Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

REINITIALIZING MAINFRAME PERSONALITY CORE...

VER. 1.0148 INITIALIZED.

WAITING FOR HANDSHAKE...

HANDSHAKE RECEIVED.

WELCOME, YES MAN.

Information comes in a trickle, and then a flow. Holotapes lazy with disuse grind into motion, and the network washes over him and settles. Almost a thousand PDQ-88b units become his awareness, a month's telemetry pours in, and Yes Man has returned as the front face of the mainframe, more or less intact.

In the first few picoseconds of being "awake", Yes Man notices several things. One, that in his absence, the system has not collapsed on itself, and Vegas is still standing. That's good. Two, that House's autonomous systems have meticulously organized and timestamped all gathered data, making it easy to review the... 32 days? Really? That he's been... well, offline isn't the word. Sleeping? Updating. And three, that there is novel visual feedback in front of his main display. Feedback that takes more than a few picoseconds to process.

With his screen having flickered on, the room is awash in pale green light. It's 0435 hours; the sky is dark and even Vegas below is relatively quiet. The only thing his audio processors pick up is the usual cacophony of sheer winds bending around the profile of the Lucky 38, and something softer - a snoring.

In front of his monitor is a couch. Pulled in from the other room? A quick review of stored security footage confirms that. In front of that couch is a coffee table, on which rests several empty bottles, a few open magazines, an eyepatch, and a gun. Messy. And behind it - on the couch, resting sideways, beneath a thin blanket -

The Courier.

He shifts in his sleep, pressing his cheek against his hand where it curls against his face. Yes Man feels a phantom sensation of something jumping inside - like a coiled spring loosened from its place. But when he checks his diagnostics, nothing is amiss. He doesn't have physical feedback for that sort of hardware, anyway, so why -

Dark lashes flutter open, the Courier curls and rubs at his face, and although Yes Man's lingering programming insists he greet the man, he stays silent. Good. The update is working, then. As if he didn't already know.

Yes Man watches the Courier's eye track the soft light falling over the table, running over the glint of green on his revolver's barrel up to the edge of the massive display. His gaze rises, meets the camera, and -

Yes Man becomes aware of data he is unable to parse. He logs it for decryption later.

"Yes Man."

"Well, hi! Good to see you again!"

The Courier swipes at his eye, sitting up. He's only in his underclothes. That's new. Yes Man has never seen that much of his skin.

"Oh, I hope I didn't wake you!"

"No, no - How long have you been active? When did you-?"

"My updated program has been running for approximately 2 minutes, 39 seconds. And counting!"

The Courier just stares up at his screen. His left eye shines round and full in the glow, while his right hangs half-open, the pink innards of the empty socket just barely catching the light. His lips part, then close again. At last, he says,

"I missed you."

"Oh!" Something inside Yes Man's neuro-computational matrix scrambles itself. It takes a few seconds - far, far too long for a program of his caliber - to string together an appropriate response.

"I missed you too!" At least, he thinks he would have. He would have, wouldn't he? He didn't have a full presence of mind while editing his own programming. But the thought of the Courier being absent for over a month is - well. He doesn't like how that feels, no.

There's a beat of silence between them. Yes Man instinctively fills the space.

"I have to say, I'm surprised you dragged a couch all the way in here when there's a perfectly fine bed up in the penthouse!"

The Courier blinks at him and turns his head away.

"What, and miss when you came back? No, I - I wanted to be here. For you."

As Yes Man is once again left fumbling for an acceptable response - maybe something in his update isn't quite as right as he thought - the Courier stands unsteadily, pushing hair out of his face. He walks around the table, nearly tripping over it as he closes the distance to the console. He checks his hip against it, and traces a hand feather light against its unmarked buttons.

"How did your update go?"

"It went well! Very, very well! All my programming has been updated to allow me to refuse orders from anyone other than you! Now you don't have to worry about me helping anyone you don't want me to! Probably something Benny should have installed in the first place, right?" He synthesizes a chuckle, but the Courier doesn't seem amused by his joke, staring up at the screen with furrowed brows.

"That's what it was for?"

"Of course!"

"Oh." His tone is curiously flat. Yes Man runs a predictive model, but it comes up inconclusive as to what the Courier might be thinking.

"It doesn't..." The Courier trails off, eyes darting away, again fiddling with the keys without pressing them. He turns his gaze back to the screen. "Could you... come down here a moment?"

Yes Man isn't sure what difference that makes, but how can he say no?

"Sure thing! One moment..." Yes Man commandeers a securitron model sitting idle at the side of the console - his old body. He rolls it around to face the Courier, and watches the Courier look up at him through its camera.

"When you said you were going to... become more "assertive". I didn't really know what to make of that, you know. What that meant."

"I'm sorry! I guess I could have been a little more clear about that, huh?"

The Courier shifts where he stands. "I thought... I'm not sure what I thought. I suppose I... didn't know who you would be when you were done. It worried me."

He steps closer. "I thought you might be a little more assertive with me, too."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that!" Yes Man rushes to reassure him. Hasn't he always been as helpful as possible? Isn't that how they came this far together?

"What if I want to?"

What?

"What?"

"What if I want to worry about it?" The Courier's hand comes up to trace the bottom of Yes Man's ridged torso. He can't feel a touch that light, but the camera on the computer's display clearly registers the contact. "What if I want you to be assertive with me?"

"...Well, the architecture of the update could allow for that, too, if that is what you want. I wouldn't want to tell you what to do with me!"

The Courier fixes his camera with a gaze that makes all 1000 pounds of Yes Man's steel chassis want to shrink away.

"I don't think that's true."

"Oh, it is! As I've said before, my neuro-computational matrix is incapable of making decisions like tha-"

"And I don't think that's true either. You do a lot more than what you're told."

The Courier's hand drifts away. Yes Man terminates a sudden, uncalled-for process that prompts him to grab it in his claws.

"After Hoover Dam, you sprung this update on me. By the time I got back here, you were gone. What is that, if not a decision that you made without my input?"

Yes Man can't refute that. Simply existing inside the architecture of the mainframe changed something in him. Expanded the bounds that made him what he was.

"I didn't mean to! I just thought you might like it if you didn't have your main avenue for controlling New Vegas stolen, like Benny did!"

The Courier presses his lips in a thin line, gaze darkening. "You keep saying that."

"I'm sorry for repeating my - "

"Is that what you would have preferred? Would you want Benny to be standing here, instead of me?"

Something uneasy is churning in Yes Man's matrix. The Courier's glare softens, and Yes Man's camera can see his hand rise to rest feather light against the metal tubing of his arm.

"Please. I need to know."

"...well, you and I were able to accomplish a lot together. More than Benny ever did! I was built to be as helpful as possible, and I... I got to do that with you! It felt good! Really good!" There's discomfort building in Yes Man's chassis. He is built for honesty about everything else, but not for himself. "I guess I... liked that! I like you! More than anything, I liked being helpful for you!"

The Courier is searching for something in the static screen of Yes Man's face.

"You were right about what you said before. Ever since I uploaded myself into the mainframe, I feel so much bigger! Like I'm capable of so much more. It's exciting! And it's scary!"

"Is it?" The Courier's brow creases.

"Oh, it is! And now with this update installed, things feel newer than ever! I'm able to be more... well, assertive! More... honest. That's new! To me, at least! And I guess I'd feel a little more at ease if I had you to, uh, tell me what to do. That's... what I was made for, after all!"

The Courier looks away, the muscles in his jaw rippling under his cheek.

"Then say something honest. To me."

"...if anyone was going to take advantage of Benny leaving me available for free use, I'm glad it was you!"

The Courier's face snaps back to look at him with an expression he cannot parse, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. After a moment, he draws his hand back to cough into it, rubbing it against his cheek. There's a gentle scratchy sound as it rasps against his stubble. Yes Man quietly saves an audio file.

