Jericho was far smarter and more cunning than he gave himself credit for. One day she'd get that through his thick skull, but that was likely a long time in the making. The girl exhaled a soft breath and then looked down at the weapon. "Pity we didn't keep the one we got in the penthouse." she muttered, then shrugged and smiled as Jericho's pronouncement seemed to be fairly inexpensive. She could certainly loan Simon fifteen caps to get his weapon repaired before they headed out. It might be her own ass she'd be saving by doing so, or Jericho's. She was rather fond of both staying intact.
Her glittering gaze turned back to Mary and the wince, she arced a brow and then exhaled a small sigh. Yeah, this wasn't going to go very well. What in the fucking hell was the Overseer thinking booting some of these people out on their asses without so much as a radroach chance in hell of surviving. She shook her head again, it was sad but she wasn't sure what she could do about it other than help Mary get to Rivet City where they might take in strays. "Well, if you don't think a gun or a knife are your thing, you can talk to the people that run the power plant here, or you can go into prostitution maybe." She shrugged, pretty sure that Mary would take the former option especially with how she kept reacting to even the light touches that the other four shared.
"I'm a special case." Simon replied, taking the rifle back and setting it back down where it had been. The price was reasonable enough, considering he still had a rather large chunk left over from the slavers. Three hundred caps was probably going to last him a lot longer than he'd originally thought. "I think I can swing that much though. I'm assuming they have ammunition too?"
When Simon moved back to continue his drawing, he frowned like a disgruntled five-year-old, seeing that his crayon had disappeared. He stared at the space he'd left it, then leaned back in his chair to make sure it hadn't rolled onto the floor before resituating himself. Instead of lingering on disappointment, he moved to grab his glass again, getting himself reacquainted with the liquid inside. At the word 'prostitution', his eyes turned to Ceara over the edge of the glass as he drank, though he wasn't about to put it down to counter that statement with anything, mostly because nothing was really coming to mind. Liquor really wasn't so bad.
Arlington was just keeping her work-space neat. If things weren't put away in the wastelands, they tended to be lost or stolen. She shifted the box back towards Simon when he wanted to draw some more and then smiled at her own still empty glass. She was not drunk in the least and that was the rule, better have a refill. Her glass was pushed towards the others to fill it again.
She shifted to look, wide-eyed at Ceara whens he suggests prostitution. Who would suggest such a thing? Of course, Arlington doesn't know that Ceara actually considered it herself to make a boatload of caps to get her started.