Why? Good question. One Nux doesn't know. Snorts in response to such a question not out of mockery so much as something childish and self-congratulating. "-- 'cause I did something that pleased!" Nux's voice is bright and proud of himself in a way that isn't arrogant. Each day, he doubts himself. But then a miracle like this occurs. Something inexplicable! Something that shines and restores all his lost faith. He glances at the flamethrower crooked next to him, splaying fond fingers over what counts for its belly, like it's a pet.

Then he shifts attention just as fast and reaches up to touch the brim of the hat. Grabs it and rubs the material between his fingers without asking because that's just what you did at the Citadel and it was never any different. He focuses on the fabric as long as he's allowed.

"I like your hat." One quick nod. Affirmation. It's a good hat.