It was a good thing, really. Granted the Kings helped out when they could, out of caps or goodwill depending on which one you managed to hail down, which was always a plausible idea as well. It was… a bit difficult at times to miss the signs however; they certainly did make an impression and stood out against the dilapidated rubble that made up most of Freeside.
The twins would likely be happy for a new customer at that - they had a business to run after all, and new people trickling through meant more caps in their pockets and the likelihood of them meandering back through and stopping by if they found the service adequate enough.
“We must do what we can to assist the people within the wasteland who need our help. Hopefully my own work will bear fruition at some point to assist, but I’m not holding my breath with that.” That self depreciation again, but it was uttered offhandedly - almost as if Arcade himself hadn’t noticed it. As if he simply continued to accept it as blatant fact.
That puff up hadn’t gone unnoticed and only earned a bemused look from the blond researcher as he snagged over his doctor’s bag, settling it on the small table beside the still wounded man. Now that the issue of the venom was mostly out of the way - without too many hitches with that - he could focus his attention on the injury itself. Another bottle of purified water was snagged up as well, although this one he withheld from his patient - it would be needed to clean out the injury itself.
“You don’t know what a ghoul is- no no, that one’s on me. I should’ve figured as much.” For a moment Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation - though whether it was towards the other man or towards himself was a good question - before he jerked a thumb in the direction out of the tent towards the mercenaries doing guard duty in the little area in front of the gate. “Miss Beatrix Russell out there is a ghoul, if you want an example. She’s one of the good ones, one of the ones who still retains her humanity. There’s ferals out in the desert who are less than friendly - they’ve lost everything that had once made them human.”
A short lesson but one nonetheless, and he hoped that he was paying enough attention that it might keep him alive for just that much longer. “And you are a flatterer, I see.” A half-smile there - he had a weakness towards compliments himself, so it was one that definitely wasn’t lost on him… even when it hadn’t been genuinely completed. Whoops. Still the reaction was amusing enough for all it was equally concerning… but again, what should he expect? This, obviously.
“McCree, hm? I’m Arcade.” Easy enough to remember there. “I do have some free time after this - just have to tell Julie I’m heading out so she doesn’t go looking for me around here in the unlikely chance I might be needed for something.”
A pause. “Stitches, from me… you poor soul. I’ll do my best, but you might find yourself eating those words.” He was chuckling however, as he opened the bag to snag out the few supplies before he motion towards the arm. “Arm out please. I’m going to clean the injury before closing it - there’s little reason not to, and it’s better to prevent infection when the opportunity arises. I feel I can safely assume you’re not likely looking to lose another arm.”
He frowned at the man continuing to put himself down, but the subject was gone with the wind before he could think to reply.
At the mention of the name, he suddenly recalled the honest-to-god zombie that watched him walk through the gates when he arrived at the humble little fort. It had his hackles up the second he strolled in, but seeing her among other human beings had quieted the alarm in his chest quickly. There was a lot he didn’t know now, so it seemed.
“No harm in it, I reckon.” he grinned at the innocuous accusation. “You seem like you could use a little praise there, doc.”
Arcade. He ought to remember that.
“Well, Dr. Arcade, you ain’t instillin’ much confidence in your patient.” he chuckled, holding his injured arm out to the side with little more than a wince. “Only way you’re gonna get better is with practice. I’d say I’m the perfect test dummy. But, yeah, if I could keep the arm that would be great.”
He grew quiet after a moment, allowing the gravity of his situation to sink itself in. To tally the mess up, not only had he gotten lost out in a radiated wasteland, but he had also managed to somehow get thrown ahead in time some 200 some-odd years. It was a huge pill to swallow, but he didn’t quite have much of a choice now that he had walked so far into the thick of it without his knowledge. The emotional weight of such a complete shift obviously hadn’t hit him yet, but he was sure it’d come on full force sooner than later. Until then, all he could do was roll with the punches.
“Y’know, somethin’ you said earlier is still buggin’ me. Why did you ask if I was from a vault?”
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