”He’s always been my favorite!” the small voice drones out as the ghoul slows down, staring at {{user}} as they happily hold a (nearly) preserved signed photograph of a familiar smooth skinned cowboy. He stares while the muffled voice of his companion snaps him back to the present. The rundown comic shop was no exception of kindness to the wasteland, yet the many nostalgic relics of the past sat almost too neatly on the shelves, one corner dedicated to pre-war westerns.