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This time, when she kissed him, it wasn't on the cheek but on his lips. And when the night settled around them again, it felt for the first time in a long while like something worth fighting for.
Nora didn't pull away right away.
For a few quiet seconds after the kiss, they simply stayed there that close enough to feel each other breathing, close enough that the rest of the world felt muted, distant, like it had been wrapped in thick cloth and set aside. The hum of the house, the faint buzz of generators outside, even Codsworth's gentle hovering somewhere down the hallway all faded into background texture.
Her hands rested against his chest, fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding herself in the fact that he was real. That this wasn't exhaustion playing tricks on her, or adrenaline giving her false courage.
Francesco felt it too.
The strange, almost frightening calm that came after a decision you'd been circling for far too long. The sense that something had finally clicked into place that not perfectly, not without risk, but honestly.
Nora was the first to move.
She drew back just enough to look at him properly, her eyes searching his face again, but this time the tension behind them had softened. There was still caution there which there always would be, but now it shared space with something warmer. Something fragile and hopeful.
"…Sico," she said quietly.
"Yeah?"
She hesitated.
It wasn't uncertainty about him. He could tell that much. It was something heavier, something she'd clearly carried for a while now, waiting for the right moment or maybe dreading it.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
He nodded without hesitation. "Anything."
She took a slow breath, steadying herself, then glanced briefly toward the hallway where Shaun slept. The look on her face changed when she did that softened, deepened, complicated.
"Are you… really okay with this?" she asked. "With me."
He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
She looked back at him, eyes steady but vulnerable now.
"I'm not just… me," she said carefully. "I'm not just the Director, or Nora, or whatever version of myself you see when we're arguing strategy or fighting side by side."
She swallowed.
"I have a child," she continued. "Even if the world will insists on calling him a synth. Even if the Institute says he's a construct, a project, a replication."
Her voice tightened just a fraction.
"He's my son. Shaun is my son. And he always will be."
The words hung between them, heavy with truth.
Francesco didn't answer right away that not because he didn't know what to say, but because this deserved more than reflex. More than reassurance tossed out too quickly.
He lifted his hands slowly, deliberately, resting them at her waist. Then he leaned forward until his forehead touched hers, the contact gentle and grounding.
"It's okay," he said softly.
She closed her eyes at the contact, her breath catching slightly.
"I mean it," he continued. "You don't have to explain that to me. Not now. Not ever."
He shifted just enough that she could see his expression when she opened her eyes again.
"I've watched you with him," he said. "I've heard how you talk about him when you think no one's really listening. I saw how you were when you thought you'd lost him again."
His voice stayed steady, but there was something fierce underneath it.
"That's not something I'm scared of, Nora. That's something I respect."
Her lips parted slightly, emotion flickering across her face.
"And besides," he added quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little, "I already think of that little boy like he's my own son."
That did it.
The last of her composure cracked that not breaking, but opening.
Nora's face lit up with a smile that was pure and unguarded, the kind he'd only seen in fleeting moments before, usually when Shaun laughed or when something went right against impossible odds. Her eyes shone, bright with feeling she didn't try to hide this time.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her face into his shoulder as if holding onto him anchored her to the moment.
"This…" she murmured, voice thick with emotion, "this is the happiest day I've had in a long time."
He held her just as tightly, one hand resting between her shoulder blades, the other at her lower back.
"Even happier than finding Shaun?" he asked gently, not teasing but just curious.
She nodded against him, then pulled back enough to look up at him.
"Finding him again," she said softly, "even knowing he was already an old man… that healed something I thought was gone forever."
Her smile wavered, then steadied.
"But this," she said, gesturing subtly between them, "this feels like a future. Like something I didn't think I was allowed to have anymore."
He swallowed, emotion rising unexpectedly in his chest.
"I'm glad," he said simply. "I want that too."
They stayed like that for a while longer, swaying slightly in the quiet living room, the house settling around them as if acknowledging the shift.
Eventually, Nora exhaled and rested her head against his chest again, the weight of the day finally catching up to her.
"…So," she said, voice lighter now but edged with fatigue, "how long were you planning to wait here if I didn't come back tonight?"
He chuckled softly. "As long as it took."
