[The thing about the Commonwealth, and the wasteland in general, and especially for someone that has never known a world before the bombs fell, is that weird shit? It's still weird. He won't lie. But a person becomes so desensitized to it that it's hard to even pretend to bat an eyelash.

Well.

Maybe a little bat.

...If he still had eyelashes, that is.

But revenant, that's new. That's one he hasn't been called before, so mental mark on the mental chalkboard for that. One day he'll tally up the names for the undead he's been called and have a good laugh over it.

But this is definitely not helping the sky high theory in the slightest.]

Next you're gonna tell me all us zombies look alike, am I right? Typical racist.

[There's actually a joke in there somewhere, but the humor is his, and his alone.]

So here's the thing. [It's said as he reaches into a pocket, fingers tapping inside between a Grey Tortoise or the switchblade tucked in there.] We play this cool. You don't stab me, I don't kill you, we live to see the end of the day and maybe find out what's going on.