The first time I met Trudy Truong – vault dweller, war survivor, and best damn shot I ever saw – was like getting smacked upside the head. If my life were a comic, which is something I think about a lot, there'd have been stars floating around me and a big, shiny spotlight zeroed right in on her face. I don't remember much of what I said or did, but I'm sure I came off like a slack-jawed idiot. With who she turned out to be, can you blame me?

Now the first time I met her wasn't technically the first time I saw her. No, that was late some night before, when I was halfway drunk after a shitty – er, crummy – day of having no job prospects and the threat of Gunners breathing down my neck, two problems I was sure would come to a head pretty quick. I was squirreled away in the back room of the Third Rail, sprawled on the one couch that let me see some of went on outside but still hid me from view. Like most days, I had too many things on my mind that I was trying not to think about, so I didn't take much notice of who I could see milling around the main part of the bar.

That being said, it was kind of hard not to notice some person in a bunch of armour and a bright blue vault suit, especially when she had a no kidding dog with her.

She waltzed by my door with a swagger like she owned the place, the dog sniffing along behind her, and I didn't hear any shouts or complaints about it. Bringing an animal past Ham must have taken some real cajoling, and at the time it seemed weird enough to almost get me off my couch. I later figured everyone else must have caught wind of them coming, what with Travis's coverage and her talks with the Mayer, so I was probably one of the only people in Goodneighbor to be surprised.

She didn't pause by my door, but the dog did; he stopped and actually made eye contact with me, staring me down with a cocked head like he was evaluating me. I almost thought he'd come in, but his head whipped around at some signal I didn't notice and he trotted off. And all right, maybe I was a bit further down the bottle than I'd thought, because I only caught the one glimpse of them. I might've blacked out for a bit, because all of a sudden I opened my eyes and Magnolia was back singing and someone had thought to set some water and a sweet roll on the little table next to me. I didn't give it much thought after that.

That is, until the girl in the vault suit waltzed right into my room.

Like I thought would happen soon, Barnes and Winlock had shown up to try and intimidate me out of the area. I was so keyed up and concentrated on not showing it that I barely glanced over when I saw her come in and lean against the doorframe, watching the attempted showdown between me and the Gunners. I did notice that she didn't immediately move out of the way when it was over and they made to leave, but instead flashed them a dazzling smile and cocked her head.

"Awh, you're not leaving now are you?" She crooned. "You two seem like so much fun!"

Barnes had some snarky remark for her as she stepped out of the way, and she watched them go before turning to me. The armour, gear, and helmet from the other day were gone, and the dog didn't seem to be around, but the blue suit gave her away immediately. She wore sunglasses and had her black hair done up all fancy, and the way she walked towards me still wearing that cocky little grin made me know she wanted something. And man, was I ever sick of being harassed by people.

"Look , lady," I started, "If you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk."

"Then maybe we can." She smiled wider, and that's when it happened.

She took off her sunglasses and looked at me, and the world stopped. You know that feeling you get when you first meet someone, and you're struck by how familiar they look, even though you know you've never seen them before? And your ears ring and your grip goes slack and you forget whatever sarcastic bullshit it was that you were about to say? That's what staring into her dark, heavy-lidded eyes felt like. It wasn't really attraction, or even surprise, but some other feeling I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I've since learned that feeling means you're already a total goner.

"Trudy Truong," she introduced herself as she stuck out her hand in greeting. It took me a beat to realize I should probably take it. "And you sound like just the person I need."

And I guess that's how I agreed to follow a cryogenically-thawed pre-war woman around the Commonwealth, in an open-ended contact, for a hundred caps less than my asking rate, and with no idea what exactly it was she had in mind. How's that for a kick in the head, Martin?