Feral ghouls. Lots of good ammo spent on fending them off.

Need mentats? Having… a sale.

Then you should… focus.

Rule of… the wasteland.

My, what a long pause. “That is good to hear… Would you like a box of sugar bombs? Free and unopened.”

Oh, the little one. He did his best to crouch down, trying to appear less… scary. “Chemicals. Not for you… unless you’re hurt.” Stims and Radaway. He was a businessman, not a chem dealer.

“I got… chems for sale.”

Discount… on summer clothes.

“It gets too cold… can’t stay awake in the cold.” It was embarrassing, the mutation reminding him and everyone else that he was no longer human.

“The baker… Cienn. How are you? Been safe?”

“Happy…. Spring.”

“I am…. Awake.” Not to see how much of his stock was stolen during his nap.

He stirs.

The cold had him practically catatonic. Despite his best efforts to repair the ship, the cold snuck inside like a thief.

He is at the gate with the remaining winter coats he has.

Lotta noise coming from their camp, but it doesn’t sound like fighting. Is he brave enough to check it out?

He’s safely in his own boat. Drama free.

Safe travels.

He has some for sale… but it is a walk.

The horse is the distraction he needed. He’s going home.

“What the fuck was that?”

“It is getting easier to speak. Tirum… he helped me.” Though he was still a talking crab. Take the victories where you could get them. “You seem very happy.”

“Sheesh. Burns.” He looks down at the man, eyes studying him. “Good names.” Why was this guy being so nice to him? What was his game?

He would reciprocate the toast, drinking it in one gulp. God, shit burned. “What… was that?”

This was odd, but it was nice to have someone here that seemed pleased to seem him. “One drink,” he called out after the hunter.

“Yes… I do. And I smell it. It smells… good.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you… glad to be here.”

“…hello.” He gives a small wave. This is weird. He shouldn’t be here. A quick glance at the door reveals his intention.

He steps into the bar… Awkward.

Your blood or…?

… thank you. You are kind. I like… your dress.

Haven’t gone in… Don’t want to spoil the fun.

He’s awkwardly standing outside the bar, listening to the sounds. Social anxiety go brrrr.

A grand-opening. He didn’t think he’d ever been. Perhaps he would go… just for a few.

the what

He wished that settlement had a scientist or a doctor… Someone who might be able to help. It was getting worse.

//forcing you to look at percy's armor

me.

Do not… fuck with… FEV.

Thank you… :)

I think… I am… the prettiest. (He’s joking.)

didn’t know vault dwellers were chill like that

… Sugar Bombs are good.

Cold.

Ah, he was never one for the spotlight. “…Not a mirelurk.” Not fully.

“…Yes.” At least, as far as he could remember. “…got a boat from there, came here. Rivers…”

Yeah, he got that a lot. At least this guy didn’t open fire. “…yeah.” The mirelurk was a creature of few words, it seemed.

Ah, multiple new people. “Hello…” he wheezed, giving an awkward wave. He hadn’t interacted with this many new people in a long time.