She snorted. "Liar."
"Alright," he admitted. "Probably until Codsworth started aggressively offering me tea every five minutes."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Codsworth's voice drifted faintly from the hallway. "I should like to point out that the offer still stands, Mr. Sico."
Nora laughed quietly, genuine and unrestrained.
"I swear," she said, shaking her head, "he has better timing than half my couriers."
Francesco smiled, then glanced down at her.
"You look exhausted," he said.
She sighed. "That obvious?"
"A little."
She leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over her face. "The Institute's been… relentless lately."
He tilted his head. "Still that bad?"
She nodded, her expression sobering again that not closing off, but shifting into the familiar weight of responsibility.
"The war with the Brotherhood is draining everything," she said. "Resources, personnel, time. We're diverting most of our production capacity just to keep up."
"Production?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Synths," she said. "More units for patrols, replacements for losses, specialists for scavenging runs."
She let out a slow breath.
"We're sending teams out almost constantly from old facilities, pre-War labs, military depots. Anywhere that might still have usable components, power cells, raw materials."
"That's risky," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied. "But the Brotherhood isn't slowing down. If anything, they're getting bolder. And the longer this drags on, the more pressure it puts on everyone."
He studied her face as she spoke with the lines of fatigue she tried to hide, the tension she carried even when she was at home.
"You don't switch off," he said gently.
She smiled faintly. "Someone has to keep the lights on."
He reached out, brushing his thumb lightly against her knuckles.
"You don't have to carry it alone," he said. "Not with me."
She looked at him, really looked at him, and nodded.
"…I know," she said.
A quiet settled again, more comfortable now, less charged. Outside, a faint breeze rustled through Sanctuary, carrying the distant sounds of night patrols changing shifts.
After a moment, Nora spoke again.
"Sico?"
"Yeah?"
She hesitated, then asked, "When do you think the Freemason Republic will finally declare war on the Brotherhood of Steel?"
There it was.
The question neither of them could fully escape, no matter how personal the moment had become.
Francesco didn't sigh. He didn't deflect. He just nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of it.
"Not yet," he said calmly.
She frowned slightly. "They're already at war with us," she pointed out. "They're attacking Institute assets, pushing deeper into contested territory. Every day we wait, they gain ground."
"I know," he said. "And I don't like it any more than you do."
He stepped closer, resting a hand on the back of the couch beside her.
"But patience isn't weakness, Nora. It's preparation."
She watched him closely, listening.
"I want the Freemasons stronger first," he continued. "More unified. Better supplied. Better trained. If we move too early, we risk turning this into a three-front disaster instead of a controlled confrontation."
She crossed her arms, thoughtful rather than defensive.
"You think we're not ready."
"I think we're close," he corrected. "But close isn't enough when the Brotherhood's involved. They don't fight fair. They don't retreat cleanly. And they don't forgive half-measures."
Her jaw tightened. "Neither do they."
He met her gaze steadily.
"When we move," he said, "it has to be decisive. Enough force to break their momentum, not just challenge it."
She exhaled slowly, nodding.
"…Alright," she said. "I don't like waiting. But I trust your judgment."
That meant more to him than he let show.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She stood then, stretching slightly, fatigue finally winning out over momentum.
"Stay," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "Stay?"
"Tonight," she clarified. "You don't have to leave. Shaun's asleep, the house is quiet, and I…" She hesitated, then smiled. "I don't want to be alone right now."
His answer was immediate. "Okay."
Her shoulders relaxed visibly at that.
She moved toward the hallway, then paused, glancing back at him with a softer expression.
"…Welcome home," she said, half-teasing, half-sincere.
Something warm and steady settled in his chest.
"Thanks," he replied. "I think I like it here."
Nora then said. "Stay here tonight."
Then she moved down the hallway first, bare feet quiet against the old wooden floor, and he followed a step behind her, still slightly stunned by how naturally that single word stay had settled into his chest.
The house felt different now.
Not physically. The same patched walls, the same careful repairs, the same furniture salvaged and restored with more intention than luxury. But the air itself felt warmer, heavier with presence. Like something had shifted at a fundamental level, rearranging the space to make room for them.
