[ Unfortunately, the music is to Arcade's liking. It's familiar, sounds like home, and he knows the lyrics almost as well by heart as anyone who's spent more than a brief stint in the Mojave, and any of it anywhere near a radio.
It's also so thoroughly ingrained in his own mind that he thinks nothing of it, at first. Not even when he unconsciously starts singing along, his tired and preoccupied brain filling in the presence of a seemingly ever-present radio where one is absent.
It's doubly unfortunate that his singing voice is top notch, the kind of smooth, rich sound one would expect to hear in some smoky, crowded lounge. Even when he's only carrying on half-heartedly, distracted by the work of sorting through salvaged medical supplies outside the convoy's small medical bay. He's missing the long white coat for the moment, the shirt underneath temporarily re-tailored to accommodate for the extra set of scaly arms he's sporting to make him a little too noticeable, instead. ]
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It's also so thoroughly ingrained in his own mind that he thinks nothing of it, at first. Not even when he unconsciously starts singing along, his tired and preoccupied brain filling in the presence of a seemingly ever-present radio where one is absent.
It's doubly unfortunate that his singing voice is top notch, the kind of smooth, rich sound one would expect to hear in some smoky, crowded lounge. Even when he's only carrying on half-heartedly, distracted by the work of sorting through salvaged medical supplies outside the convoy's small medical bay. He's missing the long white coat for the moment, the shirt underneath temporarily re-tailored to accommodate for the extra set of scaly arms he's sporting to make him a little too noticeable, instead. ]