If there was one thing the hunter missed from his years in the Commonwealth, it was common decency. The vast majority of those he had met since heading south didn't have an ounce of politeness in their bodies and it annoyed him. Still, he was stuck in his ways and made a habit of treating strangers with respect; this was the first time that an American had reciprocated the gesture. If nothing else, it reassured him that there were a few decent folk hereabouts. He gave the girl a friendly smile as she passed, checking out the weapon strapped to her back; some form of energy rifle he assumed, though he had no knowledge of such esoteric equipment. Standard ammunition was easy to find in the Commonwealth, but weaponised energy packs were a rarity, the weapons they powered even rarer. He would have liked to take a good look at it, perhaps try the rifle out, but the hunter knew not to overstep his bounds. Besides, he might find a similar specimen on his prey eventually.

He followed the girl in, giving Moira a wide berth as she flounced over to greet her customers. Instead he turned to the guard, giving him a simple nod. He preferred dealing with the taciturn mercenary, even though he technically had nothing to do with the running of the store. [b]'Just need to tighten a bolt and flog some salvage. Any chance I can avoid the landlady today?'[/b] The merc gave him a knowing smile in return, beckoning the hunter over to a nearby workbench. As he worked on the scrapbow, he gave the hunter a sidelong look. [b]'So Welsh... Where'd you get that loot? Not like you to hunt people.'[/b] The hunter, Welsh, shrugged apathetically; he would rather not give away his hard-earned information for free but it wasn't as though this guy would leave his cushy guard job for field work. [b]'... Just a couple of bandits to the south. Halfway through hunting them for the Mayor's bounty; should be enough to tide me over until a caravan comes to take me home.'[/b] The two of them chatted back and forth for a while, discussing the local food, the shitty water system and bitching about Moira's eccentricity. Welsh didn't have many friends, but this guy might have counted if he ever gave his name...

From the corner of his eye, Welsh noted another girl in the shop. [i]Well,[/i] he thought flatly. [i]I use the term girl loosely...[/i] Her appearance was nothing short of nightmarish; swirling, tattoo-like scars, ragged hair and a [i]gask mask...[/i] Welsh wasn't a man easily rattled, but the strange woman sent all sorts of alarm bells ringing in his head... Another one to avoid then. [i]That girl's a problem for someone,[/i] he thought grimly. [i]Fingers crossed it isn't me.[/i] He shelved that thought, hoping he wouldn't need it again and turned his attention to the other young woman. Nothing special there, aside from her intellectual looks; whatever she was after, she probably wouldn't find it here. Moira was well known as the best fence in Megaton; not because she was dirty, but because the woman was so damn innocent. You could give her any old crap and chances are she'd buy; not a business that collected high-value kit. He thanked the merc, giving him the old pistol in exchange for his maintenance work and ducked out of the shop.

Aside from perhaps repeating his raider hunt under cover of darkness, Welsh was out of ideas for distraction. He had enough caps to last him a few days, long enough for his employer, Canterbury Caravans, to send another caravan through the town... It might be ironic for a hunter to feel bored, considering the patience the job required, but Welsh simply didn't have anything to do. He sighed and took a seat under the walkway railings, dangling his feet over the side. The hunter pulled a small leather pack from one pocket, withdrawing a pipe and filling it. As Welsh struck a match and lit his tobacco, his gaze drifted down into the central courtyard of the town and the cultists therein. He kept his thoughts on their insanity silent, instead surveying the other inhabitants. One caught his eye as he slowly blew a smoke ring; a woman, possibly a ghoul, giving those around the bomb the same look he had. Ghouls weren't to be trusted, the same as all mutants, but perhaps a few were still human in mind, if not body. Welsh chuckled derisively. [i]Now there's a fantasy I could get behind.[/i]