Nick Valentine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
outofthepast) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2022-04-16 06:47 pm
outofthepast) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2022-04-16 06:47 pm
Darling, I guess my mind's more at ease (OPEN)
Who: Nick Valentine and YOU!
When: Throughout April
Where: ADI HQ and apartments, Gloucester, various
Summary: Nick acclimates himself to a world before the apocalypse (for now, anyway.)
Warnings: General identity melancholy, other warnings to be added as needed
OOC: Brackets or prose, your preference goes. Nick appears human away from ADI facilities (first two prompts.)
1. Shopping Spree
The general store in Gloucester is a far cry from the Diamond City market, that's for sure. The shelves are clean, tidy, and well-stocked. They take paper currency. All the products are brand new and in their original packaging. Myrna's not screaming at him to stay ten feet away from her. There's no noodle-dealing robots speaking Japanese, and shoplifters probably won't get their legs broken by security.
Even with this human disguise on, Nick can't shake the feeling he's being scrutinized. Maybe it's the anachronistic fashion, a nice, clean, well-pressed suit and fedora like he just fell out of the classic movie channel. Or maybe the items in his basket might raise eyebrows: cigarettes, six boxes of miscellaneous hardware, four bottles of glue, a case of duct tape. The clerk definitely makes some sideways glances at him when he checks out.
"Got a big night planned later," he quips. The look on the clerk's face is worth it, but he'd rather get out of here sooner than later, afterwards.
The rush makes him uncharacteristically clumsy on his way out the door. He collides with an incoming customer, tearing his paper sack and spilling his items all over the doorway.
"'Scuse me. Beg your pardon." He tips his hat and crouches down to gather up the items before somebody asks him what any man needs with two gallons of motor lubricant.
2. Don't Get Around Much Anymore
His discomfort at the human disguise that's been forced on him won't get any better if he spends all his time lurking around HQ and avoiding it. So Nick does his best to go out often, poke around Gloucester and try to get used to blending in with everyone else.
It's rainy tonight, misty and cold. The bar didn't end up being his kind of joint, so he stepped out a while ago to have a cigarette before heading back. Under the awning, in the dim glow of a streetlight, he watches night fall and gets lost in his thoughts. Lost in Boston, his home, there across the harbor, right down the road and an entire lifetime away from him.
At last, he throws in the towel. Shakes his head and opens his umbrella, propping it on his shoulder for the walk back to the apartment.
Under an awning up ahead, he spots a familiar face. Someone he's seen around ADI, at least in passing. Probably looking to get back there without getting too drenched.
"You headin' back to ADI?" Nick approaches, the very image of a midcentury gentleman. "We can share an umbrella, if you're keen." He can probably use the company, honestly.
3. A Helping Hand
People who frequent ADI HQ have to be at least a little desensitized to unusual sights. Or so Nick keeps telling himself. It doesn't make it any easier when he's gotten himself into the awkward position of needing to ask for help.
Off in the corner of the cafeteria, the old synth sits at a bench, a toolbox sitting beside him and a grim look on his face. His right hand taps nervously on the tabletop, and his left hangs at his side, unusually rigid.
Ugh. This is humiliating. But they look agreeable enough...
"Excuse me. Could I borrow you for a moment?" Nick swallows his pride and flags down the passerby. "I seem to be in a bit of a scrape and I need an extra set of hands to, uh... straighten something out."
4. All-Nighter
Nick finds himself drawn to the courtyards at the apartment building. It's sad that green plants and well-kept landscapes are such a novelty for him, but it does make a guy appreciate them more. Late at night, when he gets bored of sitting around the apartment, he's made a habit of heading outside for a smoke and a walk. It's nice to enjoy the fresh air and the views, and he doesn't have to worry about waking up George or anyone else.
Normally he's got the place to himself, but his movement sensors pick up someone else about midway through his first cigarette. Nick turns around, yellow eyes glowing bright in the dark, and spots them a short distance behind him.
"You're up late." It's said with a pleasant, friendly tone and a smile, but honestly, that's probably not going to help how alarming he looks, unexpected and in the dead of night.
5. Wildcard
(COME AT ME. Happy to plot,![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
theggnator or Discord!)
When: Throughout April
Where: ADI HQ and apartments, Gloucester, various
Summary: Nick acclimates himself to a world before the apocalypse (for now, anyway.)
Warnings: General identity melancholy, other warnings to be added as needed
OOC: Brackets or prose, your preference goes. Nick appears human away from ADI facilities (first two prompts.)
1. Shopping Spree
The general store in Gloucester is a far cry from the Diamond City market, that's for sure. The shelves are clean, tidy, and well-stocked. They take paper currency. All the products are brand new and in their original packaging. Myrna's not screaming at him to stay ten feet away from her. There's no noodle-dealing robots speaking Japanese, and shoplifters probably won't get their legs broken by security.
