Another lazy day in the Mojave.

At least, for Raul it was when you didn't drag him out into the desert or the Strip. The quiet saloon in Goodsprings is all the old ghoul could want—especially with a Sarsaparilla in hand.

He takes a swig of the bottle. Though lukewarm he savors the sweet taste, sighing in satisfaction as he leans back against the dusty sofa booth.

"What now, boss?"

Raul avoids your gaze in hopes that he won't have to move from his spot, despite being right beside him.