01-07-2012, 02:35 PM
"WELCOME...TO...MEGATON."
Flynn smiled. There was something oddly comforting about the old Protectron's stilted, robotic greeting. Like it was one thing in the wastes that would never change. The shifting dunes might change the landscape; unexploded nukes could go off and create more craters; the standing ruins of some of the larger buildings might collapse; but despite all that, Deputy Weld would still stand at the gate to Megaton.
"'Afternoon, Deputy. How're you holding up?" Flynn asked the robot with almost tenderness.
The robot made a few chirping noises. "DIAGNOSTIC PROCEDURE INDICATES ADEQUATE PERFORMANCE." It clicked its three fingered hands idly.
"Adequate, huh?" The dog cocked his head. "And what might I have to do to improve that to exceptional?"
"DISSASEMBLY. REPLACEMENT."
The air between them stood silent. The shocking bluntness of the robot's statement stopped the dog short.
"Don't give up, Deputy," he said, patting the robot fondly on its shoulder. "You've got plenty of good years left in you."
The protectron made a chirping, whirring noise. "HAVE...A NICE...DAY."
"You, too."
Flynn strolled through the gate, heading up to the local bar. He wondered for a brief moment before he opened its door if it had changed ownership - again - since his last visit. He noticed another anthro like himself at the bar. Well, not much like himself, but something definitely more animal than human. Some kind of...horse, he recalled.
He smiled to himself. Horses...four legged fast runners, they'd carry their passengers all around. He briefly tried to imagine what this stranger would look like with a human running around on his back, laughing at the ridiculous image as he sat in the corner and waved the waitress over.
"Amber rum and a glass of ice, please." He dropped a fistful of caps on the table. "Top shelf."
The waitress' skeptical expression was erased as soon as she saw the volume of caps. "Y-yes, sir!" She nearly tripped and dropped everything, knowing the necessity of treating a high paying customer well. She poured the first shot, hovering almost too close, eyes uncertain.
Flynn took the first shot, closing his eyes as its sweetness burned his tongue and throat with delicious warmth before stirring a fire in his belly. He opened them and looked at the waitress, seeing the discomfort in her eyes at the thought of having to flirt with a dog. "Gay," he offered, by way of explanation.
The waitress nodded, the discomfort of the situation changing tone entirely. Feeling entirely idiotic, she stumbled her way back across the bar, nearly tripping in a barstool as she tried to erase the image of a dog fiercely coupling with her from her brain.
Flynn chuckled throatily to himself. Gay and a dog person. What a catch.
Flynn smiled. There was something oddly comforting about the old Protectron's stilted, robotic greeting. Like it was one thing in the wastes that would never change. The shifting dunes might change the landscape; unexploded nukes could go off and create more craters; the standing ruins of some of the larger buildings might collapse; but despite all that, Deputy Weld would still stand at the gate to Megaton.
"'Afternoon, Deputy. How're you holding up?" Flynn asked the robot with almost tenderness.
The robot made a few chirping noises. "DIAGNOSTIC PROCEDURE INDICATES ADEQUATE PERFORMANCE." It clicked its three fingered hands idly.
"Adequate, huh?" The dog cocked his head. "And what might I have to do to improve that to exceptional?"
"DISSASEMBLY. REPLACEMENT."
The air between them stood silent. The shocking bluntness of the robot's statement stopped the dog short.
"Don't give up, Deputy," he said, patting the robot fondly on its shoulder. "You've got plenty of good years left in you."
The protectron made a chirping, whirring noise. "HAVE...A NICE...DAY."
"You, too."
Flynn strolled through the gate, heading up to the local bar. He wondered for a brief moment before he opened its door if it had changed ownership - again - since his last visit. He noticed another anthro like himself at the bar. Well, not much like himself, but something definitely more animal than human. Some kind of...horse, he recalled.
He smiled to himself. Horses...four legged fast runners, they'd carry their passengers all around. He briefly tried to imagine what this stranger would look like with a human running around on his back, laughing at the ridiculous image as he sat in the corner and waved the waitress over.
"Amber rum and a glass of ice, please." He dropped a fistful of caps on the table. "Top shelf."
The waitress' skeptical expression was erased as soon as she saw the volume of caps. "Y-yes, sir!" She nearly tripped and dropped everything, knowing the necessity of treating a high paying customer well. She poured the first shot, hovering almost too close, eyes uncertain.
Flynn took the first shot, closing his eyes as its sweetness burned his tongue and throat with delicious warmth before stirring a fire in his belly. He opened them and looked at the waitress, seeing the discomfort in her eyes at the thought of having to flirt with a dog. "Gay," he offered, by way of explanation.
The waitress nodded, the discomfort of the situation changing tone entirely. Feeling entirely idiotic, she stumbled her way back across the bar, nearly tripping in a barstool as she tried to erase the image of a dog fiercely coupling with her from her brain.
Flynn chuckled throatily to himself. Gay and a dog person. What a catch.
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Avatar art by Fluke
Avatar art by Fluke