicks a tin can idly, and Dogmeat bounds forward to chase it.

"Didn't you hear me? The greatest musicians in the world! Getting them all together and seeing what kind of wonderful music they make would be experiment enough, I'd think."

If that was the case, Butch thinks, why aren't their descendants still happily playing their banjos or whatever? This place hasn't been maintained for decades by his guess. Toni's being weirdly naive.

"I'll bet," Butch catches her eye and waggles his eyebrows to make sure she takes his meaning.

"Ugh, you're disgusting."

"This place is disgusting! Violins are made of wood, yeah? What makes you think this one hasn't just rotted into mulch?" There's a tape next to a defunct computer. He pockets it.

"It would have been an antique, even back then. The previous owner should have been taking excellent care of it, locking it in a special temperature controlled pressurized case when not in use. That's what Agatha said, anyway." Toni says, as she tries to jimmy a locker open.

"This Agatha," Butch begins, though he has a nasty suspicion of what her answer is going to be, "what's she paying? You said this violin was priceless."

"I honestly don't remember." That's what he figured.

"Doll, we're recovering an antique that could be worth millions and you didn't even bother to talk price?" he can't help raising his voice. You see a gal take down death claws single-handed and you think you know her. "Sometimes I forget you're a goddamned goody-two-shoes. Babe, you can't just do stuff for free like that."

"Don't call me babe. And why not? There's (huff) bound to be (puff) plenty of other good stuff to salvage here, so we'll still be making a profit." As if to underscore her words, the locker buckles under her persistence, and a suit of metal armor falls out with a clatter. "There, see? We fix this up and we're looking at 300 or so caps from those suckers at Tenpenny Tower, plus another 400 for the assault rifles we looted off that patrol of supermutants a while back, and that comes up to way more than Agatha could ever have afforded to pay us. And last time I checked, we weren't exactly strapped for cash."

Their noise attracts a swarm of bloatflies, but they're quickly dispatched. Butch's aim has been getting pretty damn good, if he does say so himself. (Which he does, because he's the best. What's the point in modesty?) And of course Toni's hasn't gotten any worse.

"It's not about caps, it's about fair compensation for services rendered." Butch continues, not wanting to let this go. She's a nerd right? Real smart. With a brain like that, she's got to understand.

"Oh my god. How the fuck did you manage to pay attention in Mr. Brotch's most boring class?" There's surprise and amusement in her voice, and he dearly wants to make her admit that there was a class that she, the teacher's pet, was terrible at, and which he, chief delinquent, passed with flying colors. Maybe later.

"This shit's important, Toni. If we go around doing everything for free soon every asshole in the Wasteland is gonna know we're suckers. The Tunnel Snakes ain't a charity."

"I'm not going to bleed people dry of caps they can't afford to spend just because you don't want to look like a pushover." And now he's angry, she always talks like she's not part of the Tunnel Snakes, like they're not a gang, or if she does it's because she's humoring him. What, does she think she's better than him?

"Well I'm not gonna get screwed over by some crapbasket with crocodile tears just because you decided to believe his crummy sob story." Goddammit, he doesn't want to see her kill herself for some fuckers who can't even be bothered to do their own dirty work.

"Sometimes I forget how much of a selfish asshole you are, Butch."

Yeah, he's the asshole, and he's trying to look out for her. But it's a funny thing, no matter how often they fight, neither of them ever brings up the idea of leaving. At least not permanently. (Which is no surprise, at least to him. Where else is she gonna find such a handsome and capable partner?)

They look around the atrium some more in angry silence. Dogmeat takes down a couple of radroaches. They find more supplies. It's shaping up to be an unusually uneventful scavenging expedition. As they get a better picture of the layout of the place, Butch figures one of them's going to have to break the silence so they can discuss where to go from there. It's probably going to be her. She's little Miss Brown-nose, after all. Always been willing to forgive, if not forget.