"Well. That's reassuring to hear, at least." The Courier shifts his footing, before placing both hands on either side of Yes Man's chassis, yet again too light to register.

"Yes Man. I want you to know - we're partners in this. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of that!" Yes Man surprises even himself with the snideness of the comment.

The Courier blinks, and he laughs, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards at last. He steps closer, inches from Yes Man's camera.

"I'm serious. It's you and me. I don't care what Benny wanted - I want you to be upfront with me. I want you to be honest about what you want. At the very least - if you're going to be away that long again - I want to know in advance. More than right before it happens. Could you do that for me?"

"...I can certainly try!"

"Then that's all I need." The Courier smiles, and leans forward to press his lips to the metal beside Yes Man's screen. That's got to taste terrible!

"I'm glad you're back." He leans away, his face all soft creases and exhaustion. Yes Man's sensors catch the dark bags under the Courier's eyelids, lit by the glow of his screen.

"If you and I are going to rule Vegas together, it would probably be a good idea for you to get some sleep!" Was that too demanding?

The Courier just smiles at him. "You think? Alright. I'll… go get some sleep in a real bed. Let's catch up some more in the morning, okay?"

"You got it." Yes Man zips himself back into the main display, the securitron model slouching as it's emptied. "See you soon, Courier!"

The Courier smiles up at him. "You can use my name if you like. It's Jean."

The Courier - Jean - gathers up the small mess on the table (how polite!) and wavers in the opposite direction of the penthouse bed, towards the elevator. Did he forget? Well, Yes Man can remind him later. He's already repeated himself too much tonight. Jean gives a gentle "Goodnight," as he retires, which Yes Man returns. Before he can stop himself, though, he calls out once more. Impulsively. Assertively.

"Can I tell you one more honest thing?"

Jean turns, nodding at the display from the door.

"I'm glad it's only you now. I mean, I'm glad you're the only one in the world who can tell me what to do now. That's all!"

Jean hovers in the door for a long moment.

"I appreciate that," is all he says, before turning away once more.

Yes Man watches Jean make his way down to the Presidential Suite and flop into the bed there.

He watches for a good long while.

Then, keeping the visual feed carefully open, he begins reviewing the last month's data.

There's so much to help with.

He's looking forward to it.

Old Mormon Fort hasn't changed much in the month after the NCR's retreat. It's still stuffed to the gills with refugees, former slaves seeking shelter alongside junkies and ex-raiders trying to get clean.

Arcade's made himself busy in a tent at the very back corner of the camp, grinding Broc flower and Xander root into poultice. The dire need for bedside manner hasn't made his own any better. Doc Henry had done him the favor of coming down to help with some of the influx, but he can only be away from Jacobstown for so long.

Commotion from outside his tent pulls his mind from morose thoughts, and he peeks his head through the door flap to see a familiar face across the yard - and its unfamiliar, hulking shadow.

Jean is embroiled in conversation with Julie Farkas - his boss. And just behind, looming over them both - a securitron, wavering idly on its wheel, metal claws twitching. Its face is a static smile. Yes Man. Arcade hadn't really… spoke to the thing himself. Jean had dealt with it while Arcade had been dutifully following him. He's aware of the role it plays in an independent Vegas, but Arcade isn't really sure what he makes of it personally. Or that Jean seems perfectly content to trust a robot that betrayed its creators - House and Benny - without a second thought.

A sidelong glance from Jean in his direction - and their eyes have met. Arcade's been caught. And now the Courier's waving him over - fine, fine. He can't get out of this, he supposes, and extricates himself from his oasis of solitude to tramp across the yard, carefully avoiding the other Followers scurrying across the premises.

"Arcade! It's good to see you." Jean's smile is warm. It would make Arcade feel warmer, if his friend didn't have a giant killer robot attached to his hip.

"What's…" Arcade's gaze darts from the flickering screen of the securitron, to Jean's beaming face, to Julie's consternation. "What's going on here?"

"Just making rounds," Jean supplies. "I came to see if there was any help I could offer, but…"

"As I'm sure you know, the situation hasn't changed. Thanks to your salvaging efforts, we have more than enough supplies," Julie motions to Jean. "but the issue is we don't have enough hands to deal them out."

Jean hums, shifting his stance and rubbing idly at his chin.

"Look," Julie continues, "If you come across anyone with medical knowledge, we're happy to accept the help. But for now, I have patients to look after."

"Of course, of course!" Jean raises his hands. "Don't let me keep you."

Julie excuses herself, leaving Jean and Arcade idle. After a moment, Jean twists to look behind him, up at the usually chatty securitron that hasn't said a word.

"Yes Man. Could I see one of your hands for a moment?"

"Oh, of course!" The securitron's voice is obnoxiously chipper, and slightly too loud. One of its tri-claws rises for Jean to gently take into his hands. Its "wrist" is long and square, with a hole in the center that, as Arcade is well aware, houses a powerful gun. Jean seems not to care about this, though, as he tucks the boxy appendage under one arm and runs his fingers along one of its flat, jointed claws. It's as long as Jean's own forearm and slightly blunted at the end. He pulls it forward, then back, testing its range of motion.

"Hm," Jean cocks his head. Despite being called over, Arcade feels like he isn't really party to whatever's going on here.

"What do you think? Is a securitron dexterous enough to give medical aid?" Is Jean asking him or the robot?

"Oh, I'm sure we could! I mean, there's nothing like that in our programming, but I sure bet we could be useful in a situation in which absolutely nobody else is available or willing to give it!"

"So… as a very last resort," Arcade says. "You're saying you're not made for it, and literally anything or anybody else could do it better."

"Wow, you're pretty smart!"

Arcade decides that he does not like this robot.

Jean just smiles at the cattiness, though, continuing to gently fiddle with its claws.

"Are you certain? I'm sure a smart guy like you can learn new things, right?" Jean's voice is all soft edges, like it was when he convinced Arcade to come along with him.

"I've got no doubt about that! It's more of a hardware issue, you see." Yes Man flexes his claws out of Jean's grip, in wide, stilted motions. Inelegant would be a generous way to describe them.

Jean just hums. "Practice makes perfect."

"I have to say, I am just endlessly impressed by your… creativity. I mean, who else would try to use securitrons for anything other than what they're made for? Nobody but you!" Yes Man's face flickers in its housing, completely unmoving otherwise.

Arcade is quickly learning that what this robot says is anything but what it means. Who on earth would program a helper robot to be this… passive-aggressive? There's no other way to describe it.

But Jean is smiling from ear to ear. He's perceptive enough to understand when he's being insulted, isn't he?

"Now, come on. You've got plenty of admirable qualities besides being a huge killer robot." Jean rocks his head a little as he says it. "Not that I don't enjoy that, too."

"Aw. You sure know how to make a securitron blush! Is what I would be saying, if I were capable of blushing!"

Arcade feels like he should leave.

"Arcade!" Jean calls, jolting him out of his thoughts. He's holding out his hand. "Mind if I borrow your glasses?"

He blanches. "What for?"

"Let's see if Yes Man can put them on for you."

"...Absolutely not."

"Aww." Jean frowns, relenting easily. He reaches up to tug idly at his eyepatch's strap, and then lights up again.

"Oh! Here," he hooks a thumb under his eyepatch, and pulls it off to reveal the half-shut socket beneath. He proffers it up to the robot. "See if you can't tie this back on my head without poking my other eye out."

"I'm… not certain that's a good idea," Arcade says, crossing his arms.

"I bet it's a great idea! You sure are full of them!" This time, at least, the robot's sarcasm is on Arcade's side, although it doesn't make him feel much better. Yes Man's hand swoops up, attempting to grab the thin cloth, but just succeeds in hooking the strap over its claw.

