[u][color=ed1c24][b]James Gregor Castner[/b][/color][/u]- [color=00aeef]Mariner's Shack[/color]

"Nothing I can't handle,". And with that, the doctor went to work. For a few hours his cuts were dressed, and he received a splint. The medical equipment seemed well worn, but still very effective.

"There, I think that'll do it," Teddy said with a sigh as he packed up his supplies and snapped his bag shut, "No charge this time, on account of the not-so-warm welcome you received coming into town. Let me know if you need anything else, my little clinic is in the back of the Bait Shop, can't miss it."
“Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality. I’ll stop by if I need anything”, he replied earnestly. 

The doctor left the shack and Longfellow entered. He sat down, pulled out a flask, and poured two shots. Whiskey by the smell of it. He gladly accepted one of the shots. 

"So," Longfellow said, setting his gun aside, but still within easy reach, "Doc said you don't have any signs of long-term radiation exposure or of having been in the Fog for very long. Which I guess pretty well clears you of being a cultist. That still don't explain much about what you were doing out there though. Mind filling in the blanks?"

He sighed and sipped half the whiskey. He knew he was supposed to keep his true origin a secret, but he wanted to be honest. Was he really a part of the Brotherhood anymore though? Did he owe them anything? Well, he owed them everything. Even if the last few years had been hard. Even after what they did to Colleen… Stop. Can’t think about her now. The wreckage of the vertibird could help Far Harbor, he could retrieve his heavy duty gear, and there was the chance the Brotherhood might send another squad. The town needed to be ready.

After a pause, James replied “Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?”