Hank gives her an appreciative nod, glad Abner has something to do, before going back to reading what he can, making notes. There's a hell of a lot of "John Doe"s in here. But they're not always the sort that'd be interrogated wastelanders- in fact, frequently they're not. Because he can see in their abandoned items, a thing such as "wallet" or "event ticket". Things that wastelanders normally don't have an excuse to hang onto for any amount of time.
Most sickening is when he comes across things like, 'Jane Doe: Age 12.' or 'John Doe: Age 4-5'. What the hell even happened to them?
Hank's immensely glad that DePleur's wife is on her own now. It'll probably be better for both her and the daughter, even if it'll be a difficult adjustment for the girl.
He comes across more records. Definitely DePleur's previous name was Harmon. Maybe a way to maintain privacy. He wonders if the name change happened after the disposal of one of the administrations; very possible, and very likely. It's a dodge he never thought of. The backers that were never at the forefront withdrawing, changing their name, returning to their positions while the faces of the machine were notably disposed of. A fresh paint job on rotting wood to pretend it was a brand new deal.
He sits there for at least an hour, working out a number of small details, before piling his notes unevenly into a folder and putting it in his pack. He has no idea how long it's been. He's sure the sun will have steeply changed position. "Hey, Abner. You ready to go?"
no subject
Most sickening is when he comes across things like, 'Jane Doe: Age 12.' or 'John Doe: Age 4-5'. What the hell even happened to them?
Hank's immensely glad that DePleur's wife is on her own now. It'll probably be better for both her and the daughter, even if it'll be a difficult adjustment for the girl.
He comes across more records. Definitely DePleur's previous name was Harmon. Maybe a way to maintain privacy. He wonders if the name change happened after the disposal of one of the administrations; very possible, and very likely. It's a dodge he never thought of. The backers that were never at the forefront withdrawing, changing their name, returning to their positions while the faces of the machine were notably disposed of. A fresh paint job on rotting wood to pretend it was a brand new deal.
He sits there for at least an hour, working out a number of small details, before piling his notes unevenly into a folder and putting it in his pack. He has no idea how long it's been. He's sure the sun will have steeply changed position. "Hey, Abner. You ready to go?"