[Shaun is visibly wary as he approaches to take the bottle.]
I think you and I probably have different definitions of the word 'great.' Why's it called 'nukacola?' Is that like, a brand name or something? [He inspects the bottle curiously.]
I'm more of a coffee guy generally, without all the damn sugar. Pretty sure this stuff's going to put me in dentures by the time I'm forty, if I make it that long.
[A little dramatic, don't you think?]
[He shrugs in response to both George's comment, and Hancock's question.]
Could be worse, I guess, though I could do without the psychos throwing knives around the dining room. [Does Shaun hold grudges? Yes, he does.] And that 'bleed until you talk about your issues' thing was absolute bullshit. [Says the man who chose to bleed, rather than talking about his issues.]
Well, apparently when you spend your time playing with dead things, they eventually bite back. I'm not quite ready to be dead yet, though, because I haven't killed the people who killed my sister, so... [He shrugs.]
In my world the dead don't stay that way. They get back up and start trying to eat everyone around them. I've been poking them for fun and profit wince I was a kid.
[He takes a drink of soda, ignoring George's complaints about the potential for radiation, and that it's not real coke. He's probably going to have to find the real stuff later to appease her, but for now, she's not the boss of him.]
Pretty much exactly. But they're not nearly as good conversational partners, since their vocabulary is usually limited to--
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What's a coke?
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[But he makes his way to the lounge, because disgusting or not, someone needs a coke, and he's got a warden to meet.]
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I have one. I'll bring it.
[And he's there, leaning against the door for him, in his breeches and signature red coat.]
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Jesus fuck.
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Yeah, I get that a lot. It's the hat, right?
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Yeah, that's it.
So I'm sure you get this a lot, but... what the hell?
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Nukacola, like I promised.
And I'm a ghoul. Radiation exposure or, in my case, a really great experimental drug.
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I think you and I probably have different definitions of the word 'great.' Why's it called 'nukacola?' Is that like, a brand name or something? [He inspects the bottle curiously.]
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Ho on in and we can talk more, huh?
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[He shrugs. It's not a dealbreaker, considering that healthcare around here borders on magical, but it's good to know.
He turns to go into the lounge, but he keeps an eye on Hancock as he does, not yet willing to turn his back on him.]
Do you drink?
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[He guides then to a table with his own drink on it. Whiskey. Neat.]
And of fucking course I drink.
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[Shaun Mason are you seriously about to drink radioactive coke?]
Can't be worse than the regular stuff.
[He takes a drink, grimaces a little, then takes another.]
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What can't? The cola? Probably not. Never got a taste for it myself, but I showed up with some of it in my cabin. Might as well share the wealth.
So. Shaun. How's the barge treating you? Because, if I'm honest, this whole place is a mindfuck.
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[A little dramatic, don't you think?]
[He shrugs in response to both George's comment, and Hancock's question.]
Could be worse, I guess, though I could do without the psychos throwing knives around the dining room. [Does Shaun hold grudges? Yes, he does.] And that 'bleed until you talk about your issues' thing was absolute bullshit. [Says the man who chose to bleed, rather than talking about his issues.]
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[He takes a drink, holding the glass between his fingers.]
So what's your deal, hm?
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Yeah, you got me there. But why are you here?
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Yeah. And they look like me, I assume?
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[He takes a drink of soda, ignoring George's complaints about the potential for radiation, and that it's not real coke. He's probably going to have to find the real stuff later to appease her, but for now, she's not the boss of him.]
Pretty much exactly. But they're not nearly as good conversational partners, since their vocabulary is usually limited to--
[He makes zombie groans.]
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