Synth Victoriam

As timid or, more accurately, uncertain as the Miss-Nanny-turned-synth could be, she was surprisingly forward as she approached Danse. 

“I ‘ave a question for you,” She began, looking up at the Brotherhood of Steel paladin. “You know Monsieur Nate has asked me to accompany the two of you as well, oui? And I ‘eard you two are going to visit a Brotherhood controlled settlement. I need to know: are you going to sell me out as a synth or non?” 

As timid or, more accurately, uncertain as the Miss-Nanny-turned-synth could be, she was surprisingly forward as she approached Danse. 

“I ‘ave a question for you,” She began, looking up at the Brotherhood of Steel paladin. “You know Monsieur Nate has asked me to accompany the two of you as well, oui? And I ‘eard you two are going to visit a Brotherhood controlled settlement. I need to know: are you going to sell me out as a synth or non?” 

She'd given this her best shot, hadn't she? At what point did this become a sunk cost fallacy? The synth gathered her supplies, with a good portion of them gone, used up in the weeks she'd spent here, it was just another sign to leave and recoup rations and even ammo.

The scientist slung her pack over her shoulders, heading out of the home she'd been taking shelter in, freezing in the doorway at the sound of fighting. Perhaps...she could wait it out, there was no sense in her running headlong to her death when it was likely some raiders running into a pack of ferals. The synth shut the door, remaining in the building. The fighting lasted much longer than she'd expected, whatever they had been shooting at had put up one hell of a fight.

The synth waited a few minutes before heading out, hurrying along the shadows and sticking close to walls to avoid being seen. It was only when she came across a few blood splatters--obviously recent from the way they hadn't even coagulated yet--that her pace slowed. The woman looked around, careful to stay quiet up until she spotted someone--a man, and he definitely looked nothing like a raider.

Throwing caution to the wind the synth hurried over to him. "Oh my," Curie breathed, practically throwing off her pack to retrieve her medical supplies. "Are you still with me, Monsieur?" She questioned, voice soft as she looked over the damage.

“That’s exactly how that works.” he threw aside the dead ghoul he’d finished off, glancing around for any more before turning to the bite one had landed on his arm. “Guns work a little better on ghouls than brute force. You’re not going to do much.”

"So is the unnecessary bravado a paladin thing or a guy thing because I need to know how to tackle this nonsense exactly." Veronica would have rolled her eyes if the situation hadn't been so serious; for now, biting sarcasm would have to do.

"Yeah, your guns worked super well, that's why you need a patch job." Veronica grimaced at the bite, "Lucky for you, Big Guy, I have some Radaway on hand. I'm no doc, but I can do that much."

She glanced around as well, she'd need to make this quick in case any ferals were still around and decided they wanted to play too. For the moment it looked clear, so the ex-scribe slung her pack off of her shoulders and dug around for the Radaway, and a bit of gauze. A mediocre patch job was better than nothing.

He’d seen the former paladin around Sanctuary, but it was clear avoidance on either side. Still, Nick couldn’t help his curiosity, or his friendly streak. Next time Danse passed by where he sat on a lawn table, Nick pushed the other chair out with his foot.

Goodneighbor afternoons were a lul in customers for Kay, the few people who wake up early have already stopped in and the evening crowd for dinner and deserts not coming in till much later in the day he usually spent this time baking or reading the paper. It’s because of this that he looks up in surprise when he hears the soft jingle of the bell indicating that a customer had entered. He emerges from the back room to see a man he’d never seen before looking sort of lost.