It didn't seem possible to the Courier, but the Strip looked more crowded than she'd ever seen it. Everyone was filling the streets to watch each Casino do its annual New Years celebration. Not something that was celebrated much in the Mojave, but apparently Mr. House has insisted upon it after the families had cleaned the place up and gotten everything up and running again.
The Tops had Billy Knight working the crowd, making witty comments about some of the passerby's to get them to trade wisecracks with him. Gomorrah's finest "performers" were out front miming some of their more specialized moves while the others pickpocketed the riveted spectators. Outside of the Ultra Luxe was a line that never seemed to move, apparently for their midnight masquerade gala, "members only" of course. The noise would be unbearable, if the Courier could hear it at least.
Up in the Lucky 38's lounge everything was peaceful; the only sound was the New Year's broadcast and Mr. New Vegas's familiar drawl. Most of her companions were either out on the Strip enjoying the festivities or in the penthouse doing their best to ignore them. The Courier felt she had found a nice medium in the lounge, able to look out onto the strip and see her and House's work over the past year shining brightly without having to actually partake in the hectic and wearing craze of it. This, she gathered, is how House must feel about all of it, and why he had her run around the Mojave and Strip for him.
"Lovely view, don't you think?" A familiar voice drawled. The Courier turned to see one of the securitrons balancing a few feet away, but the cartoonish colonel face had been changed to that of Mr. House. Balanced on one of its claws was a tray with two wine glasses and bottle of what she guessed was very old and very good wine.
"Mind if I join you?" It wasn't really a question and she knew that well enough. So she just smiled and nodded.
"Of course, what do I owe the honor?" The Courier watched curiously as the House securitron rolled over to a table and began setting the glasses and opening the wine. If it weren't for the fact that it was House, and nothing he ever did looked clumsy, even as a robot.
"Your fine works over this past year. I wanted to propose a toast, of sorts." With surprising gentleness he poured the bottle and handed her one of the glasses. Even though the Strip was far below she could hear the crowd grow louder, more restless.
"Alright, Mr. House, what are we toasting to?" She gave him a small smirk, thinking that he was toasting to his future endeavors, he was brilliant, she couldn't deny that, but he was a smug bastard as well .Probably part of the reason she had joined with him in the first place. Always did have a weakness for smarts and confidence.
"To us, of course." She could hear the charm practically pouring over her. He must have been hell in loafers back in the day. "To our past, and future successes." He clinked his glass to hers and watched as she took a sip. Below them the Strip counted down to midnight, they hadn't quite reached five when the world below went dark. The Lucky 38 was the only casino still lit, the Courier could practically feel all the eyes of the strip turn towards them and look up to where House and she resided. Turning towards House she raised an eyebrow, and just as the clock on her pipboy struck midnight fireworks exploded from the casino's roof. The sight from below was stunning enough but from inside the lounge it positively breathtaking. The radio began playing an old recording of Sinatra and Martin singing Auld Lang Syne, and house raised his glass once more.
"As I said before, we don't have to dream that we're important."