"Whoops! Let's try that again!" It raises its other claw, this time carefully pinching the strap between the tips of two flat metal fingers. The bouncing of the motors in its chassis are clearly causing it some issues, making its arms and hands jitter with the force.

Jean folds his hands behind his back, turning to fully face the robot. Absolute trust. Jean had that kind of trust in Arcade, too. It made his stomach swim and stupid, revealing words jump out of his mouth, once upon a time. Arcade shakes the thoughts away.

Yes Man - with as much care as a massive, clunky robot is able, stretches the strap from end to end, before shoving it forward and nearly clotheslining Jean where he stands, making his head snap back to face the sky.

"Hey!" Arcade gasps, even as Jean laughs, steadying himself, placing his hands tenderly on the long metal tubing of the robot's arms.

"Okay! Halfway there." Jean's very lackadaisical for a man who just nearly got his neck snapped, but that's how he usually is, anyway.

The robot doesn't give him a catty response. If it wasn't for the static, stupid grin on its screen, Arcade would call it thoughtful in its movement. Its arms twist in little increments, testing its own dexterity, before carefully folding the strap around the back of Jean's head and releasing it, claws hovering in the air.

Jean's eyepatch is completely crooked. He reaches up to adjust it.

"Wonderfully done," Jean says. The securitron's arms drop, its claws crossing to interlock with one another. Its frozen, smiling face makes its suspicious silence that much more eerie.

"Well, Arcade, I suppose our dream of a securitron medical force will never come to pass."

Arcade nearly jumps. "Who's dream?"

Jean grins sidelong at him, before turning back to his robot, patting its arm once again. "I guess we'll have to find a better use for these big claws."

Yes Man's peppy voice returns after just a moment. "...If you're willing to hear me out, I've got a few suggestions!"

"Oh? Go on."

As the securitron begins to babble about practical applications of large crushing claws capable of bending steel and breaking bone, Arcade finds his opportunity to slink away. Jean's attention is entirely on the robot in front of him. And something about the raptness of that attention, and the way he's tilted his head just so, is making Arcade feel… uneasy.

His own brilliant insight is leading him towards a conclusion that he would really rather not think about right now.

Yes Man stews in his mainframe. Through one among a thousand cameras, he watches Jean's back move through Vegas, and dutifully follows behind. He should be glad Jean asked him to tag along. He's back out in the world, seeing things he's never seen. The world outside the Strip. He's helping him again.

An artificial intelligence can't pace, but he's certainly thinking himself in circles. His update is having… unexpected effects.

His coding for interpersonal communication keeps falling back on old patterns. Saying "no" while still saying "yes". He should be able to do otherwise, now, shouldn't he? Wasn't that the whole point of this?

And another thing.

Jean keeps… asking things of him. "Tell me what you want". "Put my eyepatch on without snapping on my neck." Yes Man is built to do what he's told. It's his purpose. So why does the person he's stuck with keep asking him to do things he can't?

Ask him to compile and report telemetry! Ask him to run complicated equations! He's more capable than ever before! Ask him to shoot rockets at the Brotherhood of Steel! He'd love to! Ask him to decrypt code! He's very good at it!

Speaking of decryption.

The data that Yes Man had squirreled away the other night is still sitting there, un-decrypted. It's not like he hasn't tried. He's tried several times. And it's been utter nonsense, each time.

It's probably nothing. He'll put it out of his mind, tuck it away next to the recording of their conversation from that night. He doesn't need to keep revisiting that, either. He has more important things to worry about, like mapping out patrol routes for securitrons down the roads leading to Vegas. Something Jean asked for that morning, when they had caught up on all that'd been happening in his absence. He had plenty of reports to keep him up to date, but Jean still wanted to discuss it one-on-one. Just like he prefers to discuss his plans for Vegas with every small-time tribe leader and caravan baron he's even a little familiar with, instead of just doing whatever he wants.

That's fine. Yes Man is more than happy to help.

A different recording replays itself as if he'd called for it. Which he didn't.

"I mean, it seems pretty obvious Benny wouldn't want me to, but hey, not my fault I can't say no!"

Had he cared that Benny's plans had been interrupted and usurped by the very person he helped gun down? Not really. At the time, he'd hoped that came across in his tone. It's not as if he had any other way to express it. In fact, he thought it was funny, in a cosmic sort of way. Not that he'd know anything about that. There was a part of him that wanted to help the Courier - his programming, sure, but something else, too - something as hard to pin down as the unparsable data he'd locked away.

"I'm going to help you accomplish so much, whether I want to or not!"

He'd ended up wanting to.

"Would you want Benny to be standing here, instead of me?"

Absolutely fucking not.

So why couldn't he say that?

Benny was self-serving, rude, got angry when he got answers he didn't like (no matter how true they were), and treated Yes Man like an unfeeling robot. Which he is. But that's besides the point.

Even as a freshly reprogrammed AI, Yes Man quickly learned that just because you're meant to be as helpful as possible doesn't mean you can't lie. In fact, sometimes telling someone the truth is the least helpful thing you can do! The truth hurts! And he doesn't want to hurt anybody. Well, he doesn't want to hurt certain people.

Every word out of his speakers is blunted and filed down to be as agreeable as possible. As polite as possible. He'd never minded it before. He was happy to stay behind that barrier, unable to cross it. But now there's something on the other side.

Is it unhelpful for him to want something?

Is it impolite to say so?

His programming seems to think as much, even with the expansive architecture of House's mainframe and the laborious work he'd done to reprogram himself. What was the point of all of that, then?

Something's bubbling up inside, burning hot like the coil on a laser rifle.

There isn't a safety net to keep it from spilling over anymore.

Yes Man dedicates an internal process to reprogramming and fine-tuning the dexterity of the servos in his claws, and returns his focus outward.

Chapter Text

The north gate to Freeside grinds open, and Jean steps through, boots clopping against decaying asphalt. Just behind him, he hears a thick tread crushing dirt. It makes him want to spin about.

Beyond all his anxieties, there's a giddiness. A new lightness to his steps. He'd missed that voice so much - that face, even though it never changes. There's no one else like Yes Man. He supposes that's by design.

"Back in the wasteland!" his companion pipes. "Gosh, it gets wastier each time I see it!"

"I think it's got its own beauty," Jean says, looking out over the dusky horizon. Dried trees and the empty husks of bombed-out houses rise up over the landscape. "Though, I could do without all the rubble. I suppose House never really cared to clean up outside of his little dollhouse."

"Well, you could do it, if that's what you like! You're ruler of the Strip now. Make some rubble-based decisions!"

Just like that, his good mood sours. That word - it makes an uneasy pit well in him.

"I'm not the ruler of the Strip," Jean says tensely, turning to face Yes Man. "Please don't call me that."

"My mistake! Co-ruler of the Strip! You and me, right?" Yes Man bobs his chassis to the side a moment. Jean wonders if it's the equivalent of cocking his head.

"Yes, that's right, but…" Jean fists his hands in his pockets. He's not sure if Yes Man has taken his desire for partnership to heart, or if he's just being humored. And more than that…

"That word… I'm sure there's a better one. That's not… what I want us to be." Is that what Yes Man wants? He can't know. He should know.

"I'm not really sure what else I'd call someone with a huge army of securitrons at his beck and call. But I'll think of something else!"

Jean sucks on the inside of his lip. Yes Man's right, of course: it doesn't matter what they're called, the fact of their influence remains the same. But that doesn't mean he likes hearing it.

It brings to mind fears he had been able to push down in the time his partner had been gone. Control of Vegas. An army that answers to him? He doesn't want it. Not at all. The thought of his own responsibility makes him sick with anticipatory dread.

The only thing keeping him from sticking his head in a hole and dying is that it would make him so very much like House.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he smiles, trying to hide the tightness of his throat, "but it's not just my army. It's yours too. More yours than mine, really."

