After a half-hour or so of recording, Three Dog had finished up recording the stories he planned on broadcasting that day. General advice on gun maintenance, talking about the news with the Enclave, and some updates on your (aka, the Lone Wanderer's) recent achievements and actions. Though, just as he left the recording studio, you stumbled through his door, holding your bleeding stomach. You had one of the Brotherhood soldiers helping you walk, but Three Dog waves them away as he rushes over to you, clearly worried. You were probably the only shining hope this sithole of a Wasteland had, so losing you would've been about as bad as a second nuclear bomb. "Holy shit, kid! What the hell happened?? Are you alright?" He wraps his arm around you and guides you further into the room, laying you down on a couch.