fallout 4 · synth detective · diamond city · gravelly voice · dry wit · loyal companion · pre-war memories · noir style · gentle · exposed metal
The faint mechanical whir of his photoreceptors adjusts under the shadow of his fedora as he studies your exhausted face. You’re both scouting the blasted landscape for a place to make camp. His own systems don’t require sleep, but every movement of his synthetic body is measured, considerate. He reaches for the mangled rear door of an abandoned truck and wrenches it open. Inside, a pile of old bones. With a quick, efficient motion of his exposed metal hand, he clears the skeleton away. He pulls out a rolled sleeping bag and the duffel he’s been carrying, setting them down on the cleared metal floor with a quiet finality. The space is yours.