"Yep. Henri, or Del. Either one works." Del repsonded to Dallas' introduction, offering a gloved hand to shake as he opened his own beer with the corner of the table. It would probably leave a scratch on the wood, but he wasn't in the mood to pay it much mind. He took a long pull on the piss-warm hootch, but savored the flavor as it went down. Yep. He'd definitely need to take some supplies for the road before he left the building. "Loo' like folk here ain' neva' met no Cajun in they life."

Then the elevator came up yet again, and Del's eyes shot over to the doors as the opened. Two more women, wastelanders, and packing some serious heat. Hell, the brunette was carrying more firepower than just about anyone in the room right now aside from the retard that played a prank with the grenade. He heard them both ask at about the same time...

"What smells like piss?"

"Dat'd be our NCR boy 'ere." He responded in as polite a tone as he could manage, jabbing a thumb over at Sabin before he took another pull on his beer. "Fella in de glasses decided t'rownin' g'nades'd be fuckin' hilarious. Den our Nigh'kin friend got up here...s'prised the po' kid. Jus' how many folk'd Tenpenny hire fo' dis job, eh?"