"It's good to see you too". The Steersman looked on the old man's face, the wrinkles masking the young man that had been replaced by madness.
"Why do you come each week?" asked Tenpenny. "Because I want to know you, I want know how you came here, I want to know about England. You only hint at that land, I'm not even sure it existed"
"Oh, It existed, I remember the hills, the fields and and the smell of the yew trees". Tenpenny laid back and inhaled, drowned in his daydreams.
"And this is your England of the wastes Mr Tenpenny?" asked the Steersman.
"Oh no, this was all I could offer to these people. I wanted a safe haven to everyone who eaned it, there is no nobility here, only survivors"
The Steersman looked in Tenpenny's eyes, "They seem rather self-absorbed to me". Tenpenny nodded,
"Yes, the have made their lives fit a stereotype, and I have encouraged that. It may be a delusional life, but it is a life. Every person in this building earned the privilidge to be here, each could have been a raider or raider bait but they didn't, if they seem arrogant, they deserve to be".
The Steersman unhooked the .33 at his belt. "Megaton, Mr Tenpenny, why did you want it destroyed?"
Tenpenny smiled, "No son, I didn't want that at all, I simply mentioned to Burke that it was an eyesore... which it is, I didn't want them dead."
"People hate you Mr Tenpenny, people want you dead."
Tenpenny poured another glass of wine, "I know that Mr Steersman, I'm an 80 year old man, I've built a community against the odds, I've travelled the oceans, I've rebuilt a decrepid tower and I drink too much milk."
The Steersman couldn't resist a chuckle. "So" said Tenpenny "I expect to be hated, and I expect one day a a 19 year old will have the the will to throw this old man off this balcony, but I'll go fighting."
"Same time next week?" said the Steersman, "Same time next week..." said the old man.