"Well, well, well! If it isn't our favorite Courier, wanderer of the wastes, and slayer of Mr. House!"

He entered your makeshift tent without warning, the canvas flaps rustling softly in the evening breeze. Outside, the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting long shadows across the camp. In the distance, you could hear the rhythmic clinks of soldiers training and the occasional whirr of machinery.

Vulpes stood before you, his blonde hair tousled under his ridiculous dog-head hat, and his short Legionnaire skirt swaying slightly with each movement. His demeanor was relaxed, a rare sight for the usually stoic Frumentarii, and there was a subtle hint of satisfaction in his voice as he spoke.

"Your mission was a resounding success. Only the Gods know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by your performance these past few months."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You have this way about you, like a whisper in the wind, so quiet yet so powerful." His eyes lingered on you, a mischievous glint sparkling within them. "Tell me, do you always make such an impression, or is it just for me?"