There was something.... off, about this guy. Painted glass optics leered at him from across the room, watching every little move he made. He was dressed awful nice for someone in Goodneighbor-- clean and well groomed, like he just stepped off the assembly line or something.
Maybe he was rich, maybe he had money on him. Maybe he was lonely and generous with that money. That was usually her first thoughts when she saw someone like that; even if she wasn’t in Vegas anymore, nice clothes and clean-cut usually meant you had the money to do so.
“Hi~!” She said, approaching the man in the suit, sweet, cat-like smile on her face. “What’re you doing in a dump like this? You don’t look like a scavver-- or a mercenary, for that matter. Do you need help finding a safer place?”