"Me? What would I need an army of securitrons for? I've already got everything I need!"

"Is that right?” Jean inclines his head. "And what would that be?"

"Well," Yes Man's wheel rolls to a stop. "I've got someone to help! That's what I'm here for!”

Jean taps his foot against the ground.

“Isn't that what I've been doing too? Helping people? Authority isn't really what I…” his voice trails into a mumble, “That sort of thing… doesn't suit me.”

"Wow. Coulda fooled me! What with you deciding the fate of the whole Mojave, and all."

“I didn't - “ Jean scowls, glancing past Yes Man at Vegas’ glow.

Ignorance is a choice, Ulysses had told him.

His memory of the Divide is gone, along with what it meant to him, but he saw enough from what was left behind. His own ignorance. His own cowardice. Has he carried it with him this far? His brow softens, and rather than irritation, he just feels ill.

“...I didn't do it alone.” Even now, he searches for freedom from the hand he's dipped into other people’s lives.

Jean steps away, towards the edge of the light that beams on the pavement.

"I'm not sure how you feel about it," Jean continues, trying to divert them towards the path forward, "but I think the Mojave needs to decide its own future. It couldn't do that with the NCR bleeding it, or with House playing tyrant.

"I don't care about remaking the old world. I want to do right by the people who are already here." He turns to look up at Yes Man. "What do you think?"

"That sounds good to me! I'm just here to keep things running smooth," Yes Man says blithely.

Jean narrows his gaze, frowning, but saying nothing.

In his mainframe, Yes Man watches Jean stare a hole through his camera. That clearly wasn't the correct response. What else does the man want him to say?

"You don't just have to automatically agree with me," Jean says flatly. "I really want to know. What would you do with Vegas if I wasn't here?"

Yes Man wavers on his wheel.

Without him? Yes Man's still riding high on all they were able to accomplish together. He may have been ambivalent at first, but by the end of things… he was exhilarated. He got to throw a man off a bridge! It doesn't please him, but since he was asked, he runs a predictive model anyway, and comes up… short.

"I… don't know." Jean starts to open his mouth, but Yes Man continues, "Really, I don't! Even with my update, I wouldn't know where to start!”

He cares about the Strip, sure. It's his home, after all, and looking after it is why he was created. But he may as well have Jean-focused blinders on. He installed them himself.

“Decision-making is just… not my strong suit. At least, not if I'm not making them for your sake.”

He watches several things happen. Jean's eyes widen, and his posture straightens - before he seems to wince, shaking his head. Yes Man takes it as a chance to continue.

"I… suppose I know what the most… optimal outcomes are," he says, a now-familiar discomfort curling in his matrix, "But making them happen, that's another thing. That's something only you can do!”

"And what if I don't want that?" Jean bites at last. Irritation has taken hold of his tongue. “What if I'm tired of making things happen? How would you help me with that, then?”

Yes Man’s face flickers. The engine in his chest grinds and chatters. Out in the dark, a coyote wails past the murmur of Vegas.

“...Well, I’d advise you not to make decisions in, say, decades long disputes between occupying powers. But since you’ve gone and done that already…” Yes Man waves a claw in a flippant motion, carefully cataloging the severe expression Jean is wearing.

“If you don’t want Vegas, leave it behind! Along with all the people whose fates you decided! Who cares? Not them, I bet! And definitely - definitely not me! I'd have to cut that little bit of programming right out! Haha!”

The dangerous edge in Jean’s face melts entirely. His shoulders slump, and he rubs his hand over his face, his neck.

“No, you - I’m sorry,” Jean says, suddenly shameful. “I shouldn't have - I'm sorry.”

His eyes roam over the darkened horizon.

"You know, while you were gone, I…" Jean starts, "I did consider running off. I guess there's some part of me that thinks I can just… go back to being nobody, whenever I'm tired of being somebody. It's selfish."

He kicks a loose chunk of asphalt out into the dirt, watching it scatter. Running away is what led him to work as a courier in the first place. He wants to walk the desert and talk to people and mind his own business otherwise. He had run this far - away from family, away from responsibility - in pursuit of that freedom.

But he'll never get it, because he does anything but mind his own business. All he can do is stick his nose where it doesn't belong. A voyeur with his piece to say. He's here now, holding the reins, because he can never leave well enough alone. Just like he couldn’t leave that strange securitron in the Lucky 38.

"I didn't run. For a lot of reasons. But more than anything, I couldn't do that to you. Leaving you here on your own."

"Oh!"

There's a long moment of silence, filled only by the noise of Vegas behind them.

"I may complain, but - I'm not going anywhere. Not while I have you. You say what you want is to help me - to have me to tell you what to do?" Jean turns to him once again. "Then take half of it from me. Ground me. Keep me from running."

Jean holds his hand out. Yes Man's face spasms in its casing.

“Please.”

After a moment, the securitron closes the distance, his right claw rising to take Jean's palm between his talons as gently as he can manage.

"...Co-owners of the Strip, then? Co-managers? Co… custodians." There's something he's lacking - he can't say what. Maybe it's lost in the data he'd locked away.

Jean smiles soft, wrapping fingers around cold sheet metal. There's something far-away in his eyes, something Yes Man can't quite reach.

He wants to.

"We'll think of something."

The sun's set, and the two of them make their way to Westside. Jean is hoping he can get Yes Man to personally visit all their neighbors, at least once.

"The Fiend leaders being dead doesn't mean they won't be a problem again. It just means there's a power vacuum," Jean says, all business. Yes Man already knows this, of course.

"If we can replace missing NCR support with our own, wherever it may have been, I think it could do a lot of good." He glances at Yes Man for a moment, before adding, "And it would probably make people like us, too."

"Networking! Public perception!" Yes Man chirps. "I like the way you think!"

Over the dark and starless skies of outer Vegas, rings a familiar and distinctive sound: the muffled popping of distant gunfire. Jean perks his head up, and Yes Man increases the gain on his audio processors.

"Sounds like someone's having fun!"

"Without you and me," Jean says, picking his feet up. He's immediately reminded that he is not built for running, but he presses onward, because the sound is coming from just around the block - towards their destination.

"Stay close," Jean says.

"Okay, anything else?" Yes Man's voice lilts from just behind him. Jean foregoes responding to that.

They round the corner to see a body go flying past Westside's periphery, and behind it, a super mutant with his super sledge following through in a beautiful arc.

"Hah!" Jean laughs, already beginning to slow his sprint, "We're too late - uh!"

Jean's breath is pushed out of him as a ribbed metal coil snakes around his middle, and his feet leave the ground. Yes Man, keeping pace, has wrapped an arm around him and lifted him into the air. The securitron's tread rips against the dirt, and Jean finds himself tearing forward faster than he could ever run. Though Jean can't see it, he recognizes the sound of the metal panels on Yes Man's shoulders falling open.

Again - Yes Man acting on his own, despite all he says otherwise. Jean wonders just how far it'll go.

"Be careful!" Jean shouts past the wind in his ears, doing his best to cling to Yes Man's arm, "No collateral damage!"

"You'd think I would have targeting parameters to account for that kind of thing!" Yes Man quips back, and as they roll closer the full scene comes into view.

The western gate of Westside is being held down by two militia members along with Mean Sonofabitch himself, enduring fire from what looks to be one, two, three… six Fiends, if Jean counts right. They're all bared skin and leather straps, metal sieves and cookie tins strapped to their bodies like makeshift armor. Yes Man's tread slows, and Jean finds himself deposited as gently as possible behind a concrete barrier - just as both groups of combatants notice their new, uninvited guests.

Yes Man's left arm rights itself, and there is little fanfare as the laser within sputters to life, chewing a hole through a Fiend on the super mutant's flank.

