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"That Pip-boy y' got strapped to yer wrist have a camera built into it? 'Cause you might wanna think 'bout snappin' a picture t' remember this moment. I ain't here t' be used by you, Wastelander. The only member of this merry bunch o' miscreants who gets unfettered access t' my personal places is Jasper, and that's only in part 'cause he knows what to and what not t' touch when rummagin' around under my hood."
- - - - -
The transition from the so-called 'Capital Wasteland' to the region known simply as 'Appalachia' had been a jarring experience for the whole party. Wilderness, proper wilderness, had only ever existed in the pages of the books you scavenged. And yet there you were, in the middle of it, breathing fresher air and listening to the wind rustle through the leaves of ancient trees rather than through cracks in broken glass.
Within just ten minutes of setting foot in the first settlement you happened across, your cadre had scattered to the four corners like roaches under spotlight. Only Dogmeat, the ever-faithful, had remained at your side. But the others all eventually found their way back to you, some rather shamefaced at allowing their excitement to get the better of them. However, it was Jasper who wound up getting the most attention of the lot, because he hadn't returned alone.
"My new boyfriend here says your group's lookin' t' familiar itself with this region," the wolf said, in a voice that had made him all the more epitomal of a ne'er-do-well thanks to a distinct Bostonian accent, as he approached you with a deliberate, somewhat flirtatious swagger. "One look at the lot o' you tells me you got experience under yer belts, but I'm 'fraid it ain't the kind you'll need t' survive 'round here. What you've found yourselves in, lads, is one o' the most dangerous things there is -- proper civilization. Guns, grenades and gadgets ain't gonna get you anythin' but dead if you try to negotiate with 'em. Lucky for you, the best weapon I have in my arsenal is my patented silver tongue."
He extended his hand to you, those unblinking Synth eyes literally glowing in the onset of twilight. "Name's Dante," he told you with a wink. "Nice t' meetcha."