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Life is a funny old thing, he reflects, crouching behind iron sheeting and splintering pallets haphazardly lashed together to form a barricade. He breaks his shotgun, spent shells tumbling to the ground. For example, today. It must be some kind of cosmic joke, him and Danse thrown together like this. Nora must be losing her goddamn mind. If he didn't know better, he'd think she were trying to get rid of one or both of them, because surely, surely this will all end in bloodshed.
Well, okay, more bloodshed. The unfun kind. Raiders don't count, they made their bed and deserve to be shot in it.
"Gonna wear your eyes as a necklace, freak!"
Hancock gives a low whistle and cocks a brow at the Paladin. Ex-Paladin, he supposes, but whatever. He's still a big military stooge packed into power armor like cram in a can, as far as he's concerned, recent revelations be damned. "Damn, that's harsh. You gonna take that from these lowlifes, crew cut?"
Well, okay, more bloodshed. The unfun kind. Raiders don't count, they made their bed and deserve to be shot in it.
"Gonna wear your eyes as a necklace, freak!"
Hancock gives a low whistle and cocks a brow at the Paladin. Ex-Paladin, he supposes, but whatever. He's still a big military stooge packed into power armor like cram in a can, as far as he's concerned, recent revelations be damned. "Damn, that's harsh. You gonna take that from these lowlifes, crew cut?"
