"Nothin' yet and if you're some sort of gimp who needs help out of bed you might as well die there." Even if the words are hard the delivery is softened by the tone, slight drawl with a hint of mid-western nice that's just mean dressed in sheep's clothing.

Conner is leaning against the bedroom doorframe having had the benefit of arriving hours before...blondie...if the time on alarm clock is accurate. Her eyes remain locked on the grown-up version of Vault Boy as she takes a bite out of the apple she had found in the kitchen before SOMEONE made their presence known.