These quiet moments were rare in the wastelands and as much as he considered himself a man of action, Welsh cherished them. It gave him a chance to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes; people watching. It was surprising what one could learn through simple observation; for example, he learnt that the bar below him served whisky for below market price and that the children of Megaton did actually have responsibilities of their own... One boy was tightening bolts on the town sewage system, putting his whole body behind a wrench the size of his arm. The scene drew a smile to Welsh's face and he cheered the lad on in his head. A voice from behind took him by surprise and he turned to see a petite young blonde woman, a high spec rifle slung across her back. His eyes narrowed for a moment; people didn't normally strike up a conversation without an ulterior motive. For once though, he was willing to let his suspicions go; perhaps it was the tedium getting to him.

[b]'... Help yourself. Free country, right?'[/b] He studied her carefully, taking note of her kit and armament, the way she carried herself. Welsh could tell she was another clever girl and a tough one too; you'd have to be to walk around with such a valuable weapon on display. After a few moment's silence, he decided to test the waters. [b]'... So what's your story? Parents ex-militia?'[/b] Before she could answer, another voice cut in, this time the egghead girl from Moira's place. [i]Christ,[/i] he thought flatly. [i]It don't rain, it pours...[/i] Welsh gave a sage nod in reply to Arianna's warning, again surprised by her courtesy. [b]'I'm Welsh, Arthur Welsh. Pleased to make your acquaintance and all that.'[/b] While he shared her sentiments and suspected that the average American was simply less polite than a Canadian, he wasn't keen on revealing his status as a citizen of the Commonwealth; folk in these parts often treated northerners with suspicion and sometimes outright aggression. Best to keep that tidbit to himself. He stood, having a good stretch and dumping his remaining tobacco in the process. He took his time stretching, unsure of how to carry on with either conversation; talking wasn't much Welsh's thing at the best of times.