"Oh, fantastic," she mutters, rubbing her upper arms briefly. "Ferals and roaches or super mutants." What a fucking choice. But it beats staying here, and she'd like to give the both of them a reprieve from the dust and dead. Still, she doesn't know her way around and doesn't think she'd make a good decision if left up to her.

"You pick, Deacon. I trust whatever decision you make," she says, and means it. He knows his world better than she ever will, after all.