He doesn't know if Deacon means this as a compliment, but Danse can't fathom a way in which it wouldn't be, when reliable is exactly the sort of thing he wants to be--the sort of thing he's been afraid Deacon in particular no longer thinks he is, after the shameful and humiliating display he'd witnessed in that bunker. But that's something he's going to push out of his mind for as long as he can, whether he's aware of how audible his thoughts are or not.
Not even so much easier said than done, either, at that distractingly casual little pat. Two months without his power armor and he still hasn't gotten used to people being able to just touch him as frequently or easily as they've been doing around here...but then, he'd worn that armor for nearly fifteen years. He'd thought he would hate it. He does hate being without it, naked and vulnerable as a shelled turtle. But he doesn't hate those little moments of connection. He follows, as predicted.
"I'd rather have an M1 Abrams if we're talking pre-war relics, but it's your...whatever it is. Is it supposed to resemble a sausage? You always talk as if you actually recognize these things."
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Not even so much easier said than done, either, at that distractingly casual little pat. Two months without his power armor and he still hasn't gotten used to people being able to just touch him as frequently or easily as they've been doing around here...but then, he'd worn that armor for nearly fifteen years. He'd thought he would hate it. He does hate being without it, naked and vulnerable as a shelled turtle. But he doesn't hate those little moments of connection. He follows, as predicted.
"I'd rather have an M1 Abrams if we're talking pre-war relics, but it's your...whatever it is. Is it supposed to resemble a sausage? You always talk as if you actually recognize these things."