"We have an embarrassment of options." she announces, sure enough. Butch double-checks the map on his pip-boy. He's got to whack it to get it to snap into focus, but he can situate himself easily enough. There's the Lab, the Reactor level, the Sound Testing area, the Living Quarters, and the Overseer's office. He wouldn't say he's embarrassed, exactly, but she's right that there are lots areas to explore.

"What happened here, anyway? Any ideas?" she asks.

"Maybe they just left as soon as they could? Vault life sucks." he responds, but he tosses her the holotape. "Found this at the entrance."

She gives him an annoyed look but pops it into her pipboy. A long-dead scientist's voice speaks of white noise experiments. "Probably got sick of this egghead's shit and left." Butch comments.

"Which doesn't really help us find the Stradivarius. Let's try the living quarters."

-----------------------------------------

There are mirelurks in the living quarters. Butch hates the sons-a-bitches, and their heavily armored bodies, and tiny little heads that can only be properly attacked from the front. Which is where their eyes are. At which point they charge, razor sharp pincers raised. So you gotta shoot like your life depends on it, because it does. Toni tosses him a laser rifle and pulls out her plasma pistol. And she orders Dogmeat to go back to the Atrium. The dog's teeth won't do much against mirelurk carapace, but he's too brave (or too stupid) to realize it.

So much for uneventful.

And then he trips over a stray tin can, like an idiot, going down in a clatter, and it's like every single 'lurk in the whole area decide to converge on their location. Toni's shooting cell after desperate cell into one hunter's face, but there's a mirelurk king coming around the corner, and Butch manages to shoot it in the knee before he's back on his feet. We're not going to make it, he thinks, as the king looks up from its leg in rage and lets out one of those psychic yell things and Toni stops shooting, dazed. But there's a computer terminal behind them and maybe, just maybe, they can get the security system to take care of this shit for them, so he shouts "cover me, babe!" and gets to hacking.

4 ATTEMPT(S) LEFT

Toni seems to shake the whatever it is from her head and gets back to shooting, enough to keep the 'lurks at bay for a while, but her aim isn't as steady and there's a pained expression on her face.

3 ATTEMPT(S) LEFT

"Shit!" Butch swears as another mirelurk approaches from the other side. He fires the laser rifle vaguely in that direction and punches in his next attempt.

2 ATTEMPT(S) LEFT

"Butch, they're closing in!" Toni says, shooting frantically until the energy cell runs dry. As she jams another cell into her pistol, the mirelurks are moving in -

EXACT MATCH!

- he slams his hand down on the enter key and only then does he read the option that was selected: Noise Purge. The mirelurks all collapse instantly. Toni drops to her knees and checks the nearest one.

"Dead. Thank god." she sighs in relief.

"I think you mean 'thank Butch'." says Butch, though privately agreeing with her. "Your smart and good-looking leader just saved your sweet ass. Better show some gratitude."

"You saved your own sweet ass at the same time, Mister." Toni seems a bit unsteady as she gets back up to her feet. "I don't think it counts as something to be grateful for when you're just looking after your own skin."

"It's a nice skin. I don't want it sliced up."

She chuckles. then winces. "Owwwww. It hurts to laugh." she pinches the bridge of her nose.

Butch drops the act immediately. "Wait, shit, you okay?"

She's touching her head gingerly. "I don't think I have a concussion, so I should be fine. I'm just going to have a bitching headache for a bit."

"Tell me if it gets worse. I don't care if god came down from on high and told ya personally to take this mission, no fucking fiddle is worth..." he can't say 'losing you', so he just settles for "this bullshit."

"Thanks." she says. "But I'm not out of commission yet. Let's keep looking for the violin."

She walks, visibly still tired, into the women's dorm. Butch follows her.

