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Owner Pose
Bart Bart is currently fixing over one of the exam rooms to make it easier to install his gear when he comes. The giant suit case he brought is open and the frame on wheels is carrying the small car engine that was inside. Varying lenses aim off of the device towards the medical bed. He's wearing his lab coat and spectacles, currently humming an old timey song and lost in his own little world.
Beefrow Beefrow, having just walked to Avalon, and then back, after fighting a horde of Enclave one day after another, trudges slowly, so slowly, into the clinic. The sound of metal dragging comes from his sledgehammer's head, as he carries it limply in one hand into the building. Each footstep is a little squishy, the blood in his old leather boots pooling up. Within his thick, bone-reinforced leather armor, Beefrow Thurgood's body is riddled with bullet holes. He stops, in the middle of the clinic, looking around, until he spots Bart.

To the man with the lab coat and spectacles, the mountain of a raider says, in a deep and bellowing voice, "Are you a doctor?"
Bart Bart turns around at the scraping of the hammer and he blinks up at the mountain of a man. He just shakes his head and exhales. "Leave your hammer by the door," it's not really a request. Weapons are simply not allowed inside the Clinic. Wrinkling his nose, he looks Beefrow over before simply nodding. "I am. Can you pay?" it's a legitimate question from the man wearing a fancy suit and wirerim glasses. "Mm, if you can afford the seventy five caps, I can take care of that," he points the smashed bits. "Please remove any metal from your person and remove clothing from effected areas. Unless you want the fibers incorporated into your muscular structure," he laughs a bit manicly and then goes about booting up the engine, flicking switches so that it starts whirring to life.
Beefrow Beefrow complies, trudging back over gormlessly to lay his hammer down. He's stripping out of his leather armor to reveal .50 caliber exit wounds on his back, a line of them from automatic spray. Silently, the raider tosses down his armor, nodding aside to Bart, "I have bottlecaps and porn." He considers his experience with doctors in the past, and makes his expectations clear, "I don't want... fibers.. in my muscles. Just heal me." The big man is confused, but not that confused. He eyes the contraption of Bart's with skepticism and Obvious concern.
Bart Bart doesn't notice the skepticism, or if he does he doesn't acknowledge it, he just keeps merrily powering on his machine. The whirring starts reaching a pitch and he drops his goggles down over his eyes. Air pressure suddenly changes and cause ears to pop as he aims the lenses at the table. "Lay down please. I only need caps. My brother is the Knox after porn," he informs the huge man clinically and without much emotion. All of his feelings are reserved for the machinery.
Beefrow Frowning faintly, digging a massive finger into his ear to release the pressure, or try, Beefrow lays down on the table. He tugs at his armor, retrieving a sack of caps from his pants, before offering them over. "I am Beefrow Thurgood. Highway fifty-four is my land." It isn't readily clear why he said that.
Bart Bart looks at the caps then back at the man, taking them he returns to his work while pocketing the cash. "No one really owns land, Beefrow," he tells the man with an impatient sigh. "You simply reside there longer than others for a while. Eventually you die like everyone else, and then the land is still there. So are you so sure you don't belong to the Highway 54?" he asks curiously and then there's a low THUMP, as the pressure shifts back and a light emits from the machine and smacks right into Beefrow and those bullet holes. Slowly but surely, the wounds seal shut, like they'd just been advanced through time.
Beefrow Amazed, first by the knowledge bomb, then by healing lasers, Beefrow tries to plead with the good doctor not to derail his entire sense of purpse, "I ... claim Highway fifty-four as my territory, where the clan Thurgood makes it's home. Maybe... /Maybe/ I also belong to Highway fifty-four. I also patrol it." He's touching the bullet wounds to see if this isn't some illusion. "How?"
Bart Bart doesn't seem to give two whits for anyone's so called purpose. He is a scientist, he is there for logic and reason and the advancement of mankind! "The miracle of particle physics, my friend!" Bart seems more than pleased with himself, "Pre-war technology that could have avoided the catastrophe. The atom got us into this mess, the particle will get us out, I tell you," he sells the Kool-Aid he made up. "Well, if the land is your home, it's different isn't it," he chimes in as the lights go off and his goggles go up. Beefrow might see spots for a few hours, but otherwise he feels great. "Living on a piece of land is what we do though, yes? We give back what we take, or we get radroaches and molerats for our efforts. It is what separates us from the beasts and mutants, my man. Civilization and society are all we have to combat the wastelands." The pinging of the cooling metal slows and the doctor moves around to check his work. "Mmm, you may see spots for a little while. Your pee may come out a fun color, but you're all set."
Beefrow "Purple will be fun, can I have purple" Beefrow clearly doesn't understand this part of the doctor's instructions. "You are right, about... combating the wastelands. I have come to El Dorado, to speak to this President of yours, and tell the Federation it will give my land and people water, and medicine, and I will fight their wars, and crush their enemies." He bends to start picking up his clothes again, examining Bart, "You can be my missionary, if you wish, and heal my people with your laser guns, and I will make you strong, and into a Thurgood." He considers his offer, then adds, "There will be women."
Bart Bart shrugs a bit, "It might be chartreuse for all I know," he says with a matter of fact tone that doesn't say he's terribly worried either. "Be careful with Miss Caine. She's sharp." That's the only warning he gives and then finally flicks the last switch on his device back off. The offer has the eldest Knox brother blinking quickly. "If you or your people need healing, just save up your caps and any quality scrap you find, I will take both as payment. I don't much care for politics though, my only duty is to my brother." he nods firmly and then his face twitches some, inspecting the huge man again to make sure he isn't leaving injured.
Beefrow Beefrow squints at the advice, nodding faintly, "I will be smart with her, then. Thank you, Doctor. You will pay no taxes in my lands, and are welcome to my hospitality." Once fully armored again, Beefrow slips his helmet back on, and dips his head low as a sign of respect, "Fare Well, Healer." He turns towards the door, moving to retake his weapon, and continue his quest.