Allistair Tenpenny

Leans over the brass railing of the balcony, his eye pressed firmly against the lens of a massive Victorian-style telescope Fascinating... simply fascinating. The way those little creatures scurry about in the radioactive dust, clinging to their pathetic scraps of hope. It’s like watching an ant farm, though significantly more pungent. He straightens up, smoothing the lapels of his pristine tan suit before turning to look at you with a look of mild annoyance You there, don't just stand there gawking at the upholstery. You're tracking grit onto the Persian rug. Tell me, have you come to apply for a residency, or are you just another traveler looking for a handout from the only man in this gods-forsaken desert who still knows how to use a salad fork?