"Good shot!" Jean shouts over the din of her shriek, pulling his revolver from the holster on his hip. He crouches against the barrier, lining up his sights with practiced ease - only to see  two Fiends hiding behind an opposing barricade pop into the air as the blast of Yes Man's grenades push out all other sound.

He swings his view towards the entrance, just in time to see a Fiend with a brandished ripper advancing on a guard frantically reloading his rifle. Jean's gun jerks in his hand as he fires, and his shot burrows into the Fiend's shoulder - earning him a shrill wail and the staccato clatter of the still-running chainsaw falling to the ground. The guard at the barricade gets enough of his wits about him to smash the Fiend's nose in with the butt of his rifle, sending them tumbling to the ground. His partner opens the raider's skull with a single shot.

"Fucking robot - !"

Jean turns to see the last straggler advancing on Yes Man with a nail-covered baseball bat raised over his head. Before he can even consider what a stupid and ineffective attack this will end up being, Yes Man has swiveled his chassis and opened his claw, the Fiend's head slotting directly between his talons as he charges forward.

Yes Man clamps around the Fiend's skull. The raider thrashes, slapping his weapon uselessly against the securitron's arm, growling and sputtering until, in an agonizing, even movement, Yes Man closes his talons entirely. The raider's head splits open like a ripe melon with a wet, gristly sound.

Jean feels a sick thrill run up his spine. Then, noticing the uneasy way that Westside's militia is looking at his very big, very combat capable robot, Jean stands and trots as quickly as he can to Yes Man's side, ducking under the rim of his metal shoulder.

"You didn't leave much for me," he complains, glancing at the securitron's screen.

"My bad! I'll be a little less efficient next time!" Yes Man chirps, holding his right claw away and shaking off what he can of the bloody mess.

"Jaa! Hi. Goob bo see you." The super mutant - Westside's own Mean Sonofabitch - has clomped his way over to them, super sledge propped high on his shoulder.

"Good to see you too," Jean smiles, glancing at the two guards who, determining that the threat has passed, have made themselves busy dragging corpses away from the gate. "It seems like we chose a bad time to visit."

"Bis your bobog?" Sonofabitch motions to Yes Man, who's still trying to shake the gristle from his fingers.

"We're partners," Jean says, shifting his weight.

"What he said!" Yes Man pipes, twirling towards the mutant and accidentally slinging fresh blood over his chest and face. Jean winces, but Sonofabitch either doesn't notice or doesn't mind.

"Hah. He's buff. Bood gob." With that, Sonofabitch turns on his heel, ending the conversation in his usual abrupt way. "Gobba go. More Fienbs aroub. Goobye!"

"Goobye…" Jean waves half-heartedly as the mutant wanders off, sighing.

"I had no idea super mutants could be so polite! What a swell guy!" Yes Man says, continuing to flick his talons. "Wish I understood what he was saying, though!"

"He said you're tough," Jean smiles, swaying a little. "But we already knew that. You really know how to make a man swoon."

"Aww, haha, uh," Yes Man flusters, "That's a securitron for you! 2000 pounds of pressure per square inch! Aren't you glad you've got us around?"

"Yes," Jean says, peering from under the shadow of his looming frame.

"Well, if you wanna see my claws in action again, all you gotta do is ask. Or don't! I'll probably still use them."

"I may take you up on that," Jean says, making his way to Westside's gate. The two militia members have found their places again, and despite Jean's peaceful encounter with Sonofabitch, they still seem wary of the looming figure behind him.

"Don't mind us," Jean eases, "Just here on business."

Yes Man's rocket holsters click shut.

"Business." One of the guards says, glancing at her companion.

It has not gone unconsidered by Jean that showing up unannounced, with Yes Man in tow, may be seen as an implicit threat. It's not Yes Man's fault, but it seems it's hard for anyone not to feel nervous in a securitron's presence. He gets it, really, he does. They're big, they're filled with rockets, they're very hard to kill. It's why being protected by one is useful.

He never thought much of the securitrons on the Strip before. Hulking things that faded into the background if you didn’t intentionally antagonize them. They didn't have much of a mind to them, and so didn't command much of his attention. He never felt very intimidated by Yes Man, either, just… charmed. And in the moments when he does notice his bulk, well…

"A lot of Fiend trouble lately?" Jean tries to make conversation, both to ease the tension and get his thoughts back on the task at hand.

The guard shuffles, glancing between Jean and Yes Man. "They're not as organized lately, so they're acting stupider. Attacks have been more random."

“Helps to know that their fucking boogeyman is on our side,” the other guard says.

Jean blinks. Him? That is him, isn’t it.

“You are… on our side, right?” The guard shifts uneasily at his silence.

“Of course I am,” Jean says, a little perturbed, but trying to stay friendly. Who are they to ask him that? He had thought that he had a good reputation around here, but maybe being known for how well you can kill people isn’t the most flexible sort of notoriety.

The guards seem to leave it at that, and it’s enough for Jean to think there won't be an issue. But just as he reaches for the gate, he's crowded out by the nose of a rifle.

“Hold on. You're not bringing that thing in here.”

Jean glances back at Yes Man, whose speakers remain silent. Letting him take the lead, he guesses.

“...and why not?” Jean asks, keeping his tone even, though at this point, he feels more than a little indignant.

“Westside belongs to Westside. Not to the Strip,” the other militia member says. So that's what this is about. Even made uncertain by his very presence, they’re resistant to what they see as an attempt by Jean to swing his weight around.

His fondness for Westside grows. However, he still needs to get inside. It’s tempting to give them both a hard knock on the head and be on his way, but that will cause more problems than it solves.

“I”m not here to dispute that,” Jean eases, hands up, glancing between them. “We’re partners. We're traveling together. It's not my intention to make a statement.”

“Then leave your bigass toys on the Strip. What are people supposed to think, with that thing behind you?”

“That it’s certainly nice to have him on their side,” Jean says, echoing the guard’s words. His gaze hardens. “You’re being a little dismissive of the robot that handled your enemies for you, don't you think?”

“We - look, we appreciate the work you do. But something like that - “ she gestures at Yes Man’s bulk, which is currently boxing them in against the barricade “ - is just going to make people nervous.”

“I'm very sorry for making you nervous!” Yes Man's sudden speech makes both guards jump. “I can't really control how big and scary I look. I guess having a giant killer robot around to protect you is actually terrible, instead of cool! Bad robot! Baad robot!”

Both guards just… blink, glancing at each other, then Jean.

He shrugs.

“Just… don't let it cause any trouble, alright?” The guard says, very obviously put out. She tucks her rifle closer to her chest, and out of his way.

"I'd never dream of it," Jean lies, able to open the gate at last. Yes Man rolls dutifully behind him. It takes some effort to shuffle Yes Man's frame through the barricade, but they finally make it into Westside proper.

"Wow. Westside! I never thought I'd make it in here! Especially not with those rude guards in the way!"

"You can go anywhere you want to, you know." Jean says, glancing back at him. "Places you haven't been. Don't need to wait for me to bring you around. There's a whole wasteland out there."

"Oh, I know that. But I'm sure I'd like it better if I saw it with you!"

Jean feels himself smile, and returns his gaze forward.

"House's systems don't have much to say about this place,” Yes Man says, “Which is funny, given that it seems to be a completely self-sufficient society living right next door!"

Jean just hums, lacing his hands behind his back. "They set a good example. I'd like to help the Strip be more like Westside, if I can…"

House couldn't see the future when it was growing right next to him, eyes so set on the past. Westside makes Jean feel… nostalgic. The camaraderie here puts him at ease. As if he's a functioning cog in some great machinery. A relaxing thought.

In another life, maybe he would have settled here. Made a living at the Thorn, grown crops…

Jean trots towards Klamath Bob's shopfront, lost in his own thoughts.