---------------------------------------

They don't have any more close calls like the one in the Living Quarters. The rest of the mirelurks are dispatched one by one with laser-assisted efficiency. Toni was right that there was a lot of valuable stuff to scavenge in the Vault, but Butch is more concerned about her headache and her mood. The headache does get better, though she gets Butch to handle the hacking when they find a terminal. Her mood, however, gets progressively worse with each new holotape or personal log they discover.

"Science is supposed to be used for the betterment of mankind!" she tells him urgently. "Not just to see if you can hypnotize people for shits and giggles!"

"Hey," he says, trying to distract her from her anger. "Check this one out." And he reads her Parker Livingsteen's final love note to Hilda, wearing a knowing grin the entire time.

('Hi Hildie,' reads the terminal. 'Just wanted to send you a quick note. Our "session" together yesterday was wonderful! I'm glad the studio doors lock, otherwise some of your stuffier fellow musicians might not appreciate how closely you and I work. Make sure when we meet tonight, you bring your delicate instrument, and your violin too. I have an idea of something we can do with the bow; a new technique I've always wanted to try...' Butch makes sure to hit the innuendo on 'session', 'closely', 'delicate instrument', and 'technique' as hard as he can.)

"Good job, Butch, you found the Stradivarius." she tells him flatly.

Get it? They were banging. They were doing the horizontal tango. They were... He can't think of anything to say that doesn't sound really stupid. He searches her face, trying to see if she understood, trying to communicate, without words, what the joke is.

"I guess we'll have to tell Agatha to disinfect the bow before using it." she adds.

He hates it when she does her ice queen routine.

-----------------------------------

They're on their way out now, the violin case tucked under Butch's arm, but Toni says she wants to check out the Overseer's office before they leave. According to the story they've pieced together, a man named Professor Malleus had been conducting experiments on the population of the Vault 92, using white noise to implant subliminal suggestions into their minds. As far as Butch understood, the trouble had started when the most promising subject went berserk. Before long a third, or even half of the population had gone mad under the effects of the white noise, and the resulting conflict pretty much spelled the end of the Vault.

They find the Overseer's terminal, and Toni doesn't even move aside to let Butch do the hacking. (She's at least as good with computers as he is, he knows.) She stares at the screen with a furious intensity, punching in keywords until the machine submits to her assault. She reads in silence for a while, lips drawn, brows furrowed. Then, quick as a flash, she's standing up from her seat, and backhands the terminal like a superhero shouting about dead parents, yelling "MONSTERS!"

The computer barely budges, let alone reacts in as satisfying a way as she no doubt intended, and she holds her injured hand muttering obscenities. Butch jumps forward, taking her hand to examine it. She's the doctor's kid, and there's no much he can do, so luckily it's just a nasty bruise. "Jesus, babe, what did you think that would do?"

"Those idiots were trying to turn them into super soldiers! Evil bastards. Goddamn fucking morons! Barbarians! Vault-Tec shit-for-brains mad fucking scientists! How dare they? HOW DARE THEY??!"

"Look, calm the fuck down, they're all two hundred years dead." He lets go of her hand to put his hands on her shoulders. She looks up into his eyes, her expression one of fury.

"Not dead enough for me."

"Well I don't know how you can kill a guy twice, so maybe simmer down." She takes a deep breath and shrugs him off.

"Let's just get out of here." she says, turning to leave.

He hasn't seen her this angry since they ran across that Enclave patrol, and he knows that was personal. This, however, this he just doesn't understand.

"You're one crazy chick, you know that?"

"Are you a religious man, Butch?"

The question takes him so off-guard he nearly trips over Dogmeat. What's up with him and tripping today?

"Am I what? Doll, I ain't never met a god that was real. Anyone out there who says they still believe in the old man is either a kook or a swindler. No god ever done me any favors."

"My mother was religious."

Fuck. He walked into that one.

"Are you?"

"Oh, not at all." Butch breathes a secret sigh of relief, and she continues."But... I can understand why it's important to people. Knowing someone out there loves you, and cares about you... I can see why it's appealing. Sometimes, that's all you need to live."

