“I’ll take it. Brooks Moreland, for reference sake.” he replied, offering the man a nod as he pushed himself away from the bar, picking up his hat off the counter. “Hop along- and leave the bottle opener,” he scowled down at Abigail. Abigail grumbled as she fished the bottle opener out of her pocket and slammed it onto the bar, kicking her legs out to swing off the barstool and follow Brooks out of the casino.

The streets outside had finally begun to busy themselves as the two stepped out, Brooks placed his hat back atop his head, voicing down to Abigail, “We taking bets on where this guys holed up?”

Abigail shrugged her shoulders, still idly holding onto Brooks’ coat. “I mean, we better take a look at the Imperial first, but I’d rather not go in until we’ve scouted the surrounding area out. Who knows what weird shit that guy’s been paid to do, and if it’s a casino, walking in and out every few minutes will just annoy the bodyguards.” She took an inquisitive look at all of the dusty, half-awake thugs stumbling around the streets of New Reno hopefully. “Besides, with your keen eyes and his ‘propa’ appearance, he’ll stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this.”

“A yes or no would have been enough,” he stared her down.

“Hey, I thought it’d be a bit more useful than a bible verse about gambling,” replied Abigail smoothly. She grinned up at him.

Brooks grumbled, “Alright. Imperial it is.” And with that the two set off to the Imperial. Lavish and sophisticated, it set itself apart from the other casinos in terms of décor but is clearly dwarfed by the size and majesty of the Shark Club. Brooks squinted at the derelict building, heavily adorned with lights and decorations to accompany the big sign. Like the Shark Club, there were two bulky men stationed outside the main door who squinted back at him.

Abigail yawned as she was patted down, rolling her eyes as her bodyguard got a bit more rough than he should’ve been. Luckily they didn’t seem to care enough to ask questions about her age and weren’t smart enough to give her a thorough check; she doubted either of them would find the little things she kept concealed on her person. It was routine practice - Abigail vaguely remembered a time where she used to smuggle chems through the streets before she fell too deep into her own addiction. It was one of her few useful qualities and Brooks made good use of it; he liked to keep a weapon on him at all times, even when some dim-witted guy in a dusty suit took his guns and knife at the door.

Things in the Imperial weren’t quite as shiny at they were at the Shark Club, but Brooks idly tapped Abigail’s wrist when she reached out for a fork on one of the tables. She made a few hostile grumbles before rather violently and deliberately shoving both hands in her pockets, glowering down at the floor instead of looking for the man they were meant to be searching for. 

Rolling his eyes at Abigail’s little act, Brooks briefly spotted the exact girl, still clad in her vault overall, sat at a table across a sharply dressed man. Curiously narrowing his eyes, Brooks lifts a beckoning finger to one of the waiters, his elbow bumping into the grumpy Abigail. “Look who it is.”

Abigail didn’t even seem to care that much when she idly glanced up and spotted the target, shrugging her shoulders. Her tone of voice was nonchalant, but the words carried a different meaning, “You’re terrible at the whole ‘spying’ thing, you know that right? Are we getting something to eat?” Abigail grabbed a menu without bothering to ask Brooks, settling into one of the worn chairs. The moment the waiter arrived, she cheerily asked for “One Wasteland omelet and a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, please!” knowing full well that she picked two of the most expensive things on the menu. She leant back against the chair contentedly, flashing another one of her cheeky grins at Brooks. “Wonder what they’re talking about,” she commented placidly.

Brooks stared at Abigail, knowing she ordered the most expensive batch out of menu out of some form of spite. “Water for me, please.” he’d nod dismissively as the waiter walked off to get their orders. Shifting his gaze back onto the couple sat ahead of them, Brooks ignored Abigail's question as he lightly shifted in his seat as the well dressed man seemingly stood up to hurry off to something. “That’s gotta’ be him, mhrm.” he settled himself back into a slouched back state in his chair, patiently waiting for the man’s return.