[ back in the old days, she would have returned some curt answer to this innocent question - both because she hadn't wanted to keep having these little conversations with him and because she'd always known that nobody was going to come back to any of this. She almost does it anyway, out of sheer habit, and it leads to a pause before she responds. Avoiding all the painful things had been the best way of dealing with them. But now... ]

I don't know if there's anything we can do with it. [ there's no distancing bite in her response - just her usual bluntness. She looks at the grimy, unfamiliar object in her companion's hand, and doubts there's any use left in it at all. At the same time, leaving everything their creators had made to rot doesn't feel right, either - illogical as that is. ] I doubt many of our records on human history survived when the Bunker fell.

[ ... ]

Maybe... [ ... maybe they should hold onto things like this, because they barely have anything else left that showed humans even existed. But it sounds like unnecessary sentiment to her, even now, so she bites her lip. ] ... Nevermind. What do you think?