Friends are, believe it or not, a fairly new concept for Deacon. He's not sure he remembers the last time he's even made a friend since following Nora around the Commonwealth, and as an extention of that relationship-- now a man offering a helping hand-- Danse feels like the kinda guy who could use one nearly as much as Deacon could. Sometimes all it takes is recognizing another person's loneliness to realize you have more in common than you'd think, and Deacon could see it in Danse's eyes when the Brotherhood packed their shit and flew away without him.
The inside of the car has multiple hotdog-colored seats, the back wall lined with a bench made up of some sort of storage drawers that look promising. There's a console in the back that he assumes manages the electrical properties of the vehicle (he'll tinker with that later) and a door just past it with who-knows-what behind it. It's roomy inside... and the ceiling is decorated like a cloudy blue sky.
"What's a Twinkie?" he asks, pulling a face, then plops down onto a cushioned seat and kicks his feet onto the bench.
"Oh man..." he groans, pleased with himself, "I'm gonna spend all day in this chair. Or maybe that one-- or that other one-- damn." After his bout in the hospital, he thinks he's earned it.
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The inside of the car has multiple hotdog-colored seats, the back wall lined with a bench made up of some sort of storage drawers that look promising. There's a console in the back that he assumes manages the electrical properties of the vehicle (he'll tinker with that later) and a door just past it with who-knows-what behind it. It's roomy inside... and the ceiling is decorated like a cloudy blue sky.
"What's a Twinkie?" he asks, pulling a face, then plops down onto a cushioned seat and kicks his feet onto the bench.
"Oh man..." he groans, pleased with himself, "I'm gonna spend all day in this chair. Or maybe that one-- or that other one-- damn." After his bout in the hospital, he thinks he's earned it.