He's not so sure if that's the attraction to the Church of Atom, or for any of the cults in the Wasteland. "Sounds like a pretty shitty replacement for a girlfriend."

"Hah, yeah, I guess some people do try to make religion fill the same emotional needs as romantic love. I don't think that's wise, or fair, but who am I to judge? Were you thinking of Diego in Rivet City?"

Butch is still mystified, but he nods, recalling the idiot who said he would 'soon be married to God'. What dumbass turns down a pretty girl like Angela just to spend the rest of his life being a great big buzzkill?

"Toni, what is this about?" Where the hell is she going with this? She's all over the place.

"It's hard to explain. What makes life worth living for you, Butch?"

"Huh?"

They're on their way out the door. Toni pauses to close the Vault door on their way out. The dog is waiting impatiently at the mouth of the cave.

"The world is shit. Every day we wake up, we drink from a constantly dwindling supply of clean water, we eat pre-packaged food that was made 200 years ago, and THAT supply is constantly dwindling too, we go out and we do horrible things to survive. It's kill or be killed out there, so we kill, and then we wade through the blood and the guts to loot the bodies, so we can sell dead people's things for caps. Everything we use once belonged to a person who's dead now, from the guns to the food to the clothes on our backs. We're lucky enough to have a house in Megaton, so we're not homeless, and survival isn't as difficult as it could be, but it's just surviving. It's not living. Just... killing time until your heart or some other essential part of your body gives out and you can no longer function. Sooner or later, people must get tired of just surviving. What's the point? Life is painful. There were days when I just wanted to give up and sit in the bomb pool until my bones turned to sludge. But I didn't, because I have things to do, and things that make life worth living. So what's yours, Butch?"

Butch has been lost from the beginning of this conversation, and he's got no idea how to answer her question. There was a time when he'd automatically have answered 'Tunnel Snakes' without really thinking about it. He'd like to give her a serious answer, but he's not entirely sure he knows it.

"That's fucking dark, babe. This what it's like being in your head?"

"Nah, it's all sunshine and bunnies normally." she rolls her eyes, and he's glad she's back to snarking at him. "I'll tell you mine, then. Music."

No, she's back to lecturing. This might be the first time she's ever talked so much in one go, and if he had the time, there's a lot he'd like to unpack. Like wait, what was that she said about her bones turning to sludge? The very thought scares the shit out of him. He should not be afraid for her life three times in one day.

"What do you think makes us different from animals? It's culture. Civilization. Art. All the stuff that gets destroyed or set aside when your life is threatened and you have to just survive. That's why what Three Dog does is so important. He's not just Fighting the Good Fight. He's keeping culture alive. He's keeping music alive. Maybe one day we'll have rebuilt enough that we can have singers like Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday again, but it won't happen if we forget who they were. Music makes people happy and there are so few things in this world that do."

"You really think one day this'll all be rebuilt?" Butch is a little skeptical on that subject. Most people are just in it for themselves, and when it comes down to it, they don't need much. Beer, jet, or cigarettes, they'll happily dose themselves to oblivion somehow. That's his take on it, anyway. The world is so fucked, how can anyone think they might change it? But Toni clearly does.

"Some day the salisbury steak will run out, and we'll have to figure out ways of making new stuff again." she says, completely positive. "And once we've figured that out, there'll be a place for musicians and artists again. And they'll mostly have to learn from scratch, because some fucking pea-brained short-sighted pearls-before-swine motherfucking MORONS at Vault-Tec decided to test subliminal combat conditioning meant for fucking super-soldiers on the finest musical minds of their age!"

She's squeezing the violin case tightly in her arms as she walks, her knuckles white. "Hey, careful with that case!" Butch says.

"Oh, sorry." she replies, loosening her grip. "Anyway, I'm so glad you understand, Butch. Because that's why we're going to give this back to Agatha for free!"