((OOC: Lol, I hadn't checked the posts, so I failed to see you made a betty post before I checked the OOC. Thanks Sky!))

[color=a36209][i][b]Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Ace's Diner
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The waitress Betty looked at the Adam like he'd just dropped in from the moon, "Either you've been living in a cave for too long, you're out of town or you 're just having me on about not knowing what a synth is. Shit, the Insitute that used to exist till the Minutmen General blew it up, created them. Good for nothing eggheads with too much time on thir hands." Adam chuckled through his beard, "You caught me, ma'am. I'm an out of towner. New to the area. From the deep south to the, well, everything east of the Mississippi, really. Still not familiar with some of the local things that go on. I just came in out of D.C. to be honest. Can't say I cared for it much, either. Brotherhood clowns thinking they're the lawman around, more like a bunch of bullies you ask me."

Adam watched Betty walk off to the coffee maker, then come back to pour him a cup and scolded him, "Don't be Ma'aming me, old man. Do I look old to you." Adam made a small smile of amusement and egged her on a little, "I hope that's a rhetorical question." She shot him a dirty look then looked in an old mirror on the wall, making sure she hadn't aged and that she hadn't noticed. Adam looked down at the counter, feeling a little bad she took him so serious. "You look fine, Miss. Just having a little fun at your expense is all. I was just raised to be polite is all." Betty didn't say much to that and instead chose to walk over to stove and grill, and started preparing the  steak he'd ordered. "You see the institute created things like him to look like us and replace us. You can't even tell em apart from human beings...well this one you can cause it's face is all messed up, plus when was the last time you saw a person with a red eye?" Adam paused, "Probably me when I looked in a mirror back in Atlant. Was completely drunk and on a gambling bender for two days without sleep on the casino strip by the boardwalk." He chuckled and cleared his throat, "But uh, I guess that wasn't what you'd meant, huh?" Adam was happy for his meal to arrive. He quietly at his steak, savoring its seasonings and preparation. After the last bite, he washed down the last of his coffee and put his caps on the counter, leaving an extra 10 caps for a tip. He stood up and straightened his coat, "Thanks for the meal, Miss Betty. Not many good cooks in the wastes, always glad to meet one of them." He gave flew his fingers off the temple of his head in farewell and stepped out into the late day air.

[color=a36209][i][b]Salem[/b][/i][/color]

Adam made a deep sigh and inhaled the air, never ceasing to be tired of the beauty of that ocean air. He walked the streets, hands in his pockets, his mind a million miles off. He sat on an old bench and began contemplating his life, letting go of his wife opening a new perspective for him. The wind gently toyed with his hair as he stared off into the past. He thought of his days as a highwayman, wondering if she died because it was God's punishment to him for his wicked past. He vaguely remembered the cowering screams of men and women begging not to be shot as they jumped the bushes. Adam was the 'moral one' in his group, so he never shot a mark, but that didn't forgive it. His gut twisted at the shame he felt. All the times they'd robbed and plundered innocent caravaneers. When he left, he hoped to make amends, but he knew life didn't work that way. He kept that past hidden deep inside, how would other townfolk react if they knew that eccentric drunk that scavenged for a living used to be a thieving bastard and a Brahmin rustler? He didn't want to consider that. As far as he was concerned, that past was put to bed and the trader he'd been since his twenties was the man he is now. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he stared into the distance. He looked at a small picture of a young Adam and some of the men he used to ride with.

Adam felt a little guilty he'd sold them out. The lawmen in Kentucky were going to hang him and three others, but swore to let the one who sold out the gang out could go if they turned a new leaf. Adam was the one who broke silence. Even now, he could still hear Will yell [i]'You always were a weak-stomached son of a Bitch, Trails. We should've let you rot when you were bleeding out on that highway!'[/i]. Three days later, all nineteen outlaws were hanging on a noose, he was the one who escaped. One of the marshals looked at him, "That'll be you if you don't change, Kid. You're twenty, don't throw your life away.". Adam stared at the hanging men, each on a man who had at some point trusted him, considered him a friend. That was when he'd shaped up his life, started living upright. His finger gently massaged the jean fabric on his leg, contemplating that his life was built on the backs of nineteen outlaws. Then he sighed, "Each as rotten a bastard as the next, ain't no reason for me to feel bad." Adam muttered to himself as he got up from the bench. He eyed a small pile of discarded goods across the street, a small table and chairs. He only took two of the four and carried them back to his shed, contemplating how nice it'd help make his home look. Before he did, however, he threw down the picture of the men into the pile and shrugged, "No sense in them bastards keeping me down." he said, dragging his new furniture through the street to his shed.

Inside his seaside shack, Adam put the small table to a wall with a painting of Pre-War D.C. across from his bedframe. He looked through his boxes as he began planning for the night ahead and found it, a bottle of wine unopened and went over to the hotplate to start cooking a meal for two.