For just a second Max's expression changed to that of barely controlled fury. "The hell does it take to keep those c- fucks down? Back in the day we blew up a friggin' oil rig on their faces an' that took their friggin' president with it." After a brief - rather curse laden - tirade the old man spat on the ground and collected his composure. "Hell, Should have taken a friggin' power armor AND a friggin' gauss minigun from good ol' California... The fuckin' Enclave wouldn't be so though when faced with 90 000 fuckin' shots per fuckin' minute!" Max paused to take a deep breath and lifted his hands apologetically. "Sorry, I tend to get a bit miffed when the Enclave is around, guess you need a little shuteye so I won't be botherin' you further." The old man nodded politely to Par, turned on his heels and began walking away. As he walked Max shouldered the blade of his and removed his leather coat to reveal a rather worn - slightly padded - vault suit with the yellow numbers proudly indicating 13.