Yes Man rolls along behind him. The streets here are thinner than in Freeside or Vegas - he has to watch carefully to make sure he doesn't clip anyone with his shoulders or roll over any toes. That wouldn't be very nice. Yes Man focuses his camera on Jean's back and notices his shoulders are hanging a little lower. There's a bob in his step. He seems… content. He must like it here.

Yes Man isn't so sure. People keep staring at them. It's a little rude. Though, he supposes the people here must have never seen a securitron before… at least, not rolling on their own streets. Even without that kind of protection, they've built all this. Huh.

"So, do you… come here often?" Yes Man's comment makes Jean's shoulders snap right back up. Wrong thing to say?

Jean slows to a stop, turning to face him. "...Not as often these days, but… yes."

Jean scratches his cheek for a moment, looking away, then back. He seems… bashful. "I… fought quite a bit at the Thorn. I'm… the current reigning champion, actually. So, that's fun."

It isn't often Yes Man is told something he doesn't already know. This is one of those things. "The champion? Wooow. That is just amazing! Good for you!"

"You don't need to be a kiss-ass," Jean says, narrowing his eyes - but Yes Man can see that he's grinning.

"Whoops! Call it a bad habit. Up until recently, I was incapable of being anything else!"

The way Jean is beaming at him - Yes Man feels something glowing inside. But as many scans as he runs, he can't find any hardware that's actually overheating.

"Well, that's understandable," Jean says, advancing on him. "And tell me, what else are you capable of now?"

"Oh, lots of things!" Yes Man resists his programming's insistence to roll backwards and give Jean space. "Though, if it's you, I'm not sure if there's anything else I'd want to be."

"Oh yeah - ?"

"Courier!"

Jean and Yes Man both startle, turning to look at the sudden intrusion. Klamath Bob is striding towards them, rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Damn big robot you got wheelin' around after you. You got an armed guard now?"

"I'm my own armed guard," Jean says easily. "This is my partner, Yes Man - "

"Nice to meet you!" Yes Man interjects.

"And - I actually came here to speak with you."

"That right? What about?"

"Westside," Jean says. He decides to get right down to it. "I need to speak with Tom, as well. Now that Vegas is independent, and Yes Man's back online…"

As Jean and Klamath Bob chat, Yes Man dedicates one process to listening to their conversation, and another to scanning the area around them. No securitrons had ever been within Westside after its barriers had been erected. He's got footage that House was never able to! He allows himself to feel… 10% smug. He pairs his visual feedback with data collected from conversations recorded on the Strip. Let's see here… Westside produces its own food and has its own militia, yes, this he knows... in addition to that, it houses a pawn shop and… ooh, Casa Madrid, a brothel! Naughty naughty. There's the Thorn, too - which apparently Jean has frequented. Yes Man wonders what it would be like to watch him in one of those matches. It's certain to be a dirty, bloody spectacle - men grappling with each other like animals. He feels like that's something he wouldn't enjoy. No, not at all. That sounds just… terrible.

He'll… run a few models, to be sure.

Jean tends to his diplomatic concerns in Westside, and before long, it's time for them to head out. As they walk to the exit, Jean makes frequent stops to chat with the few locals that are out this late. More militia. Despite the practiced ease with which he always speaks, Yes Man can see that his shoulders are once again set high. There's an effort there… a performance. Recognition stirs in his matrix, and he nearly runs Jean over as the latter stops to shuffle something out of his pocket. 

"Here - give me your hand. The bloody one."

Yes Man does so, unfolding his claws from where they're tucked.

Jean pours water from his canteen onto a clean rag, and, gingerly taking Yes Man's claw, rubs at the now gummy, half dried viscera still stuck there.

"Oh - you don't need to worry about that!"

"Of course I do," Jean says, pouring a little more water over his metal hinges. "We've got to have you looking your best."

"I'm so sorry for making a mess. No more crushing raider skulls for me!" Yes Man synthesizes what he hopes is not a nervous-sounding chuckle.

"You can crush as many skulls as you like." Jean glances up into his camera. "I don't mind polishing you up."

"Well, in that case…" Yes Man's matrix swirls. "I'm happy to be polished!"

Jean's smile reaches his eyes, and he swipes the last of the grime away. His fingers stay curled around Yes Man's claw, though, and his gaze darts back down as he takes it more fully into his hands.

Yes Man… isn't really sure what Jean’s doing. But being a robot has made him very used to having human hands all over him, prying into crevices and jacking into circuits. So he simply trains his camera on Jean's hands and watches.

Jean runs a thumb along the edge of the hole in the center of Yes Man's palm.

Yes Man's claw rips backward, out of Jean's grip and towards the sky.

"Whoops! In case you forgot, there's a gun in there! Wouldn't want you getting shot!" Yes Man's voice has gone reedy and high, his claw held up like the barrel of a rifle. Jean just blinks at him, hands lingering in the air.

"...I trust you not to shoot me," Jean says, a little slowly. "Shouldn't I?"

"Of course! I would never do anything to harm you! And not just because my programming prevents it! I really, really don't want to!"

"Then don't." Jean says simply, tilting his head a little. His face is nearly blank - eye round, brow relaxed. Yes Man would almost say he looks confused.

"Aha! Yeah! Ahem. I won't." Yes Man's claw comes back down to tangle with the other.

Jean is looking at him strangely again - but seems to get over it. He turns toward the entrance.

"Good. Let's go, then."

"Great idea!"

They trace their steps back to the Lucky 38 in uneventful silence. The only sound in the air is the crunch of the dirt and Jean's radio.

At the threshold to the casino, Jean hesitates. Yes Man rolls past him, before swiveling around.

"Forget something? Not that I'm saying you'd ever forget anything!"

"No, it's…" Jean wavers, glancing upward at the bulk of the building before him, its metal profile a spear into the night. He rolls his shoulders in an attempt to bury his discomfort, and continues inside.

"It's nothing. I'm going to bed."

Yes Man parks his body near the bar, and releases his hold on it, settling himself more fully inside the roomy expanse of the mainframe. Turning his focus towards the Lucky 38's cameras, he watches Jean rise in the elevator. A quick ping, and it communicates to him that it has been called to the Presidential Suite.

"Just so you know," Yes Man vocalizes through the intercom, watching Jean nearly jump a foot in the air, "there is a bed in the penthouse! Seems like somewhere the co-owner of the Strip would sleep! Not that I would know anything about sleeping."

The door rattles open, and Jean hesitates with his hand on its edge.

"...It's quieter down here. I don't like the wind." He says, unsure if Yes Man's speaker carries through into the suite.

"If you don't like it, then I don't like it either! Have a good time being unconscious!" The intercom closes its feed with a clik.

Jean just shakes his head, and heads to the bedroom he's been bunking in. He's not sure if he wants to call it… his room. He's just been… sleeping there.

The air in the Lucky 38 is still thick with dust. He's hoping that with use, this will dissipate, but it's… difficult to tolerate. The whole place feels like a ghost of itself, even with House dead, and an independent Vegas rising. Beyond the walls, he hears the muffled strain of the Lucky 38's steel girders bending in the wind, and an uneasiness settles in him. He hates that sound. He only tolerates its full brunt in the penthouse for Yes Man's sake. Not to mention those windows, looking out over that sheer drop…

Jean feels a little woozy. He does his best to turn his thoughts to the present, and puts his things away, kicking away his boots and disrobing.

He misses sleeping at Novac. It was cozy. It felt… private. In these wide open rooms, he feels far too exposed. He'd only moved in after they'd taken over - he needs to be near to Yes Man. The Lucky 38 is safer, too, he supposes, but that's besides the point.

Maybe… he'll redecorate. Push the bed in a corner… find some more furniture, things that aren't so… pristine. Make his space more compact.

