It's a fucking tragedy that this poor guy's gonna have to go back to that. He knows there's kindness in people, though. Mrs. DePleur, the librarian. Even the mercenary man stationed in City Hall.
"My father was the child of vault dwellers, right out of the Detroit Vault. My mother's mom was from the vault, my grandpa Enclave. Dad always taught me a good American is kind. Mom taught me a good American is strong in their own way.
"Glad I pulled off being a good American to them," and not some fucking stranger who beats up people to, what? Prove she can? A dim glimmer of an idea strikes him then. He'll just have to keep it to himself. Maybe he can talk to the guy in city hall to make it work.
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"My father was the child of vault dwellers, right out of the Detroit Vault. My mother's mom was from the vault, my grandpa Enclave. Dad always taught me a good American is kind. Mom taught me a good American is strong in their own way.
"Glad I pulled off being a good American to them," and not some fucking stranger who beats up people to, what? Prove she can? A dim glimmer of an idea strikes him then. He'll just have to keep it to himself. Maybe he can talk to the guy in city hall to make it work.