Arlington glanced up when Simon reached towards her crayons and paper. She had just been reaching for her cerulean so that she could add some deeper tints to her river. Her hand disappears though, retreating in the half-second after it brushed his fingertip. The redhead knew that Simon either didn't like being touched or just plain wasn't used to it, unless it was sleeptime, so she tried not to touch him unless she needed his attention or to rescue him from marauding prostitutes. Her attention is drawn down to the corner he drew in and she shifted a bit, half leaning across Mary so that she could scoot her paper closer to Simon and let him draw too. All of her crayons are pushed towards him as well. He was welcome to color with her, so long as he didn't try to keep her crayons. Even she might shoot a mutha for that.
Her bright gaze moved from the paper to Mary, offering her another little patpat on the hand, it'd be okay, whatever was going on. The others would get her straightened out. She had no way of offering to the conversation, no way of describing her job, of how she was a wastelands messenger of awesomeness. Oh, that reminded her, she had a something in her bag. She rose briefly and disappeared for a moment into the backroom after giving a series of knocks. She came back out with a grin and a key. Seems like she had a message for Moriarty for whenever she was in town and he had repaid her with giving her a room key for while she was in town. Hey, didn't cost him any caps and she was happy to accept it as payment. She'd probably end up having to share her room with Mary and Simon but that was okay.
"It ain't real regulah," Jericho said, "But yah'd covah yah rent n'food f'awhile. I made enough t'keep that all goin' plus drinkin' an'... an' some extra shit," he paused to take a shot, "Ain't really been doin' much a'that since I ran inta this one, though."
He motioned to Ceara with his head, smirking, and reached out to gently tug some of her hair. She'd had him all over the Wasteland the second goddamn day he'd known her. It'd been that fast, he realized, that she'd taken a liking to him in spite of who he was. Jericho gave her a funny sort of look before he came back to himself - now really wasn't the time for introspection.
"Yah'd be bettah off doin' caravan's f'awhile anyway," he suggested, pouring himself shot number... he'd lost count. But he was drinking steadily and didn't seem to be feeling any ill effects yet, "Get yahself bettah outfitted. 'Round here it's pretty mercenary, yah bring t'th'fight whatya got."
Jericho patted the Chinese assault rifle leaning against the wall near him. It looked worn, but there was a gleam to it that said it's owner took very, very good care of it.
"Yah prolly ain't gonna wanna stick 'round here, n'less yah settlin' down a'somethin'," he said, "Rivet City's got bettah work. If yah ain't gonna jes' g'back t'yah vault."
While Jericho went on and on about work, and he was rather exhausting his knowledge on the subject, Mary tentatively selected a crayon at random. Red. She shifted her jaw, not wanting to ruin whatever it was Arlington was doing. Though the redhead was very pleasant-natured so far, she didn't want to be the one that made her snap. She hesitantly made a very, very small mark while Arlington was away, right next to where Simon had made a swatch of blue. Well that was... not really her thing. Mary set it down and put her hands back in her lap. Everyone at the table seemed to have some sort of marketable skill, and caps were the currency of this world, so she'd... have to find some sort of job. People had jobs in the vault, of course, but hers hadn't required her to do anything but continue breathing.
She wanted to ask if someone with more technical skills could find work, but she could barely understand Jericho's bizarre drawl. Nobody else talked like that, at least not that she'd met. Mary queued it up on her list of things she would not be brave enough to ask tonight.