[Nick shakes his head at DiMA's offer to view his memories, though his desire to catch up piques his interest. He could ask a hundred things, at least a dozen coming to mind immediately. He considers inquiring about the Commonwealth, what it's like when DiMA is from. Some folks from their world made it sound the same as ever when they blew through town; however, Paladin Danse came from a time where things had taken a dark turn in favor of the Institute... and worse, Nick himself had been a part of it somehow, or so he'd implied. Hell, it was hard to tell what was the truth when their first meeting had been Danse knocking him to the ground, ready to tear him limb from limb for something he hadn't done --- and may never do, God willing.
But Danse is gone, and for all Nick knows, maybe he came from some strange, alternate time where everything goes to Hell in a handbasket -- as if it wasn't already there for most of the Commonwealth. Given the vast differences between the Boston of Nate's world and the Boston of his, it's not out of the question. More important is the here and now, and currently, Nick has the chance to get to know this brother who has been relegated to fragmented memories and dreams, images he couldn't access on his own even if he tried -- And Nick certainly has tried ever since learning of his existence.
He rubs at the back of his neck, his metal hand dulled to his synthetic skin. The rust has been hell on him.]
I think I'd like that.
[Think. He wants some time to really decide if he needs a brother in his life, family that some other version of his accepted in his place. He'd rather not be facing this kind of thing alone, but it's not like he has a choice currently. Still, getting to talk to another synth, one who is more like him than anyone else here -- in terms of construction and origin, at least -- is hard to pass up.
He starts heading for the back again, assuming DiMA will follow.]
I've been here two years now, nearly three. Long enough to find myself a place here. People.
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Date: 2018-10-05 12:43 am (UTC)But Danse is gone, and for all Nick knows, maybe he came from some strange, alternate time where everything goes to Hell in a handbasket -- as if it wasn't already there for most of the Commonwealth. Given the vast differences between the Boston of Nate's world and the Boston of his, it's not out of the question. More important is the here and now, and currently, Nick has the chance to get to know this brother who has been relegated to fragmented memories and dreams, images he couldn't access on his own even if he tried -- And Nick certainly has tried ever since learning of his existence.
He rubs at the back of his neck, his metal hand dulled to his synthetic skin. The rust has been hell on him.]
I think I'd like that.
[Think. He wants some time to really decide if he needs a brother in his life, family that some other version of his accepted in his place. He'd rather not be facing this kind of thing alone, but it's not like he has a choice currently. Still, getting to talk to another synth, one who is more like him than anyone else here -- in terms of construction and origin, at least -- is hard to pass up.
He starts heading for the back again, assuming DiMA will follow.]
I've been here two years now, nearly three. Long enough to find myself a place here. People.
[A family of his own.]