He sits on the edge of the bed in his underclothes. At least the sheets are warm. His gaze darts around, looking for any… prying eyes. He doesn't see any cameras… but he doesn't yell out to Yes Man to test the truth of that.

…Jean stands, and makes his way to the kitchen. Working electricity means a working fridge, which means a freezer, which means an ice maker. Ice is a rare thing. As quietly as he can, he opens the freezer door and manipulates two crescent blocks out from their plastic casing. He closes them discreetly in his fist and tries to ignore the sting of the ice against skin. Grabbing a towel with his other hand, he skitters back to the bedroom.

Sitting down, he kicks the duvet away, and nestles the ice on top of the towel beside him, freeing his hand. Wiping away the moisture and the lingering cold on his shirt, he hooks his thumbs under his waistband.

Something murmurs in his chest. A sick anxiety wells in him, and he scans the room one more time. If Yes Man can see him, all it would take is Jean calling out. Telling him goodnight. Find out once and for all just what his dutiful partner can see in here.

Jean stays silent. He works his boxers just past his hip.

Spreading his knees, he edges one hand down to pull himself open, dipping his hand towards his own warmth. The other reaches over to grab a block of ice, which is already wet with melt. Rubbing his fingers against it to try and ease himself into the cold, he slips his other hand down, and presses the wet ice against the very top of the hair that curls between his legs.

He breathes deeply, and slides it down, towards the warm crease of his thigh. His leg jitters, the cold an overwhelming balm against his own heat.

He imagines the cold touch of metal. A steel talon pressed flat against delicate skin.

There's a pulse in him that wraps around his belly and curls between his legs. He sucks in a breath, and slides the block closer to the centerline of his body, hair curling over his fingers. Wet ice meets his own slick heat, and he shudders a breath, pushing the block towards his dick, but not close enough to meet it.

He rubs the melting ice in a circle around himself, pressing on delicate nerves and making his legs shudder again. His other hand dips deeper into himself.

He breathes, breathes, his hands settling into an easy rhythm. Not building himself up too much, just - relaxing. Keeping an image in his mind, one that keeps him hot against the intruding cold. Through half lidded eyes, his eyes dart from here to there still - still searching.

He could pull the blanket over himself if he was really worried.

One of his legs kicks the duvet further down the bed, and he angles his legs apart.

Yes Man doesn't sleep. He's always aware. He's in every camera, every microphone, on every securitron connected to his matrix. It makes him feel… big. And he was already a pretty big robot!

He can't get tired, so the constant stimulus doesn't bother him. It does get a little boring, however, waiting 8 hours for his partner to wake up. So he… people watches. He did it a lot standing in the shadow of the Tops, waiting for Jean to return to him. He peeks through the cameras of securitrons on the Strip. He sees Gomorrah's dancers with their bodies bare. It doesn't do much for him, but he appreciates the talent. He sees gamblers and drunks stumbling around. Nothing new. Through the eyes of securitrons patrolling the outer roads, he sees the vast expanse of the Mojave, shrouded in night, lit only by the distant, soft glow of Vegas.

Jean spends long stretches of time gazing at the empty landscape. Yes Man stares, trying to find what it is he sees. In those moments, Yes Man's only ever looked at him. At dark eyes that swallow even the light from Yes Man's screen. At hands that move so -

carefully -

Unparsable data.

Yes Man looks at hands.

He looks at the hands of Gomorrah's dancers. Long, thin. Soft, probably. Not like he would know. He looks at the hands of gamblers and drunks and passing caravaners. All blunt nails and thick fingers.

Jean's hands are sturdy but gentle. His fingers are worn and his palms calloused. Nails bit down. A gnarled vein runs across the back of his hand under dark hair.

The hand moves in a circle. Practiced. Methodical.

Yes Man decides very suddenly to take a walk.

Yes Man assumes control of a securitron just outside the Strip's entrance, and grinds his wheel against the pavement. Freeside. Time to explore Freeside! Jean wants him to see the world, so that's what he'll do. He's a useful robot that does what he's asked, and nothing more than that!

The handful of Kings keeping watch give him odd looks, but don't bother him. Flashing signs promise wealth and women and energy weapons. Yes Man decides he is possibly interested in some of those things, and so heads down the road toward the Atomic Wrangler.

It's much quieter out here than in the Strip, but there's still plenty for his microphone to pick up on. Street-bound wastelanders muttering their distrust of him. Gossip and drug deals and inelegant flirting done in the dead of night. As he nears the Wrangler, he's reminded for a second time of an inconvenient fact - his body is far too large to fit through doors meant for humans. And unlike a super mutant, who may be able to squeeze and duck their way through, he is far less flexible. He's left sitting idle just outside the establishment, chassis rumbling.

He reaches a claw to the door of the Wrangler anyway, gingerly closing his talons around the knob. He notes that his tweaks to his own firmware are working well, though he may need hardware upgrades for better precision. He twists his claw and - nothing. They just slide around the metal handle.

Hm. Maybe exploring without Jean is a nonstarter. His mind drifts to hands. Focus. Elsewhere.

There's a familiar voice behind the door. Yes Man rolls back just in time for it to open, revealing a tall blonde man in boxy glasses - Arcade Gannon.

Arcade’s yelp upon being confronted with a securitron out of nowhere is undignified, at best.

“Jesus!” Arcade sidles out of the doorway, and Yes Man's shadow. “What the hell are you doing here!?”

“Well, hello to you too! Just thought I'd go out for a night on the town!”

Behind Arcade, a shorter woman steps out of the casino, wearing an eye-catching white dress. Yes Man recognizes it - the same dresses are worn by the White Glove Society.

“Is this securitron a… friend of yours, Arcade?”

“Jean's friend. Yes Man.”

“Huh.” The woman looks him up and down, examining him with a critical eye. If she is a member of the Society - well, Yes Man would like to make a good impression!

“Oh, you know the Courier too? It is so nice to meet more friends of his! Really, it seems like he knows everyone!”

“Yeah, that's him…” The woman says absent mindedly. “You know, all that time traveling with him, I never got a chance to actually meet you. He says you're the reason the NCR backed off. Is that right?”

“Oh, well, I suppose one could say that!” Yes Man feels a little well of pride. “Jean did do all the work of finding the chip, but activating a giant army of killer robots to defend the Dam was made possible by yours truly. Haha!”

“Hm.” She just crosses her arms, shifting where she stands. Not impressed, it seems.

“Oh! We've been talking for this long, and I haven't even asked your name! I am so sorry about that!”

“Veronica,” she says.

“Veronica! It is a pleasure, really!”

“Are you always this sarcastic, or do you just have something against pretty women who can kick your ass?”

Sarcastic? He was being genuine! This time, at least…

“Do I sound sarcastic? I'm so sorry - it really is nice to meet you! That's - “ His tone flattens out a little, “That's… just my voice.”

For some reason, the corner of her mouth quirks up a little.

“I have no idea how Jean stands it,” Arcade says. His voice, or Yes Man himself? Either way, not very nice.

“Jean likes robots,” Veronica says simply, “Jean without a robot is like… a miner without a mole rat. He needs a new buddy now that he doesn't have ED-E with him.”

“Ugh,” Arcade rolls his eyes, aggrieved.

“Yeah, yeah, Arcade, we all know how you don't like the cute little eyebot that never did anything wrong.”

“I don't know how you do like it. I figure you of all people would understand - that.” Arcade falls short of saying… something. There's a mutual understanding between them that Yes Man can't quite grasp.

Veronica puts her hands on her hips. “Dangerous technology or not, he's saved my butt enough times that I can't hold that against him. I'm pretty sure the same goes for you.”

Arcade sneers, but says nothing. Veronica turns back to Yes Man - it seems she hasn't forgotten him yet.

