[He is funny only sometimes. As he says it, he moves to try and chew off the string — clearly to no avail. Apparently made out of impenetrable twine; would make a killing selling it in the wastelands. Whatever the case... seems like they're heading to the same place, anyway. Better to just carry it along and let it play out whatever ridiculous effect it's under.
He explains that to her, as they go. The impossible things that will likely be hard to explain: the 'magic', the robots, the inhuman beings. Buildings that come and go, and missions that will sooner than later drag her into them — 'optional' of course, but he doesn't sound very convinced of it as he says it. Aurora probably explained some to her, too. Enough to not be entirely lost. But a wastelander wants to know everything. Be prepared. It's probably the most he's ever talked in the time she's known him, though that's not saying much; he still speaks little, every sentence carefully brief, as if he's trying to save his energy.
(For what, he's never sure.)
When they finally arrive on the outskirts, where the sparse trees in the city evolve into a thick expanse of treetop, he takes note of the remnants of snow. He's so used to never knowing what season it is — it kind of throws him off-guard.]
Won't be as thick. Still coming back from the, ah. Winter.
[As he speaks, he reaches into his pack and pulls out an apple to offer her. It's ripe and nice, don't worry. This one's not from the dumpster. He just figures she should eat, since he's already been stuffing his face this entire time.]
no subject
Was waiting for you first.
[He is funny only sometimes. As he says it, he moves to try and chew off the string — clearly to no avail. Apparently made out of impenetrable twine; would make a killing selling it in the wastelands. Whatever the case... seems like they're heading to the same place, anyway. Better to just carry it along and let it play out whatever ridiculous effect it's under.
He explains that to her, as they go. The impossible things that will likely be hard to explain: the 'magic', the robots, the inhuman beings. Buildings that come and go, and missions that will sooner than later drag her into them — 'optional' of course, but he doesn't sound very convinced of it as he says it. Aurora probably explained some to her, too. Enough to not be entirely lost. But a wastelander wants to know everything. Be prepared. It's probably the most he's ever talked in the time she's known him, though that's not saying much; he still speaks little, every sentence carefully brief, as if he's trying to save his energy.
(For what, he's never sure.)
When they finally arrive on the outskirts, where the sparse trees in the city evolve into a thick expanse of treetop, he takes note of the remnants of snow. He's so used to never knowing what season it is — it kind of throws him off-guard.]
Won't be as thick. Still coming back from the, ah. Winter.
[As he speaks, he reaches into his pack and pulls out an apple to offer her. It's ripe and nice, don't worry. This one's not from the dumpster. He just figures she should eat, since he's already been stuffing his face this entire time.]