[When Len says he's looking forward to seeing Danse in action, Danse assumes he won't have to wait very long. It's a pretty damn safe assumption to make no matter where in the wasteland one is. There's never that much distance between you and something that wants you dead.
But the promise of a companion to watch his back is both a relief and an excitement. A few days after that accord, he finds himself in the Diamond City marketplace again, pondering a job flyer with an assignment to go clear the ferals out of the Mass Pike Tunnel. It seems the sort of thing that might be worth asking Darin if he wants to come along for, if only for the pleasure of having someone to chat and banter with between skirmishes, and Danse is all set to track him down--but then he takes a look at the promised payment, realizes it'll barely cover replacements for the toiletries and armor polish he had to leave behind on the Prydwen, and tells himself there's no need to go bothering a new acquaintance so soon.
Still, that errand and a couple others leave him well enough set to leave the Commonwealth at any time. When they do, it's as clean a break as he can make it. He leaves a goodbye note behind for Haylen in the bunker, but whether she finds it or not, he'll never know. And he lets himself look over his shoulder only once while the Prydwen is still in view, still hovering over the airport like the grim and tenuously-welcome guardian angel it is. The next time he glances backward, it's too far away to be seen. And thus ends his fifteen-year tenure with the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel.
He's pensive during that first day or so as they head southward, or as pensive as he can afford to be while remaining vigilant for danger, but there's no sense in brooding over things now, and even his heavily-armored steps begin to feel lighter after a while when he lets himself think about the exploration in store. He always has wanted to travel--just never had reason to think he'd ever have the freedom to do it.]
I don't know how much time you spent in Rivet City on your way up here--
[This as they begin to make camp, Danse taking on the well-practiced job of securing the perimeter and setting out what he's got in the way of small wards and traps.]
--but if you didn't stop by the Muddy Rudder, we should go. That was always my favorite haunt when I was--
["Growing up there," he's accustomed to saying, even if the phrase doesn't actually apply to a grown-looking android programmed with sparing information about the place and then dumped unceremoniously into its scrap heap. But his memories of the bar are real, at least.]
--living there. [Good enough.] It's got the most edible grilled iguana you're going to find on this side of the country. And something tells me you're probably good enough at pool to need a challenge.
[ Len packs light, as always. Accustomed to scrounging for material in a much harsher environment, Boston feels as though it's bursting at the seams with caps and equipment, scavenged goods and discarded weapons, little private stashes of money that he tucks away with the rest of his things. Some preserved goods from Diamond City, some eccentric ammunition from Goodneighbor and a charming evening spent in the company of their local lounge singer, and he meets up with the former-Paladin Danse outside of downtown, trusting that he's capable of handling himself in the various pockets of mutant territory. Given that he looks no worse for wear when they regroup Len is at least pleased that the Brotherhood's reputation for building balls-to-the-wall combat ready soldiers is a truly accurate one.
He catches the way Danse looks back that last time, before the edge of a hill covers the last of those old skyscrapers and the silhouette of the Prydwen over the Boston Airport. It's a hard thing, leaving a whole world behind. He learned as much as a young boy, and these things don't get any easier. Scar tissue always numbs the space where something used to be.
They end up settling down for the night in a clearing deep inside the Assabet River National Wildlife Refuge, a landscape that appears largely untouched and decidedly unoccupied by raiders. It's rare to find bits and pieces of the natural world like this, unspoiled and with scant radioactivity. Len might even hazard that the stars are especially clear out here, the way they are in Zion, or Escalante. ]
Somebody tell you I hustle pool, or somethin'?
[ Len grins over his shoulder from where he's posted up to make a fire, dumping an armful of dry brush next to a small pit he dug out with a nearby busted shovel. It's an accurate estimation but that doesn't mean he won't give Danse a little shit for it. ]
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lonedanger
But the promise of a companion to watch his back is both a relief and an excitement. A few days after that accord, he finds himself in the Diamond City marketplace again, pondering a job flyer with an assignment to go clear the ferals out of the Mass Pike Tunnel. It seems the sort of thing that might be worth asking Darin if he wants to come along for, if only for the pleasure of having someone to chat and banter with between skirmishes, and Danse is all set to track him down--but then he takes a look at the promised payment, realizes it'll barely cover replacements for the toiletries and armor polish he had to leave behind on the Prydwen, and tells himself there's no need to go bothering a new acquaintance so soon.
Still, that errand and a couple others leave him well enough set to leave the Commonwealth at any time. When they do, it's as clean a break as he can make it. He leaves a goodbye note behind for Haylen in the bunker, but whether she finds it or not, he'll never know. And he lets himself look over his shoulder only once while the Prydwen is still in view, still hovering over the airport like the grim and tenuously-welcome guardian angel it is. The next time he glances backward, it's too far away to be seen. And thus ends his fifteen-year tenure with the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel.
He's pensive during that first day or so as they head southward, or as pensive as he can afford to be while remaining vigilant for danger, but there's no sense in brooding over things now, and even his heavily-armored steps begin to feel lighter after a while when he lets himself think about the exploration in store. He always has wanted to travel--just never had reason to think he'd ever have the freedom to do it.]
I don't know how much time you spent in Rivet City on your way up here--
[This as they begin to make camp, Danse taking on the well-practiced job of securing the perimeter and setting out what he's got in the way of small wards and traps.]
--but if you didn't stop by the Muddy Rudder, we should go. That was always my favorite haunt when I was--
["Growing up there," he's accustomed to saying, even if the phrase doesn't actually apply to a grown-looking android programmed with sparing information about the place and then dumped unceremoniously into its scrap heap. But his memories of the bar are real, at least.]
--living there. [Good enough.] It's got the most edible grilled iguana you're going to find on this side of the country. And something tells me you're probably good enough at pool to need a challenge.
no subject
He catches the way Danse looks back that last time, before the edge of a hill covers the last of those old skyscrapers and the silhouette of the Prydwen over the Boston Airport. It's a hard thing, leaving a whole world behind. He learned as much as a young boy, and these things don't get any easier. Scar tissue always numbs the space where something used to be.
They end up settling down for the night in a clearing deep inside the Assabet River National Wildlife Refuge, a landscape that appears largely untouched and decidedly unoccupied by raiders. It's rare to find bits and pieces of the natural world like this, unspoiled and with scant radioactivity. Len might even hazard that the stars are especially clear out here, the way they are in Zion, or Escalante. ]
Somebody tell you I hustle pool, or somethin'?
[ Len grins over his shoulder from where he's posted up to make a fire, dumping an armful of dry brush next to a small pit he dug out with a nearby busted shovel. It's an accurate estimation but that doesn't mean he won't give Danse a little shit for it. ]
How long were you in Rivet City?