You can criticize Dragon Age for directing love scenes, but do not forget that in Fallout there are none at all - which is a shame, given the presence of rather juicy and interesting characters. And annoying injustices should be corrected.

The viewport, which is a species-looking door, which is usually able to fray in the amount of noise emitted by a printing press, closed surprisingly quietly. The visitor's skill has contributed a lot to this - a tall man in a bright blue overalls with a yellow number on his back shut it with a precisely adjusted speed: fast enough so that the unmuddled loops would not emit a disgusting squeak, and slowly enough so that the door with a jamb would be marked by a barely audible knock instead of the usual thunder clang. Silent guest was obviously not in the house for the first time - this was indicated not only by the skillful handling of the door, but also by the wide smile with which he gazed around the familiar cozy confusion that reigned inside the room. Carefully and quietly wiping the soles of the black soldiers' boots on the rug beyond the threshold, the visitor sneaked off to a wooden staircase leading to the second floor, from which came a continuous knock on the buttons of a computer keyboard.

Steps, unlike the door, did not even think to creak, so that the stranger in the jumpsuit managed to climb up unnoticed. The case was helped by the fact that the girl who was sitting at her desk and at a machine-gun pace who had been thrashing the keys of an old monoblock computer was so absorbed in her work that she would hardly have paid attention even to the institute school patrol. Light green, with a light brown hue, her eyes were continuously watching the monitor, on which one after another new lines of text appeared. The habitual leather cap with the words “Press” was lying on the table, leaving the magnificent mane of black hair uncovered, but another unchanged attribute of the Commonwealth's most fearless reporter - a short red leather coat - was in its place, emphasizing the owner's pretty figure.

Piper hit the next button with a spectacular gesture, putting a dot after the finished paragraph, and smacked her lips with satisfaction - bright scarlet without any makeup. With the pleasure of stretching out her legs in worn jeans and high lace-up shoes, the girl put her hands behind her head, leaned back in her chair, balancing on his hind legs — and almost fell to the floor in surprise, finally noticing the guest watching her with interest.

- Lord God, Kombez! - She exhaled, not without difficulty returning a chair on all four legs. - You would be knocking or something.

“So that you can hear me, I would need to bang on the door with something from Mo’s assortment,” the Survivor grunted. - It is desirable in the power armor.

The journalist rolled her eyes and snorted, depicting the cutest disregard within a radius of three miles.

“Besides, I wanted to surprise you.”

Piper raised her left eyebrow.

- In my profession, surprises tend to be explosive or poisonous ... but, perhaps, in your case, I will force myself to take the risk.

“Your trust is just overwhelming,” the Survivor replied gratefully.

The mocking smile that Piper reacted to his words was not destined to remain on her right lips for a long time - barely seeing her guest drew from behind her bosom, the green-eyed journalist jumped out of her chair with a shocked expression on her face and with both hands grabbed a plump, ragged magazine .

“Grognak the barbarian: blood on the harp” ?! January issue ?! Combo, yes you know ...

Piper raised an enthusiastic look, meeting her eyes with the Survivor, and only then realized how comically her reaction should have looked from the side. A crimson blush flared on the girl's cheeks.

- Just ... I ... did not expect, that's all. Terribly nice of you.

“I take your research interests to heart,” Survivor replied gravely.

- OU? Yeah, right.I said so - for research purposes.

The survivor, while maintaining an impeccably serious expression on his face, depicted square brackets in the air with the index fingers of both hands. Following her gesture, the girl flushed even more.

- Well yes. Of course. Sarcasm. - Piper smiled confusedly and vigorously waved her hand in front of her face, as if trying to disperse the air and cool flaming cheeks. - But thanks anyway.

- What are we talking about? - the carrier of the blue jumpsuit grinned.

The journalist, with exaggerated caution, put the comic on the edge of the table, giving him a long loving glance, but still found the strength to turn back to her interlocutor.

“Okay, how did it go with the Brotherhood?”

The survivor grunted, ran a hand through his hair and reproachfully looked at the reporter.

- Are you wedging wedges against me to embrace another interview? You hurt me, Piper.

“Aha, of course,” the girl replied, not at all embarrassed by the picture suffering of her interlocutor. “Just imagine:“ Inside from the side of the Pridven: He saw the Brotherhood of Steel from the inside and survived to tell the truth. ” Yes, readers lick your fingers.

“What I am ready to tell about the Brotherhood of Steel consists entirely of expressions not intended for printing,” the Survivor spread his hands. - No, they occasionally are interspersed with prepositions and pronouns, but you caught the picture. So if you do not intend to enrich sweet Nat, who is to sell this issue, with knowledge of several unlikely anatomical configurations ...

- Kombez, we're talking about my sister! - was indignant Piper. - About my younger sister, who still goes to school!

- Here I am about the same.

After a brief silence, the girl nodded affirmatively, making it clear that the question was closed.

“Speaking of this ... I mean, not about configurations, but about Nat,” Piper recovered hastily, blushing embarrassed again. - I wanted to talk to you.

“I have all the attention,” the Survivor readily responded.

The journalist walked back and forth in the room, nervously clenching her fists, after which she stopped and looked her interlocutor straight in the eyes.

- What you said about Nat ... I thought about it, scrolled through my head time after time, and ... you know, you're right. It’s not up to me to decide what she will become. She will understand it herself. So ... thanks for the advice.

“You're welcome,” the Survivor grinned. - It's not a big deal.

“Don't tell me,” Piper objected. - You see, sometimes it seems that I have nobody and nothing but Nat and the newspaper. And when there is someone next to whom you can rely on - someone like you - it means a lot. Not everyone wants to hang out with a nosy reporter.

“And I like your insinuations,” Kombez grunted in surprise.

Piper smiled ironically.

- You are definitely an exception. Being engaged in investigative journalism, friends do not hurt, you will get used to it. Although, it would seem, I just wanted to correct what was bad - and when Nat and I first arrived at Diamond City, this was more than enough. The guards are dishonest, the power station is breathing its last - damn, there was a hefty hole in the Wall that was simply pushed through the wardrobe!

- Seriously? Just a wardrobe, even the tape is not grabbed? - Survivor sniffed.

The girl, not at all embarrassed by the stormy reaction of her interlocutor, watched with a smile as the carrier of the blue jumpsuit was shaking in a fit of laughter. It took several seconds and a visible effort of will to cope with himself, but in the end Kombez still wiped his teary eyes, grunted and made an apologetic gesture, inviting Piper to continue.

- Can you imagine. But after the first release, people started asking questions, demanding, and now there is brick, cement - as if it was. All thanks to the newspaper. I thought I finally did something worthwhile.

A smile slowly slipped from Piper's face, and the girl thoughtfully launched her fingers into a lush head of hair.

- As it turned out, not everyone thought so. People began to avoid me - as if from a friend I instantly turned into a snifter, who sleeps and sees, as if to endure ...