[In the glow of the bizarre neon plants, the outline of a man in a trench coat and worn fedora can be seen leaning against a wall. He casts black and yellow eyes up towards the cyborg and, surprisingly, seems completely nonplussed by him. Nick Valentine has seen so much bullshit in the Commonwealth, seen such incredible marvels of technology sent up by the Institute, that you know what? A glowing green cyborg might as well be here in this collapsing cave, asking where he is.]
Good question. [A lit cigarette bobs between his lips as he talks, although as he steps forward into the light it's clear he's made entirely of some sort of metal or plastic. Can robots smoke?] I was wondering the same thing myself.
[He sounds like a caricature of an old-timey detective from Boston. Probably because he is.]
dungeons deep!
Good question. [A lit cigarette bobs between his lips as he talks, although as he steps forward into the light it's clear he's made entirely of some sort of metal or plastic. Can robots smoke?] I was wondering the same thing myself.
[He sounds like a caricature of an old-timey detective from Boston. Probably because he is.]