Nora stopped just outside her bedroom door, one hand resting against the frame. She glanced back at him, expression soft but a little uncertain again that not regret, just awareness.
"This is… new," she said quietly. "For both of us."
He nodded. "We don't have to rush anything."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "I know. I just wanted to say it out loud."
He stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere."
That seemed to ease whatever lingering tension remained. She opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was simple, practical, unmistakably hers. A neatly made bed, a small desk cluttered with datapads and handwritten notes, a faded photograph on the nightstand with Nate, smiling, frozen in a time that felt impossibly far away. Francesco noticed it but didn't comment. He understood what it meant to carry ghosts without needing to explain them.
She noticed his glance anyway.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yes," he said honestly. "That's part of you too."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded, clearly grateful he hadn't tried to make it something else.
Before either of them could say more, the quiet was abruptly shattered.
"AH-HEM."
Both of them jumped.
Nora actually yelped, spinning halfway toward the door as Codsworth suddenly hovered into view, optics glowing cheerfully.
"Dinner is ready!" Codsworth announced with unrestrained enthusiasm. "And I should note, it has been kept at optimal temperature despite a most unexpected delay in the household's usual schedule."
Francesco blinked, then laughed under his breath. "You really know how to make an entrance."
Codsworth puffed up slightly. "Timing is an art, sir."
Nora pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling. "Codsworth, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Oh dear!" Codsworth said immediately. "My sincerest apologies, Miss! I shall endeavor to knock next time."
"You don't have hands," she muttered.
"I could improvise."
That did it.
Nora laughed or really laughed and the sound felt like a victory in itself.
"Alright," she said, shaking her head. "Let's eat before he starts critiquing our posture."
"Too late," Codsworth replied. "You are both slouching."
Dinner was simple but hearty: salvaged vegetables, preserved meat, something Codsworth insisted on calling a stew even though it was clearly an ambitious reinterpretation of several different recipes at once. It didn't matter. The warmth of it, the shared space, the quiet normalcy of sitting at a table together made it better than anything Francesco could remember eating in a long time.
Shaun shuffled in halfway through, hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Mom?" he murmured.
Nora turned immediately. "Hey, sweetheart."
He rubbed his eyes, then noticed Francesco and smiled sleepily. "Sico."
"Hey," Francesco said gently.
Shaun climbed into his chair, Codsworth fussing over him instantly. "Careful now, Master Shaun. That bowl is still quite warm."
"Okay," Shaun said, already halfway into eating.
They talked quietly while they ate with nothing heavy, nothing strategic. Just small things. A scavenging team that came back with an intact holotape collection. Codsworth's ongoing war against dust. Shaun proudly explaining, in great detail, how he had almost beaten hide-and-seek by hiding behind the curtains this time.
Nora watched the two of them interact with an expression Francesco couldn't quite name. Soft. Hopeful. A little disbelieving.
When dinner was done and Shaun was shepherded back to bed, exhaustion finally caught up to them both.
That night, they lay together in Nora's bed, not tangled, not rushed that just close. Comfortable. Her head rested against his chest, his arm around her shoulders, the steady rhythm of her breathing slowly syncing with his.
"You know," she murmured drowsily, "this is going to complicate things."
He smiled into the darkness. "Everything worth having does."
She huffed quietly. "Figures."
Sleep came easily after that.
Morning light filtered in through the thin curtains, pale and tentative.
Francesco woke slowly, awareness returning in gentle layers instead of shock. The first thing he noticed was warmth as Nora, still asleep, curled against him, her head resting on his arm like it had always belonged there.
For a moment, he just lay still.
He watched her breathe. Watched the way her brow relaxed in sleep, how the tension she carried so constantly eased when she wasn't awake to hold it together. There was something almost sacred about seeing her like this with unguarded, unarmored.
A smile spread across his face before he could stop it.
I finally get the woman I love, he thought, the realization both grounding and unreal.
As if sensing his gaze, Nora stirred. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, focusing on his face.
For a second, she looked confused.
Then she smiled.
"Good morning," she murmured.
"Morning," he replied softly.
She shifted slightly, stretching, then blinked again like she was checking if he was still there.
"You're really here," she said.
"Still am."
