Roleplay

"Sound like hell, or more accurately like running with a raider crew. They don't give two caps about you unless you're loosing money." He made a face at the mention of diamond city, "feh. Only good thing about diamond city is the dugout bar. Even their radio is crap. Granted I could be more than a little biased after getting thrown out for being an ex-raider. But you're right about it being in the Commonwealth."

He perked up at the mention of work, "caravan guard huh? Got a nice ring to it." He furrowed his brows in thought, "I think I might know a few others who'd be willing to trade with you too"

He snorted, "jeez. Usually for long term jobs I charge a thousand caps but I'm willing to haggle considering what you just went through." He pointed to a gym building on the outskirts of the school campus. "There it is. The whole thing used to be a high school, I think, either way the building I'm staying in has working showers if you don't mind the rads. It's got a roof, and sturdy walls, that makes it a damned palace in my eyes. We can stay over night here and head into town in the morning, the Highway men will have moved on by then. They never stay in one place too long as a rule."

He led them inside scouting for ghouls before pushing the large double doors shut. He hacked a radroach in two with a machete he kept strapped to his belt, and proceeded to gut it for it's meat. "I forgot to ask do you have any issue eating wasteland creatures, or are you fine with whatever? I've been fending for myself so long I forget sometimes that not everyone is down to eat freaky mutated monsters."

"Thousand for the job, I'll get you there and back to where ever it is you usually group up with the others in a caravan." He shrugged, "honestly I'm uh- I'm weirdly resistant to radiation, especially water carried radiation. I always figured it was because of my mom's chems addiction. I could count on my hand the amount of times I'd seen her sober, and not one of 'em was pleasant." He shook his head, "I'm surprised I wasn't born a ghoul."

He made a face after Robert mentioned the prewar times, "can't have been that good right? Otherwise they wouldn't have tried to kill everyone. Besides this is the world we got can't change it now." He didn't like the world and the way it was, so he didn't like to imagine how much better it could have been. Especially not since it only took a few fools to utterly ruin the world as it had been.

He headed over to a hole in the floor where he had an old stew pot hanging over it. "Tastes like crap unless you cook it...though I'll admit raw mirelurk is probably the least offensive." He moved the pot and lit a small fire replacing the pot with a frying pan. He wiped it out with a rag and took a seat next to the flame, he poured an oil into the pan and balanced it over the fire on a small metal rack. Zion went over to what used to be lockers and pulled out a basket with different vegetables in it along with a few different jars of seasonings. I hope you don't mind fried food, this far it's the only way I've found to make it taste better than, well better than giant roach meat usually tastes." He set to work dicing up the roach meat and vegetables before pushing them all into the hot oil.

"I loved her anyway." He turned his attention back to the food pushing it around with the knife, "that's true. Deathclaws are a primary source of income for me though, matter of fact most of the creatures out there provide me with a steady income." He laughed, "it's pretty sad that I'm thankful for man eating horrors isn't it?" He continued to cook giving commentary on what mirelurk tasted like, and who introduced him to frying his food. He took a moment to look over the plasma pistol, taking it and turning it over in his hands. "The sight is a little weird but that's nothing some modification won't fix..." He trailed off mentally inspecting the gun. "How much do I owe you for it?"

He raised a brow, "I usually try killing the horrors first. This is a generous 'thank you'." He slipped the gun into a previously vacant holster on his left thigh, "I am now armed to the teeth, guess old habits die hard." He didn't offer an explanation for the coupling of the phrase and his adding another gun to his on person armory. Instead he stamped out the fire and set the pan down on a crate. "I don't own any plates so we're eating out of the pan." He handed Robert a fork and fished one for himself out of one of his may storage boxes.

Zion stirred the contents of the pan around with his fork and began to eat, "sorry about the lack of light, it make the ferals restless. It's a pain having them beating down the door, mostly because that gets the attention of bigger, and meaner creatures."