“Wow,” Carlos said, actually kind of impressed. “I… forgive me, but I didn’t… think people could actually have such thing as a ‘good income’ out here. I’m sorry – it’s most likely my vault mentality still sticking, I just… I got the impression a lot of people had to struggle first before… doing any kind of settling down out here.” Maybe that was a sign that the wasteland was on the mend, as far as society went. Though… could it really be considered ‘on the mend’ when most of the people who experienced the downfall were dead now?
“It’s all relative.” He shrugged, as if that were any kind of real explanation. “Diamond City has been around a long time, folks there are about as comfortable as you can be out here and a ‘good income’ really just means they don’t have to be runnin’ out into the wasteland every day scroungin’ for whatever caps or scraps they can find. Mostly people there just sell shit and then pay scavvers to bring them more shit to sell so they don’t gotta risk themselves. Of course, I s’pose I probably fit into that category too now. Got so much here, I don’t know what to do with it, been makin’ shit up for folks who wanna work just to give ‘em somethin’ to do for caps so they don’t feel like they’re just leeching off’a me all the time.”
Carlos paused for a second, a little startled. “Uh… you didn’t put dust in your terminal on purpose so I could fix it for you, did you?” he asked, putting on a teasing smirk as he glanced at Hancock.
He was making a joke, but at the same time a really small part of him wondered if that’s why it took Hancock so long to get someone to look at the thing – because nobody with experience with terminals were in the ‘leeching’ part of the relationship. Not until Carlos showed up, that was.
The Perfect Scientist 