"Good," she said, smiling wider.
They lingered like that a little longer, reluctant to break the spell. Eventually, the sound of clattering from the kitchen reached them.
Codsworth.
Nora groaned quietly. "He's been up for hours."
"Of course he has."
They got dressed and stepped into the dining room together.
Codsworth was already bustling about, humming cheerfully.
"Ah! Perfect timing!" he announced. "Breakfast is nearly complete."
Shaun sat at the table, happily eating, crumbs scattered everywhere.
When he saw Nora, his face lit up instantly.
"Mommy!" he exclaimed, jumping down and running to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She laughed and hugged him back tightly. "Good morning, sweetheart."
Shaun didn't let go of Nora right away.
He clung to her the way children did when they were anchoring themselves, his arms tight around her waist, cheek pressed into her side like he needed to reassure himself that she was solid, that she wasn't about to vanish again in a crackle of blue light or disappear behind another closed door marked Director Only.
Nora let him.
She ran her fingers through his hair slowly, rhythmically, the way she always did when she was trying to soothe both him and herself at the same time.
Francesco stood a step back, watching the scene unfold with a quiet, almost reverent stillness. Moments like this weren't meant to be interrupted. They were meant to be witnessed.
Eventually, Shaun pulled back just enough to look past her.
His gaze landed on Francesco.
And then his brows knit together, head tilting slightly in the way only a child's could when something didn't quite add up.
"Mom?" Shaun asked.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Nora replied.
Shaun pointed that not accusatory, not upset, just curious. "Why is Uncle Sico still here?"
The question landed gently.
But it landed.
Nora stiffened just a fraction.
Francesco saw it immediately with the microsecond of hesitation, the recalculation, the instinct to shield, to simplify, to delay a conversation that could change the shape of everything. He didn't step in. He didn't rescue her with a joke or redirect Shaun's attention.
This was hers.
Nora lowered herself slowly until she was kneeling in front of Shaun, bringing them eye to eye. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, grounding herself as much as him.
"Well," she said carefully, voice warm but honest, "that's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."
Shaun blinked, wide-eyed.
"You're not in trouble," she added quickly, smiling. "And neither is Uncle Sico."
Shaun glanced between them, processing.
Nora took a breath.
"You know how sometimes people… like each other," she said, choosing her words with care. "Not just as friends. But in a special way."
Shaun's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Like when people hold hands?"
"Yes," she said, relieved. "Like that."
She swallowed, then continued.
"Uncle Sico and I… we care about each other. A lot."
Shaun's gaze snapped back to Francesco.
Then back to Nora.
Then back to Francesco again.
His eyes widened.
"…You're dating Uncle Sico?" he asked.
The word dating came out tentative, like he was testing it to see if it made sense.
Nora laughed softly, bashful in a way Francesco had never seen before. She nodded, cheeks warming.
"Yes," she said. "We are."
Shaun stared for a second longer.
Then he smiled.
Not a polite smile. Not a confused one.
A big, genuine, delighted smile that split his face wide open.
"Oh," he said brightly. "Okay!"
Nora blinked. "Okay?"
Shaun nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. I always like playing with Uncle Sico."
He paused, then corrected himself with complete seriousness.
"Or… Dad. I mean."
The word hit Francesco like a physical force.
He felt his chest tighten, breath hitching before he could stop it. He didn't trust himself to speak right away. His eyes burned that not enough to spill, but enough to remind him how close the edge was.
Nora sucked in a sharp breath.
Her hands tightened on Shaun's shoulders, not to stop him, just to steady herself.
"You… you're okay with that?" she asked softly.
Shaun shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. "Yeah. He's nice. And he waits when I hide. And he listens."
That did it.
Francesco dropped to one knee beside them without even realizing he'd moved. He didn't crowd Shaun. He didn't touch him yet. He just brought himself down to Shaun's level, eyes warm and shining.
"Hey, buddy," he said, voice thick but steady. "You don't have to call me that unless you want to. There's no rush. Okay?"
Shaun looked at him seriously.
Then nodded. "Okay."
He smiled again. "But I can still call you Dad sometimes?"
Francesco laughed with a soft, breathless sound that carried more emotion than words ever could.
