The sound of a crackling wood fire rumbles low in Whiskey’s throat at the inquiry of why somebody would do such a thing to their own vault; Irradiating their family, their friends, destroying all they’ve ever known…
A stray droplet of Nuka Cola is chased by her tongue.
After an entirely uneccesary period of deliberation - Surely for her own enjoyment of watching someone squirming with anticipation over what her 'wild as the west' story could be - gnarled scar tissue peels back over her teeth as she draw a rasping breath, bracing shaggy vocal chords to say--
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