[Center][color=ed1c24][b]Waylon - S&W Weaponry[/b][/color][/center]

"Mm," Frieda began carefully, tapping off some ashes, "seems like deathclaws make everyone get a little squirrely. As for dinner, I'm...not picky," she paused, "Brandy cooked up some fried chicken last night that was really good. But," she smiled, "I can't cook for shit, so I doubt you could really do much worse."

Waylon laughed, Guess we shall see about that,” he turned and pulled open his small cooler and pulled out two purified water, “Would you like one?” He held one bottle out.


 It was quiet, but comfortable in the little weapon's shop. "Is Shelby okay, though? Do you think we should go looking for her?"

Waylon swallowed his drink and shook his head, “No, as much as I would like to she...it would probably just piss her off even more. She needs to do what she needs to do you know?” He twisted the cap back on his water bottle, “I noticed you looking at the wall. Shelby makes those blades in the back garage, she has a forge set up. It's really an art form, I tried and failed miserably.”  He laughed and took another toke on his cigarette. “She could make you one if you'd like? Guarantee there wouldn't be another like it anywhere.”

Snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray, “Do you need a hand with anything over at the clinic? Try to get it so you can get a nap, it's been non-stop today.”