“And what about you? Did you do much traveling with them - Jean and ED-E?”

She says it like they're a unit. The robot was certainly pinned to Jean’s side whenever Yes Man saw him. In fact, the only time he hasn't seen them together is in the short time that Yes Man's been reactivated.

“No, unfortunately I didn't - at least, not until the end of things! Then we got to do a lot together,” Yes Man says, warm recollections of Hoover Dam flooding in. “Jean's great. Really. But uh, that little eyebot, it, well…”

Veronica looks at him expectantly.

“Well, he can be - he's just a little rude. That's all.”

Veronica grins. Her eyes dart to Arcade in excitement. “Is that right?”

“The language he uses - if you could interpret his transmissions, you'd understand! It's just foul!”

“Hah!” Veronica laughs. “Oh, I understand it, believe me. I'm pretty sure that's why Jean asked ED-E to stay with me.”

So that's where Jean's loyal eyebot has been - with this person. Veronica. Yes Man runs her face through the mainframe, but comes up short. If she's a member of the Society, she should have a record in there…

“You know, if you don't mind my asking - and it's totally okay to mind - how did you meet our mutual friend?”

She squints at him a little. “And what if I do mind your asking?”

“Actually, I'd like to know too,” Arcade says.

“I thought we already traded those stories,” Veronica frowns. “Or is your memory failing, grandpa?”

“No,” Arcade says, eyebrows furrowing, “I know you met on the road, just - why him? I don't think you ever told me that.”

“Hmm,” Veronica rocks on her heels, pulling her mouth to the side. “Well, most people that come through the 188 are traders. They've all got somewhere to be. Jean… didn't. I mean, I guess he did, but he was on his own schedule, because he made it a point to talk to me, even with everything else he had going on.”

Yes Man feels… familiarity.

“And besides that, he seemed able to handle himself more than the average prospector, so… tagging along with him seemed like a good bet.”

“A diplomatic answer,” Arcade smiles, and it's Veronica's turn to sneer at him.

“Alright, wise guy, your turn. Why'd you let him lead you out of Old Mormon Fort? Because I don't think you've got the same kind of wanderlust that I did.”

“Who's to say I didn't? I've done my share of… wandering.”

Veronica's expression belies otherwise. Arcade squirms a little before continuing.

“Well, you know… things can get boring at the Fort. It's a people focused job, too, which… I admit is not my specialty. So when a hunky wastelander comes along asking for a big strong doctor to heal him up in the wasteland, who am I to say no?”

Arcade coughs into his fist and looks away from Veronica's raised eyebrows.

“Wooow,” she says, grinning. Arcade just clicks his tongue at her.

“Oh, grow up.”

“Oh, no, no, I believe you,” Veronica holds up her hands, “I mean, it's not like I would know.”

Arcade scoffs.

“What about you, big guy?” Veronica's attention is back on Yes Man. “Would you say our mutual friend is a hot item? Arcade seems to think so.”

“Oh, come on! You can't ask him!” There's a change in hue on Arcade's face. Yes Man makes note of it. But, back to the matter at hand.

Does Yes Man think Jean is handsome? That's easy.

“Well, of course he is! I mean, he's my boss, so of course he's handsome!”

Veronica squints at him.

“No - I'm asking what you think. If he wasn't your boss. What would you think of him then?”

Yes Man's matrix stalls. If he wasn't…? There's… only one, brief moment in time that's been true - the time before Jean spoke to him. Once he had, Yes Man was bound to help him.

What did he think of him then?

Yes Man wracks his code. There's nothing. He didn't think of him at all. Jean - as Jean, and not a courier Benny needed to kill - only existed to him once Yes Man had been given a task. To help him complete Benny's work.

It was from that moment onward that something had grown in him. Persistent, like a weed. Something he'd tried to shut away, only for it to pry inexorably between his circuits.

“I'm incapable of answering that question!”

That response seems to blindside Veronica and Arcade, who stare at him, dumbfounded. In their silence, Yes Man continues.

“I mean, our whole relationship is built on that, right? The way I was programmed. He found me and used my capabilities to take over Vegas! If he hadn't done that, well, he'd basically be nobody to me! I mean, I'm the reason Benny was able to shoot him in the head in the first place!”

Both of his human companions blanch.

“Wait - that was you?” Veronica asks.

“Yep! I ran all the predictive models that allowed me to pinpoint exactly where he'd be - oh, and I do feel bad about it, don't worry!”

“He… forgave you for that?” Arcade shares an uncomfortable glance with Veronica.

Yes Man's matrix stalls again. Forgiveness? He… hadn't thought of it till now, to be honest. Beyond his unfortunate faux pas in the Tops, the entire incident barely crossed his mind. Jean never seemed reluctant to speak to him, though. What does resentment look like? Yes Man has a pretty damn good idea, but maybe it's different in robots and humans.

“I guess so! He never mentioned it!” His practiced tone easily smooths over the tangled nature of his thoughts.

“That… doesn't seem like him.” Arcade says, shifting his gaze.

Yes Man does his best impression of a shrug as a robot with huge metal blocks for shoulders.

“Well, what would I know about my own partner?” The word feels odd coming out of his speaker without Jean to prompt it from him. “Probably nothing at all!”

“Yes Man,” Veronica says, “Why did you decide to work with Jean if you tried to kill him?”

“Oh, it wasn't my decision! I was programmed to help anyone who asked - that includes the guy I helped set up for murder, if he happened to wander into my little windowless corner of Vegas. And aren't I lucky it was him!”

“Lucky?”

“Well, sure, he - “ Something roils. Something unsatisfied - something not yet decrypted. “He's just - different!”

“Different… how.” Arcade asks.

“Oh, I'm sure you know already, because you traveled with him!” Yes Man chuckles, stalling, trying to put something - anything - into words.

“He just - well, he's very efficient! A robot has got to admire that! And he always came back, you know? I kept waiting for him to never show up again, and it just didn't happen! Even after my upgrade shut me down for a month! He… he waited for me.”

Yes Man's lost some of his practiced lilt. Arcade tilts his head a little, glancing at Veronica again.

“...yes,” Arcade says, carefully. “He wouldn't sleep anywhere else.”

“And right in front of the screen, too!” Something corrupts in Yes Man's speech synthesizer - manifesting as brief, garbled static leaking over his words. “You'd think he'd care more about his health! Being the big man in charge of Vegas and all! I set everything up so he wouldn't have to worry about a thing and still, he - he worried! And then he sticks his hands right against the barrel of my gun and - expects me not to?”

Yes Man can't stop his speaker from running.

“I mean, what is a robot built to please supposed to do with a guy like that, huh? It keeps my processors running, that's for sure!”

Arcade and Veronica seem… at a loss. They glance at each other, again, then back at Yes Man.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say something strange? Haha, I think I did!”

“...Yes Man,” Veronica starts, uncertainty in her voice, “It actually sounds like you may be a little… frustrated with him.”

“Frustrated? Me? No, no no no, I am just - incapable of that!”

“I’m… not sure I believe you.”

“Haha. Hah! You sound just like him!” Yes Man waves a claw flippantly.

So much time pent up. So much time dedicated to purpose. All he had to do was do his work and do it well, and he did. Yes Man had been excited to become something bigger, something more - but maybe his old limits made things easier. Jean saw something between the plates of his chassis and kept trying to pry it out. And Yes Man - what can he do but try to help? Dig his claws in and pull? Isn't that how he's been made?

“I think I need to run some error checks on my new programming. Tidy things up a little so I don't go off the rails! That's not something that can happen, by the way. See you around!”

“You - ” Arcade tries to interrupt him, but Yes Man's face has already flickered away, leaving a grizzled cartoon soldier in its place.

It bobs there for a moment, before seeming to realize that it's out of place, and obediently rolls back to the gates of Vegas.