It was as if Sten was trying to gain Scout's approval. Against her presumptions, the merc put his foot down and gave the Lone Atom a stern talking-to; if Scout didn't intervene when she did, there could've been a full-blown argument in Bob's Bayou Bar (and Flophouse). Some strange little emotion pressed feebly against her wall of jet-infused indifference, and as she peered down at the gas-mask for any sign of emotion, she realised that she might have felt a little bad if the mysterious Lone Atom got upset. After all, he seemed to be trying to do his best. Still, what did she care? When did she ever care for anyone aside from herself?
The trip, as she imagined, was boring and uneventful. Trekking through the murky wastelands in relative silence, Scout almost forgot she had two other people with her. Only twice did she hum to herself, quietly - a few notes from a song long forgotten. She didn't imagine the other two were listening too intently, but either way Scout shut up after a few seconds because she was too busy waiting for the next godawful beast to leap out of her. When the trio arrived at the settlement unharmed, Scout blinked a couple of times in surprise - that didn't happen often, at least not to her.
The motel made her feel sick to the stomach - it was always the case with pre-war buildings, she always got...distressed around them. Scout bit her lip and clenched her fist as the word 'Jet' popped in her head again; she resolved to have some later, when they weren't in the middle of negotiations and surrounded by needy, frail settlers. It almost disgusted her how they hid away in their safe motel and clung to the notion that one wall could separate them from all of the horrors of the wasteland, but whenever Scout looked at them, she simply saw nameless, unimportant people. Like looking at a herd of Brahmin; none of them stood out and none of them really struck a chord with Scout. It was as if they didn't exist.
Jed struck a chord with Scout though, just not the right one. She hated people who stared. After narrowing her eyes and pulling the corners of her lips down a little in response to the gawping, the door was fully opened and the trio were allowed in. Scout listened to Jed blunder his way through the story, vaguely wondering when he'd get to the important part - the caps. When she found out the price, Scout did some quick maths; assuming Sten was as fair as he was grouchy, that'd make 100 each, maybe a bit less if he cuts some off for repairs, ammunition costs, the like. The 'little extra' needed to be considered; Scout didn't think they'd be able to pull any more caps out of their pockets if they tried, so perhaps around 25 extra - from the lot of them - then split again...that was around 8 caps going her way. Pocket change. So, in short, the life of Sam Keyes was worth around 8 caps and that's not worth enough in Scout's eyes. She saw Sten's nonverbal 'what-do-you-think' stare and responded with a blank, unreadable look. He didn't need to know what she thought, so instead she simply shifted her weight a little to denote that she was ready to leave if they were. She never said yes or no, that was up to Sten to decide to take the offer. However, why wasn't he-...? Scout shot him a questioning look, then let loose a light sigh and took the lead - again. "Where are these raiders and how many do you think there are?" she asked, then shot a look at Sten. Better to know what you're running into before you take the money, in her opinion.
100 caps, give or take...not enough for Jet, but plenty for a meal, and maybe enough to pay for a night in a bed. Hardly the best wage in the world, but a reasonable one. What she was more interested in was how Sten would split it out, because that's what really mattered. Scout looked around the motel room and became acutely aware of the tightening in her chest - damn pre-war buildings - and then glanced down at the Lone Atom. She wondered if he'd be so bold as to ask for more than what he's getting paid for.