[The warm, wet edge of that steel is difficult to ignore laying against his cheekbone, but the other man's words still somehow cuts even deeper and drags him from his floundering water. Voice low and slow like the slide of a skinning knife, digging under the skin with a fistful ready to strip it away. Compelled to look, Benny's gaze finds itself darting to his face. "Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face. But I ain't a fink, dig?" Looking into those flinty brown eyes, and not for the first time, Benny finds himself regretting some of the things he's said out loud.]
Why?
[Benny, formerly known as Gecko, lets out a half-hiccup of an incredulous laugh, insulted too. It's the last nail in just how clueless this cat is, what kind of big-leagues he's been unwittingly dragged into. What a question. What a damn question.]
You were holdin' Vegas in your hand, and you didn't even know it. You were just some courier. Some dirt-dusty gopher!
[That's the long and short of it. He had it, and Benny needed it. But desperate to keep the rest of his digits - and his life - and finding no purchase with his remaining nine, he starts singing like a canary in hopes that his song's sweet enough to let him live.]
I - look, House spent hundreds of thousands of caps looking for this piece of platinum. He wants it bad. It's the House edge, his trump card he's been wanting to play this entire time. It's data, what's in it. And I - I know it has to do with his army of securitrons. He's gonna use it to pull the rug out from everyone when the time's right. The NCR, the Legion... The whole Mojave will be his.
[Benny watches Leonard's face for any hint of which way the wind is blowing, but he's got a hell of a poker face. Anything to fill the silence as if it'll keep out other thoughts from the man's head, he begins to sing even sweeter.]
You can take it from House. You can run Vegas from the top of the Lucky 38, [he urges, a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck.] No more walking across the desert for scraps and caps, how's that idea? But only the right instrument can make that platinum sing. It's a proprietary format, one-of-a-kind. I can bring you backstage, baby. Make you the star of the show! Just you wait until we get back, dig? You can even hold onto it right now if you like...
no subject
Why?
[Benny, formerly known as Gecko, lets out a half-hiccup of an incredulous laugh, insulted too. It's the last nail in just how clueless this cat is, what kind of big-leagues he's been unwittingly dragged into. What a question. What a damn question.]
You were holdin' Vegas in your hand, and you didn't even know it. You were just some courier. Some dirt-dusty gopher!
[That's the long and short of it. He had it, and Benny needed it. But desperate to keep the rest of his digits - and his life - and finding no purchase with his remaining nine, he starts singing like a canary in hopes that his song's sweet enough to let him live.]
I - look, House spent hundreds of thousands of caps looking for this piece of platinum. He wants it bad. It's the House edge, his trump card he's been wanting to play this entire time. It's data, what's in it. And I - I know it has to do with his army of securitrons. He's gonna use it to pull the rug out from everyone when the time's right. The NCR, the Legion... The whole Mojave will be his.
[Benny watches Leonard's face for any hint of which way the wind is blowing, but he's got a hell of a poker face. Anything to fill the silence as if it'll keep out other thoughts from the man's head, he begins to sing even sweeter.]
You can take it from House. You can run Vegas from the top of the Lucky 38, [he urges, a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck.] No more walking across the desert for scraps and caps, how's that idea? But only the right instrument can make that platinum sing. It's a proprietary format, one-of-a-kind. I can bring you backstage, baby. Make you the star of the show! Just you wait until we get back, dig? You can even hold onto it right now if you like...