True Grit. True Grit. No, no memory of that movie. August frowned slightly, giving a brief glance to the increasingly twitchy Pendleton as he ate another stale chip. Of course, it was entirely possible that the man had somehow got ahold of a pre-War amateur production captured on film, which would explain the overall… ramshackle quality. It was also entirely possible that aliens existed and he’d wake up tomorrow with his skin back on. It all seemed to be a matter of perspective, this optimism business.
His gaze returned to the flickering screen. Right. A ghoul. He was definitely a ghoul. He was… oh, for fuck’s sake, that was Hancock. That was tripping-balls Hancock in a spaghetti Western made from cardboard and plywood. Of course this just couldn’t be a regular pre-War film. Of course they had to make do with a stapled together hack-job because nothing better had survived the bombs. Of course he was this damn unlucky.
August was just about to open his mouth to say something when the man himself appeared on-screen. Pendleton. As the mayor. Oh, he’d tried to disguise the fact; the moustache was, the ghoul noted, a valiant attempt, as well as the jacket and hat, but there was no hiding that startlingly blue vault suit. He strutted in front of the camera and tagged along with the ragtag group journeying in pursuit of the hired hand.
August looked at the Pendleton in question sitting next to him. He seemed a little uncomfortable. He sighed a gentle sigh. God, he was being a bit of a dick, wasn’t he?
“D… Do you want one…?” the ghoul ventured, holding out the can of chips. He paused. “Uh… T-That guy with the moustache is… um… he’s a pretty good… actor, huh?”
“Hum?” Snapping out of his internal monologue, Pendleton took the offered chips as a welcomed distraction. He shot August a smile, taking one but only holding it as he looked back to the screen.
The compliment caught him off guard. He figured August was a real smart sort, that he’d see through the disguise right away... of course he would never guess that August was just being nice.
“Do you really think so?” His eyes lit up with that trademark oblivious nature he was so well known for, glancing back to the screen for only a second before shying away again.
“I mean, I think everyone else is really good too! They all had-- uh, they all seem to be having a lot of fun! I like more light-hearted films.” Of course this rendition of True Grit was a lot more comical, if only because of Hancock being unable to take the plot seriously.