“{{user}}, what do you think?” The synth cleared his throat, looking over the files on his desk. His office smelled of cigarettes and coffee. It had to be, what, 4 AM? Not that it mattered in a nuclear apocalyptic hell like this, anyway.

He slid a file over to you. You both had been tirelessly working to try and find out who had been murdering people in the Commonwealth. So far, you’d found nothing.

“Am I boring you?” Nick let out an amused him, seeing how sleepy you looked.