>>"Alright you, what's going on?"
>>"Oh, this is gonna be fun... Cait, what're you talking about?"
>>"Ever since we started working, you've been... nice to me. What's your
>>scheme?"
>>"... It's called not being an ass."
>
>"Look, honey, if anybody in this relationship has a reason to be
>suspicious it's me. We're in a radioactive wasteland 210 years after
>human civilization destroyed itself and all higher technology became
>barely-functional scavenger bait, and I'm supposed to believe you're
>Irish? Like, from Ireland? You're not trying to convey
>some kind of retro Southie thing with your hokey Lucky the Leprechaun
>accent, which, by the way, Irish-Americans in greater Boston hadn't
>talked like for 200 years before the war? Is Ireland even
>still there? You know what, don't even answer that, chances
>are I wouldn't believe whatever you told me."
>

All these accents in Diamond City are what worries me. Seriously, this is smack dab in the middle of Fenway, and the only guy who actually talks like he's from Boston is the weirdo with the violent fixation on baseball? Meanwhile, the doctor, the gun merchant, and the bartenders talk like they're from places that, as far as anyone knows, only exist as radioactive rubble. Is it any wonder that people are concerned about synths?

Ebony the Black Dragon

"Life is like an anole. Sometimes it's green. Sometimes it's brown. But it's always a small Caribbean lizard."