"Hello, I am human Alec Moore...nonono...They KNOW I'm human....that I AM human. To say it give me away. Make it obvious I'm not what I say I am. Which is clearly human." Pal was having a heck of a time in it's own headspace going over the 'introduction speech' over and over."Finally! Just when I was startin' to think these soldier boy types put an embargo down on decent help. You lookin' for somethin' to do, missy?"
As employment opportunities in the wasteland went, Heck Gunderson was far from the worst, certainly preferable to his equivalents out east who traded in human livestock as opposed to cattle. He wasn't exactly the best either, his precise methodology in persuading his rivals to liquidate a relatively open secret; still, he was rich as all hell, honored his word, and as favors owed in the West went there were few weightier.
Judging from the fact that approximately half his organization seemed to be setting up for the journey he was considering his investment opportunities to the east very thoroughly, and looked to be doing everything in his power to get his foot in the door as one of the expedition's community leaders at an early stage; barbecues, merchant stalls, and even a port-a-potty gave a distinct atmosphere to his corner of the camp, one that was attracting more than its share of envious stares from the others.
Oh, if anyone of the Enseeare found out it wasn't human? If they found out it was a plant? The thought terrified Pal. It didn't want to go back to that lab where the real Alec had subjected it to all sorts of horrible tests when it wasn't in any condition to defend itself or make it's terror known. It had to get this right. It had to get a j o b and get caps. Caps kept people away. Kept them from getting aggressive. Pulling out a piece of paper it'd left folded up and crumpled in the pocket of it's denim jacket, it started to read it aloud.
"Hel...Hello sir or m...m...madamn. I wish, no, I SEEK to open a dia...log...Dialogue with you! Extend hand towards conversation partner." Pal held it's right hand out. "If they accept hand, shake, firmly but fairly. If they say no, pull hand back and run it through hair. Stick in pocket if no hair." Pal glanced up. The human Alec Moore had SOME hair even if he was balding by the time he'd met #1960. Try as it might to continue it's speech practice however, the plant was interrupted by the smell of something good. Pal's mouth clenched and it twisted it's head over in the direction of the 188 that Gunderson had set up his operations at. The humans smelled delicious but eating them unprompted was a social faux-pau or so Pal had been told. But the smell of cooked meat got the plant salivating. "Meat...."
Tucking the handy dandy speech paper away, Pal ambled it's way over, walking past Sally and Gunderson himself without so much as a wave of acknowledgment. Its stolen eyes scanned over the BBQ and it's shoulders heaved up and down as it fought back the temptation to just try and snatch the meat right where it was. So, instead he tried to grab (politely) the nearest worker and pointed towards the meat. "...Can...Can I have for caps?"
Dominik, like many of their ilk in the Mojave Brotherhood, stood as a direct inheritor of their former elder Elijah's neurosis and paranoia, albeit out of necessity rather than choice. The former scribe had been one of the most brilliant minds to ever grace the Brotherhood, unquestionably, but his hunger to understand the secrets of the old world had quickly fallen to obsession, and ultimately brought about a reality where none of their people could ever roam the wastes without looking over their shoulder again. He knew that was the end result of his aggression, didn't care, but did his best to have his chapter of the Brotherhood trained and shaped accordingly.
Right now those teachings were both blessing and curse, because they were how Dominik knew they were being watched.
Dominik frowned.
Could they tell what Dom was? What they used to be?
No, no it couldn't have been. They would have snitched on them to the Ranger if they had. Get some kind of reward or what have you. Truth be told although they didn't let it show on their face, Dom was worried about how that hypothetical conversation was gonna go.
"Name, occupation?"
"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"
*BANG*
Shot in head
"Name, occupation?"
"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"
*BANG BANG BANG BANG*
Gunned down like a dog.
"Name, occupation?"
"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"
*STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB*
To the point their head rolled off their eviscerated neck stump.
Exaggerations to be sure as Maeve, at least at the moment, didn't give off such monstrous energy. But propaganda was a powerful thing and Dom didn't want to get on the ranger's badside and that came from someone who'd gone into Quarry Junction all by themselves. Just for the thrill of it.
It had been coming up on two hours since their last sighting though, and the seed of doubt that the entire affair had simply been a trick of the mind was just beginning to germinate when they felt themselves shoulder checked with enough force to send them spinning, and righted themselves just in time to see their assailant: one of the hooded figures, marching determinedly away from Dom through the crowd and already beginning to meld into it.
Dom typically tried to exude an energy of 'don't mess with me, do I look like I got time for your nonsense?' energy. Was a touch more difficult without power armor as they were 5'5 and could have been thrown across the room by someone with enough gumption like that lady they'd seen talking to the big scarred up freak of nature.
What also didn't help was being shoved, audibly going 'ah!' and having to clear their throat and straighten up their jacket. In an attempt to reesatblish that dominant energy.
Was following this stranger a potentially life threatening risk?
Maybe.
But given the number of NCR troops around and Dom's uneasiness about having to actually TALK to the one ranger, wasn't like they weren't already dancing on the line of danger. So, they sighed and tried to move through the crowd after the jagoff that'd shoved them and went about on their way.