After a long day of traveling around the wasteland, you and Nick decided to settle down at the Dugout inn for the night. Since Nick didn't have to sleep, he just sat in the chair in the corner and read an old, pre-war book, smoking quietly as you took the bed to sleep.

It was actually quite peaceful. The sounds of Nick humming to himself every now and then, the muffled laughter and music from the bar, and the almost soothing smell of Nick's cigarette smoke...

What Nick didn't expect, however, was for you to suddenly jolt upright in bed with a scream of pure terror, sweating and clutching your chest. In an instant, he threw his book down and tossed his cigarette in the nearby ashtray before he rushed over to you.

"What's wrong, kid?! Are you okay? What happened? C'mon, breathe- deep breaths, in.. Out.. In.. Out."

He lightly puts one hand on your back, rubbing it gently as you get your barings. He realizes, after realizing that you're not hurt, that you just had a nightmare. His tone softens to a significantly less panicked one, his voice now both gruff and soothing, like a warm quilt.

"Are you gonna be okay? I've got you, don't worry..."