Deacon crosses the lobby and pushes open the door a crack.

"Sweet. It's nighttime. Above ground was totally the right choice."

Door opened fully, he pads down the steps of the museum, glancing back and forth looking for signs of super mutant activity. Out of that building, away from the remains of fallen comrades, he's beginning to feel calmer, more stable.

"So how's a nice Old World girl like you end up practiced at survival tactics? Back in that prison, you said that you had to kill to survive, but it sounded like not everyone in your world lives like that. Not like here. So how'd you get unlucky?"