It seemed like she had understood at least. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a similar flutter of repressed delight at the prospect of actually having someone so close that he could talk to on an equal level. Gods did he regret opening that up though. He really shouldn’t be spending any more time with her. Her ward was the least of the problems. He really wasn’t good with people. He flinched a little as she mentioned the… Enclave. His face contorted a little and his arms crossed instinctively, fingers tracing along small half-faded old scars all along his arms. He could almost feel the cold glass shards cutting into his skin again, the darkness and the muted tune from those patriotic records his mother had kept. A quick bout of nausea washed over him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck, it had been a long time since he heard that word. Enclave. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his distress. Weakness. Freak. Inbred.
“Maybe he isn’t. But while you are here you are his responsibility. Everything you do reflects upon him. I doubt he would want you to talk to me…” He tossed his armor in the water through and began washing it from the damned dust. At least his last assignment before coming back to the Mojave had been free of that. But in a way snow was worse. “…but with that said, I could care less what he would want. If you want to speak to me again, you know where to find me.”
A strange man this one. But the strange was horribly interesting. She smiled again though it was doubtful he’d seen it because he was distracted with his armor. At least he didn’t tell her not to come back or seem off put by who her ward was like several others she’d talked to.
"Alright then. I guess I’ll see you around then." With that she wandered off.
It was a relief, knowing that she had someone to talk to there. About books and such. Well… maybe. He had referenced both Mark Twain and Frank Baum in a short amount of time, so she had hope. Now all she needed was a notebook and she could feel comfortable here. Well, almost.
She let several days pass before going back to the pens again, not wanting to seem too eager. She felt so silly, acting this way. Like some kind of school girl with a crush. The first time she’d returned after they’d met had been a bust and the second. But she had to remind herself it was statistically impossible that they wouldn’t see each other again. Maybe if she came earlier?
So that’s what she did, feeding the dogs bits of food from her breakfast hoping that the man would show up and they could talk again.