Joe the Pimp

Well the last few days have gone swimmingly, and everything is coming up Joe.
Since I’m feeling so flush, with both success and caps, I figure I should get something for Veronica to show my appreciation. Something to compliment her shockingly fashionable hat. It’s not an easy job picking something out for her… I want something that’ll be useful if we ever go back on the road, but also something she’ll wear. And even though she said she wanted a new dress, she never wears any of the ones I’ve brought back to the stall.
I settle on some shockingly unfashionable goggles. Veronica seems to like them and they’ll be useful if we ever head out into the desert together again.

No, those googles don't make your head look big.

No, those goggles don't make your head look big.

Shopping done, I stop by the Follower’s fort to pickup daily free med. Can’t have too many stimpacks!
The Followers don’t seem to have any other jobs for me, so I figure I should ask the Garrets over at the Wrangler if there is anything else I could help with.
Francine just reminds me about the debtor I promised to track down in the Strip. But I can’t get in there yet.
Francine might not be any use, but her brother James has a proposition for me. Apparently there are a number of… let’s just call them ‘companions for hire’… working at the Wrangler. But they’ve had a few more… ‘specific’ requests from some of the clients.

Last time he asked about this I figured that it was outside of ol’ Joe’s area of expertise. But lately Joe’s been on a roll hiring out his services, so maybe this job will pay off for me too.
Besides, after roughing up poor people and ‘taking out’ undesirable elements, what’s a little pimping?

Dirty deeds... done dirt cheap.

Dirty deeds... done dirt cheap.

I agree to seek out some ‘specialist companions’, but when I hear the specifics I wonder if perhaps I was better off not knowing.
The first specialist they are looking for is a good-looking suave talker who can offer a ‘boyfriend’ experience. That’s pretty normal… I mean, it’s not how Joe rolls, but nothing too shocking.
The next specialist is a robot. Now, I’m a pretty open-minded guy, but have you seen robots? Seriously? You may as well look for a little tenderness from a toaster oven.
And the last specialist James wants me to find is a ghoul. A ghoul who is also a cowboy. Now, I guess ghouls need love too… but there is something about the ‘cowboy’ specification that shifts this request from ‘unusual’ to ‘just-a-little-sinister’.

Well, personal opinions aside, I have a job to do and I best get to it.
As it turns out I already know where to find a ghoul cowboy. Despite the oddly specific request, I was speaking to a ghoul cowboy just this morning when I went to pickup my free meds from the Followers.
Beatrix Russell is working guard duty over at the Fort. The real question is… how do I convince her to leave her guard gig and take up a career as ‘companion for hire’?

Errr... you're a lovely flower. Really.

Errr... you're a lovely flower. Really.

Turns out that Beatrix loves drinking… which is fairly ironic since the Follower’s fort bans alcohol (which is fair enough considering that they are essentially a rehab). Her love of drink, and it’s current unavailability, are my way in… so to speak.

Like any naughty girl... you just have to get her a drink.

Like any naughty girl... you just have to get her a drink.

Now, for the suave talker…
Santiago, the swindler who owed the Garrets money was pretty suave. But he was also a bit of a dick. Also, I’ve recently threatened him with bodily violence, so he’s not likely to take my advances well.
Luckily, I have a backup in mind. Up by where I found ‘Lady’ Jane there was a charming older chap. He seemed like a good sort, and was fairly friendly back when Joe was originally denied entry from the Strip. When I first meet him he warned me not to go to the gate of the Strip without first talking with the gatekeeper Securitron first, or I’d get vaporized.

Now… how to convince him? After further questioning, he tells Joe that he used to be in many jobs, such as a bodyguard, male escort, a gun-for-hire, as well as a butcher. The good kind of butcher… not the bad kind.
So he’s been a ‘companion’ before… Perfect. But not so perfect – because he left it after finding it an empty and unfulfilling existence. Bummer, dude.

I guess I'll just take some sea snails.

So... got any She-Johns lined up for Tonight?

Not being one to give up easily Joe tells Old Ben that he is looking at this all wrong. Ben’s not just a piece of meat, he’s an artist. The dawn of someone’s brand new day. The sunshine of their lives. He can be the wind beneath their wings. The moon to their stars. And he can be the light at the end of someone’s tunnel… by shoving things into the end of someone’s tunnel.

That apparently wins him over and he agrees to start work.
Am I an inspirational speaker or am I a soulless wretch? Is there a difference?

And that brings us to the last request… the sex bot. Where the hell can I find a sexbot?
I forget about visiting the Crimson Caravan company altogether – they’ve been no help for anything thus far. Instead I head over to Mick and Ralph’s pawn shop – they’ve been helpful in the past.

Err... it's for a friend.

Err... it's for a friend.

Sadly it’s not going to be as easy as just buying one. But Mick is able to point me in the possible direction of a standard robot… and then offers to write a program for it.
Downside? It’s going to cost 150 caps and will take some time for him to write.

Drat. Well, I suppose I’ve done enough wondering about for one day anyhow. And with water and daily free drugs on offer just passing time is no longer a constant drain on my cap supply.
I figure I’ll give myself the afternoon off and head over to the Wrangler for a few drinks. James is kind enough to pay 200 caps for the two folk I’ve already recruited for him, so I feel a ‘few’ drinks have been well-earned.

Turns out that Bill Ronte isn’t the only one with an addiction to whiskey.

My, my, my, my slow descent into alcoholism it went. Something like this...

My. My. My, my slow descent
Into alcoholism it went.
Something like this...OOOoooo

Double Drat.

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