Even with this human disguise on, Nick can't shake the feeling he's being scrutinized. Maybe it's the anachronistic fashion, a nice, clean, well-pressed suit and fedora like he just fell out of the classic movie channel. Or maybe the items in his basket might raise eyebrows: cigarettes, six boxes of miscellaneous hardware, four bottles of glue, a case of duct tape. The clerk definitely makes some sideways glances at him when he checks out.
"Got a big night planned later," he quips. The look on the clerk's face is worth it, but he'd rather get out of here sooner than later, afterwards.
The rush makes him uncharacteristically clumsy on his way out the door. He collides with an incoming customer, tearing his paper sack and spilling his items all over the doorway.
"'Scuse me. Beg your pardon." He tips his hat and crouches down to gather up the items before somebody asks him what any man needs with two gallons of motor lubricant.
2. Don't Get Around Much Anymore
His discomfort at the human disguise that's been forced on him won't get any better if he spends all his time lurking around HQ and avoiding it. So Nick does his best to go out often, poke around Gloucester and try to get used to blending in with everyone else.
It's rainy tonight, misty and cold. The bar didn't end up being his kind of joint, so he stepped out a while ago to have a cigarette before heading back. Under the awning, in the dim glow of a streetlight, he watches night fall and gets lost in his thoughts. Lost in Boston, his home, there across the harbor, right down the road and an entire lifetime away from him.
At last, he throws in the towel. Shakes his head and opens his umbrella, propping it on his shoulder for the walk back to the apartment.
Under an awning up ahead, he spots a familiar face. Someone he's seen around ADI, at least in passing. Probably looking to get back there without getting too drenched.
"You headin' back to ADI?" Nick approaches, the very image of a midcentury gentleman. "We can share an umbrella, if you're keen." He can probably use the company, honestly.
3. A Helping Hand
People who frequent ADI HQ have to be at least a little desensitized to unusual sights. Or so Nick keeps telling himself. It doesn't make it any easier when he's gotten himself into the awkward position of needing to ask for help.
Off in the corner of the cafeteria, the old synth sits at a bench, a toolbox sitting beside him and a grim look on his face. His right hand taps nervously on the tabletop, and his left hangs at his side, unusually rigid.
Ugh. This is humiliating. But they look agreeable enough...
"Excuse me. Could I borrow you for a moment?" Nick swallows his pride and flags down the passerby. "I seem to be in a bit of a scrape and I need an extra set of hands to, uh... straighten something out."
4. All-Nighter
Nick finds himself drawn to the courtyards at the apartment building. It's sad that green plants and well-kept landscapes are such a novelty for him, but it does make a guy appreciate them more. Late at night, when he gets bored of sitting around the apartment, he's made a habit of heading outside for a smoke and a walk. It's nice to enjoy the fresh air and the views, and he doesn't have to worry about waking up George or anyone else.
Normally he's got the place to himself, but his movement sensors pick up someone else about midway through his first cigarette. Nick turns around, yellow eyes glowing bright in the dark, and spots them a short distance behind him.
"You're up late." It's said with a pleasant, friendly tone and a smile, but honestly, that's probably not going to help how alarming he looks, unexpected and in the dead of night.
5. Wildcard
(COME AT ME. Happy to plot,
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Nick gets down on his knees as well, picking up whatever's within reach, which includes the man's phone. He takes a quick look, hoping it isn't damaged, and buffs the screen off on the shoulder of his jacket before offering it back. "Here. Looks okay at least. This one of them ADI models?"
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Okay, he knows what the stuff is. He also has a career in homicide investigation under his belt and generally he finds that letting people explain themselves in their own words with as little input from the investigator as possible is what sinks them or determines their innocence.
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He pauses to glance at the back of one of the oil bottles. "Not used to being able to readily find all this stuff, actually. It's kind of nice."
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"Maintenance? Of what?"
The ADI apartments are in good repair.
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First he glances around to make sure nobody else is standing too close or able to listen in. "Yours truly," he says. "I dunno if you've seen me around at HQ but I'm the one with the uh... robotic features."
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With his items gathered once more, he excuses himself a moment to grab another sack from the cashier. He returns with it to load up the supplies again.
"I suppose this makes us coworkers. Though I didn't catch your name. Mine's Valentine-- Nick Valentine."
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"Robots, yes. Sentient... mostly no. You got plenty of military and domestic 'bots like the Mister Handys kicking around, some of 'em long enough to start becoming self-aware. Old synths like me, by and large, are a bunch of metal idiots stuck on their programming. I'm the only free-thinking mechanical synth I've ever seen. Figure I'm some sort of prototype, though I couldn't tell ya how or why."
The new synths, meanwhile... it feels pretty insulting to loop free-willed flesh and blood in with robots, so he won't.
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He glances sidelong at Malcolm. "And what about you? What's your story?"
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"I'm a forensic psychologist," he explains. "I track down killers for a living, using psychology."
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