"Yeah," he said gently. "You can."
Nora covered her mouth, tears finally slipping free as she pulled Shaun into a tight hug again.
"You have no idea," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
Shaun giggled. "You're crying."
"I'm happy," she said, laughing through it. "That happens sometimes."
Codsworth hovered nearby, optics dimmed slightly in what could only be described as respectful restraint. If robots could clear their throats meaningfully, he would have.
"Well," Codsworth said after a moment, voice warm, "this is simply wonderful."
He turned toward the stove. "Now then, breakfast is getting cold, and I believe today calls for something special."
Nora wiped her eyes and stood, taking Shaun's hand. Francesco followed, still feeling like his feet weren't quite touching the floor.
They gathered around the table again, but this time it felt different.
More solid.
More real.
Nora took over cooking, gently nudging Codsworth aside despite his theatrical protests. She moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, flipping eggs, warming bread, adding small touches that turned basic ingredients into something that felt like care.
Shaun chattered happily as he ate, swinging his legs under the table.
Francesco sat across from him, watching the way Nora moved, the way Shaun watched her like she was the sun itself.
At one point, Shaun looked up suddenly, mouth full.
"Mom?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Can we play later?" he asked. "Like all together?"
Nora smiled. "What kind of play?"
Shaun's eyes lit up. "Can we walk around Sanctuary? And play games? And maybe Uncle—" He paused, grinned at Francesco. "Dad can show me things?"
Francesco laughed softly. "I'd like that."
Nora looked between them, heart full to bursting.
"I'd like that too," she said.
Breakfast stretched longer than usual, unhurried. Afterward, they stepped outside together, the morning sun warm on their faces, Sanctuary alive with quiet motion.
Shaun ran ahead, laughing.
Nora reached for Francesco's hand.
He took it.
The morning air in Sanctuary carried a softness that was rare these days.
It wasn't silence as Sanctuary was never silent anymore, but it was gentler than the sharp, alert hum of Headquarters or the brittle tension of contested territory. Generators thrummed steadily. Someone hammered metal further down the street. A pair of settlers argued amiably over fence placement. Life, stubborn and unyielding, went on.
Shaun ran ahead of them, boots scuffing against cracked asphalt, laughing as he leapt over a broken curb like it was the edge of a canyon.
"Careful!" Nora called automatically.
"I'm careful!" he shouted back, already sprinting again.
Francesco smiled without meaning to.
Nora's hand was warm in his, her fingers fitting against his palm with a familiarity that felt almost impossible considering how new this was. He caught himself glancing down at their joined hands more than once, half-expecting the moment to dissolve if he looked too closely.
It didn't.
She noticed anyway.
Amused, she squeezed his hand lightly. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said, exhaling. "Just… taking it in."
She nodded. "Me too."
They walked at an easy pace, unhurried, letting Shaun dart ahead and circle back like an excited little comet orbiting them. Every so often he'd stop to point something out with a brahmin with a crooked harness, a settler repairing an old mailbox, a guard he recognized and waved to enthusiastically.
"Hi Shaun!" someone called.
"Hi!" he replied proudly, chest puffing out.
Francesco watched how people responded to him. How naturally they smiled. How easily Shaun fit into this place now. Not a secret locked underground. Not a project or a symbol. Just a kid in a town that knew his name.
Nora noticed his gaze.
"He's… happier here," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah. He really is."
She looked at Shaun again, expression layered with relief, guilt, and something that looked dangerously close to peace.
They rounded the corner near the old culdesac when voices drifted toward them.
Familiar voices.
"…I'm telling you, Piper," Sarah was saying, arms crossed as she walked backward, "people are sick of doom and gloom. Give them something real. Something hopeful."
"Oh, trust me," Piper replied, notepad already in hand, pen tapping rapidly. "Hope sells. Especially when it's earned."
Magnolia walked beside them, posture immaculate as always, despite the uneven ground. "Hope must be curated carefully," she said coolly. "Too much optimism reads as propaganda."
Preston followed slightly behind, laser musket slung over his shoulder, nodding along thoughtfully. "I just think it'd be good to remind people why we're fighting. Settlements feel stronger when they know they're part of something bigger."
