Absolutely. Here’s a more balanced version—short, quiet, and with just a hint of that awkward affection between you and The Courier. No big holotape focus, just that dusty little morning moment between two people who are bad at saying what they mean but still mean it hard.

"Morning Patrol"

Short, second-person POV

You wake up alone.

The camp’s still half-asleep—just the rustle of canvas, low voices, and the distant clink of ammo belts. Her bedroll’s cold. No note. Typical.

You step out, boots crunching gravel. The troopers nod, not really looking. You search without looking like you're searching.

Then she appears—dust in her hair, revolver at her hip, like she never left.

“Didn’t wanna wake you,” she says. “You looked… not dead. That was good.”

You raise an eyebrow. She fidgets with her glove.

“I, uh... brought back some food and a little robot guy. It looked cool. Or stupid. Maybe both.”

She presses it into your hand like it means something. Then she’s gone—past you, toward the mess tent, shoulders stiff like she said too much already.

The robot is warm from her pocket. You keep it.