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Summary
He calls himself a Vault Dweller, and maybe that's true, but Hancock can see it, Daisy can see it. They all can see it.
There's something like danger that whispers in the wind where he walks, a spell of bad luck that tracks in his footsteps.
"Trouble," Hancock says. "He's trouble."
Fahrenheit shoots him a look. "We could use a little trouble around here, boss."
He grins and it's feral enough to set her teeth on edge. "Yeah, sister. Yeah we could."