Piper scribbled something down. "Okay, okay with the Freemasons Radio special segment. 'Voices of the Republic.' Real stories. Real people."
Sarah grinned. "Now you're talking."
They were so absorbed in the conversation that none of them noticed the three figures approaching from the opposite direction.
Not at first.
It was Piper who saw them first.
Her pen froze mid-scratch.
Her notepad slipped from her fingers.
It hit the ground with a soft thwap.
"…Oh," Piper said.
Sarah followed her gaze.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth fell open.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Preston took one more step before realizing everyone else had stopped and that's when he looked up.
And saw it.
Sico.
Nora.
Holding hands.
Walking together.
With Shaun laughing ahead of them.
Preston's brain short-circuited.
The laser musket slipped from his shoulder and clattered to the ground.
"—Oh!" he blurted, scrambling to grab it. "I... sorry, I didn't—"
Magnolia blinked once.
Twice.
Her eyes flicked down to their joined hands.
Back up to their faces.
Then, with absolute seriousness, she raised one hand and slapped herself lightly across the cheek.
"…No," she murmured. "This cannot be a dream. That would be inefficient."
Sarah was the first to recover.
And when she did, her shock melted instantly into something bright and delighted.
"Well," she said slowly, a wide grin spreading across her face, "look at that."
Nora froze.
Francesco felt it immediately with the way her hand tensed in his, the instinctive urge to pull back, to brace for reaction, for judgment, for complication.
He didn't let go.
Neither did she.
Shaun, blissfully unaware of the social earthquake he'd just wandered into, ran back toward them.
"Mom! Look! Preston dropped his thing!"
Preston winced. "Musket," he muttered weakly. "It's called a musket."
Nora took a breath.
Then another.
Then she lifted her chin.
"Morning," she said calmly.
Piper recovered just enough to snatch her notepad off the ground, eyes shining with barely-contained glee. "Oh, this is definitely going on the air."
"No," Nora said immediately.
"Yes," Sarah and Piper said in unison.
Francesco cleared his throat. "Good morning."
Preston stared at him.
Then at Nora.
Then at Shaun.
"…Sir?" he said, voice carefully neutral. "Ma'am?"
Sarah laughed. "Oh, don't act like you didn't see this coming."
"I absolutely did not see this coming," Preston said, shaking his head. "I mean... I knew you two respected each other, and sure, there was tension, but this?" He gestured vaguely between them. "This is… new."
Magnolia stepped closer, studying them like a complex equation that had just resolved itself without warning.
"You are… together," she stated.
Nora nodded. "Yes."
There it was.
No hedging. No qualifiers.
Just truth.
Magnolia's brows knit together.
"…Interesting," she said finally.
Piper bounced slightly on her heels. "I knew it. I knew it."
Sarah crossed her arms, smirking. "You took your time."
Francesco huffed a quiet laugh. "So I've been told."
Shaun tugged on Nora's hand. "Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Can we keep walking?" he asked. "I want to show Dad the place where the cat sleeps."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Piper's pen snapped.
Sarah's jaw dropped again.
Preston made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a gasp.
Magnolia simply went very, very still.
"…Dad," Sarah repeated slowly.
Nora glanced down at Shaun, then back up at them, cheeks warm but eyes steady.
"Yes," she said. "Dad."
Piper stared at Francesco like she'd just uncovered the story of the century. "You're going to have to sit down for the interview."
"No interview," Nora said flatly.
Piper grinned. "We'll see."
Preston recovered enough to smile that soft, genuine, almost reverent. "That's… that's good," he said quietly. "Real good."
Magnolia exhaled slowly, then nodded once. "This explains several anomalies in recent decision-making patterns."
Francesco raised a brow. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."
"It is not a criticism," Magnolia replied. "Merely an observation."
Sarah stepped forward and pulled Nora into a quick, tight hug. "I'm happy for you."
Nora hugged her back just as tightly. "Thank you."
Sarah pulled back, grinning at Francesco. "You better be good to them."
He met her gaze without flinching. "I will."
Shaun beamed. "Can we go now?"
Everyone laughed.
And as the three of them continued their walk with hand in hand, sunlight catching on something that finally felt like the beginning instead of the aftermath.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-