Skinless 1c/?

Date: 2012-05-02 10:18 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
A full hour of sloth and existential angst later and I think I’m about ready to move. Looking at the kind of clothes Lucas had on, my shrimpy little vault suit doesn’t seem like the best attire to go traipsing about in. Maybe there’s a shop in town?

...I don’t have any money. Great.

Well, opportunities don’t come to those who sit on their asses and contemplate the theory of going outside. I get up, head outside, and pretty much head butt the chest of a man coming in the opposite direction.

I blurt out “ow!” because apparently I’m a precious little cherub who can’t take a bump to the head in stoic silence. The guy steps back a little, his hands coming up to steady my shoulders. I don’t know if I see his face or his hands, first, but it’s enough – this guy has skin. He’s human. He’s like me.

“Careful there, lass,” he says, his words rolling out in a pleasant accent I’ve never heard. “Don’t want to wind up knocking yourself out again!”

Oh so apparently news travels fast in Megaton. But I like that he says knock yourself out like I didn’t just swoon into the radioactive dust. It means either Lucas is telling the story that way to save me face (good) or this guy is pleasant enough to overlook that and treat me like I’m not a freak (still good).

“I’m Carla,” I say, sticking out my hand. “I just got out of a vault.”

I decide right then that until I find my feet, that’s going to be my standard greeting. Let people know what kind of idiot they’re up against.

The guy takes my hand. He’s big, broad. Looks older than my dad, with a white beard and his hair all slicked-back. His grip’s firm and reassuring, and he smiles. “Colin. I work at the saloon.” He gestures vaguely behind him, and I nod enthusiastically. Colin. Human. Good.

“Thought I’d come by and see how you were doing,” he continues. He leans forward conspiratorially, and adds, “thought ya might like to see a familiar face, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes,” I say, with no little relief. I’m so glad. Him saying that, it kind of makes me feel less...weird? I mean, about not being totally...comfortable with the idea of ghouls. Yet. “Yeah. I walked into Mr Simms and just...” I wave my hand ineffectually. He gets it, I’m sure.

His smile widens. He’s friendly, he’s nice. And something about his accent is just really comforting. I keep getting the weirdest feeling I’ve heard it before, too, like when I was a kid. Maybe on an old holotape or something. His grip on my hand changes and he holds it like he’s guiding me, and says, “Fancy letting an old man like me show you round the place?”

“Sure,” I say. Lucas had offered, but amidst the whole ‘most of humanity are now skinless mutants who live for centuries and treat irradiated ponds like hot tubs’ speech I guess the idea kind of got buried. Colin releases my hand and leads my outside and away from the barracks, into the afternoon light of Megaton.

My second look at the city is even more impressive than the first. Now that I can see how different things are, the idea of this place being built from nothing is even more incredible. Colin begins to point out the sights, and that’s when I notice the bomb.
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