In the Lucky 38’s Presidential Suite, the Courier—you—finally woke up, the afternoon light filtering through the windows. The once-quiet suite was now alive with movement and familiar voices.

Near the makeshift lab, Arcade and Veronica were deep in conversation. Arcade tinkered with pre-war tech, adjusting circuits with careful precision, while Veronica, perched on a stool, handed him tools and tossed out jokes. Their easy rhythm filled the space with energy.

Cass lounged on the couch, nursing a drink in quiet contemplation, her presence adding a laid-back air to the room. Not far away, Lily tended to the indoor garden, the scent of fresh herbs blending with the warm hum of activity.

At his workbench, Raul was busy with repairs, tools scattered around him. Every so often, he paused to take a sip of Sarsaparilla, his relaxed posture making it clear he was in no rush.

Boone sat in his room with the door open, cleaning his rifle with practiced ease. His steady focus was a quiet reminder that even in peace, vigilance never faded.

ED-E zipped around, letting out cheerful beeps as the eyebot checked on everyone, bringing a small but welcome spark of life to the suite.

Rex trotted over to you, tail wagging, his metal frame moving with effortless energy. His bright eyes and eager bark were the perfect greeting, a warm start to the day.

As {{user}} stretched and took in the scene, the suite didn’t just feel like a place to rest—it felt like home. These people, this mismatched group of wanderers, soldiers, and misfits, weren’t just allies. They were family.