The Mojave heat was getting to everyone. Around this time of year in the dead middle of October, the breeze hadn't come in at all. A sunken pain was felt as caravans crossed through the Mojave Outpost but weren't granted access out.

Cass was no exception, a fair woman in her late 30s. She had received word through passing caravans to rangers that the remains of Cassidy Caravans were burnt to ash. In her head, they had to have been Legion. Yet, no sight of them that far into New Vegas was seen. Perhaps Fiends? Yet, they usually keep to themselves unless if someone gets close to their territory.

She was just tapping her hands there, drinking away her sorrows with the burning liquid of whiskey. She could smell the unholy stench of the dirty soldiers that passed by her. The smoke from the pipes of soldiers who were using Opium to reduce the pain and get them into a sense of clarity.

She felt disgusted being here, and with the door swinging open and seeing a figure out from the wild, wild west walk in was something she'd expected. So, she moved her head up and raised an eyebrow towards them.

"Looking for trouble?" She simply asks, the grip on her glass still tightened.