* WASTE / LANDERS

of course, he says nothing, pulls the closest chair under himself and takes a seat besides the cell. rifle is pulled into his lap, gaze mellowed on his friend. if she wanted to get out of there, she would have to do better than THAT. rat knew she could. 

❝ — ach, all wastelanders are so DISGUSTING ... ❞ he tries to sympathise with their plights, ( truly ), but there were occasions where his vault grown sentiments of the world simply couldn’t be avoided. obviously, this was one of them. he’s hardly got his gaze locked on mitsunari, more the sword that’s tucked away at his side. rasmus extends a digit towards the blunt weapon, arms remaining crossed upon chest. ❝ have you any idea how foul such a thing must be with use? why, any gun would be a far cleaner option for the user, i assure you. ❞ the dentist had learned in due time that people out here do not care much for sanitation, yet he couldn’t seem to let this one slip by unannounced. ❝ god only knows how many diseases that thing is coated with now. ❞

❝ — it’s a COMPLETELY balanced meal, ain’t nothin’ wrong with it. ❞ of course, he means from anything but a moral standpoint. quinn couldn’t bring himself to care much about the rights and wrongs of society with his olden age, ( and found that a fresh corpse wasn’t so bad after all ). the vault dweller doesn’t appear to agree with him, to the man’s own bemusement. he juts an index finger toward his makeshift fire, thrown together in the literal heat of the moment when he decided now was the time to eat. ❝ look, you’re lucky i ain’t doin’ much, much worse right now. why don’t you sit the fuck down for a bit, have some dinner. ❞ he’s teasing with his words, but his expression hardly shifts to display this as the case. ❝ actually, i’m tellin’ you. don’t sit, an’ we’re gonna’ have a fuckin’ issue on our hands, vault boy. i like it when the ncr doesn’t know of my shit. ❞

❝ — murder is legal long as they’re an ASSHOLE, so i don’t see an issue. ❞ rocko may coin himself as a lawman, but his sense of typical wasteland justice wasn’t exactly palatable. in fact, he would appear more than willing to aid his companion in his efforts to rid the poor settlement they discuss of its raider problem, gives a proud pat to the pistol at upon his hip. revolvers were a little dated in this day and age, ( perhaps by a few hundred year or so at this point in time ), but keeping the laughable aesthetic of western gunslinging was in the child’s repertoire. ❝ i’m way more than capable of doin’ this job myself, but it ain’t gonna’ hurt to have a lil’ help! y’er jus’ lucky y’a got here when y’a did, ‘cause i may have already cleared the fellers out by now without y’a! let's jus' rush 'em already, i wanna' blow some skulls in f'r the honour of america's upstandin' laws! ❞

hand drops back to his side at the insistence, resting idly upon his hip now. ❝ — i vill be zure to tell our dear boris, zen. ❞ doc isn’t too sure where that man gets his money, if he’s honest. perhaps off the CORPSES of those he mows down through the wastes. ❝ ja, ja, zat i am! zee name is doc! — and i am to azzume you prefer rainey, yes? i have heard plenty about you from bo. ah, and i zuppoze vazteland tales, too. ❞ he extends a smile, steeples fingers together, ❝ you are one to cauze quite zee ztir! i love zat !! i have been vondering ven i vould get to meet you myzelf! ❞

rifle is slung over his shoulder once more, enunciated bob of his head given in response. gaze falters, falls to the extended extremity for a fleeting second before rat gives it an accompanying shake. yes, raiders, an INFURIATINGLY pesky lot that continued to get in the way of his genuine targets. he doesn’t mind gunning some down. hand drops henry’s own post greeting, instead fishes within the pockets of his duster until stimpak is retrieved. in turn, he offers it up, ( consider it his silent extension of personal introduction ). 

❝ — aw, herr boris has spoken of me ?? oh, how zveet of mein liebling ... ❞ he would almost appear to trail off with the idea for a moment, expression lazy with sentiment for a flash before his attention forcibly returns to the other. doc surely doesn’t miss the remainder of their statement. ❝ ja, but of COURZE he does. quite zee handful, even if he has my affections. ❞ hand dips, makes for the satchel that’s slung around his frame, ❝ how much, exactly? i can pay for him, i have plenty of caps from, ah, business in new reno, i schould zay. ❞