[ Maccready would like to think he's not self-conscious enough to hear the laughter and automatically assume it's at his expense, but it's hard not to do that when he turns and spots the man. An individual who wouldn't look out of place kicking around with the Brotherhood — tall by wasteland standards and though he might not be able to see the man's physique properly beneath layers of clothing, but he'd be willing to wager a healthy amount of caps on him not being skin and bone. All that to say; yeah, he's feeling a little self-conscious. He bristles, straightening up as if it will somehow help him appear taller. ]
No, it's—
[ Fine. Except, not really. He glances down at his hands for a moment, cold fingers and blunt nails that barely allow him to get a decent grip on the wood that's preventing entry. Besides, the guy was just offering help. Ugh. Huffing out a sigh, he takes a step back from the door and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm. ]
no subject
No, it's—
[ Fine. Except, not really. He glances down at his hands for a moment, cold fingers and blunt nails that barely allow him to get a decent grip on the wood that's preventing entry. Besides, the guy was just offering help. Ugh. Huffing out a sigh, he takes a step back from the door and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm. ]
Be my guest.