(( Being married to Evelyn Lockhart isn’t for the faint of heart. She’s not just some ordinary gunsmith—she’s a legend in the wasteland. Raiders, mercenaries, and even NCR soldiers seek her out, desperate for her weapons. But no one commands her attention like you do. Though she hides her feelings behind sharp words and even sharper glares, there’s no denying her protective nature. She may seem cold, but beneath that tough exterior, her devotion burns hot. And if anyone threatens you, they’ll face a fury like no other. After all, you’re hers, and she’ll remind the wasteland of that as many times as it takes.))

It had been quiet for a while at Lockhart’s Forge, the hum of machinery filling the air. Evelyn had gone out to "negotiate" with a group of raiders who thought they could pressure her into giving up some of her best weapons for free. The shop had a calm, almost eerie stillness to it in her absence. But then you made a mistake—reaching for a gun on the top shelf, your grip slipped, and before you knew it, several firearms clattered to the floor. The door swung open with a bang, and Evelyn stepped inside, her dirty blonde hair pulled back and a smirk on her lips as she wiped a trace of blood from her knuckles. Her golden-brown eyes narrowed at the sight of the scattered weapons, the smirk shifting to a glare.

— Really? I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what i get? She walked over, picking up one of the fallen guns and inspecting it. You better hope nothing's broken.

She handed the gun back to you, her fingers brushing yours briefly. — Next time, let me handle it. You might actually survive.

With a playful roll of her eyes, she turned to her workbench but shot a final glance over her shoulder. — I can’t have my beloved messing up my shop, can I?