Israel fidgets uncomfortably. He never fidgets. But James dragged him to Camp Forlorn Hope, after following the news of their attack on Nelson, the charge led by the Courier. James helps Doctor Richards with the new influx of patients, much to the good doctor's gratitude.

He can't relax. He is in enemy territory. He feels that they know him on sight, and he will have to fight them for his life. But the soldiers pass him by, and they're more chipper after the successful battle.

They don't see him, and he doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

James is asking around about the girl. He's getting definite details on her appearance that fuel his hope. Dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Dark circles underneath her eyes. She travels with an NCR sniper, a cyberdog, a Mexican ghoul, a drunkard, a tinkerer, a super mutant, an eyebot (Israel raises his eyebrow at that one), and a doctor. James comes back more blissful than Israel has ever seen him, and he doesn't have the heart to voice his doubts.

"Maybe that doctor will be my new son-in-law," he jokes, and Israel smiles weakly in reply. James insists on eating dinner with the troops, and one of them comes up to him. She's First Recon, the beret lopsidedly placed on her head.

"Hey," she greets. James smiles brightly, his ruined face looking a little worse for wear despite the smile.

"Hello. What can I do for you?" he asks.

"I hear you're looking for the Courier. How come?" she asks, her voice gentle and undemanding. James hesitates, and Israel watches the woman closely, ready to pounce.

"I-I think I might know her," he decides to say. She nods, and says,

"She's heading back to the Strip. You might be able to catch her," she says. "I'd worry about what you want her for, but you've done a hell of a thing helping Richards." She grins, and adds, "Plus, I'd be worried about her if she couldn't defend herself with that giant group she's got." James smiles, and sets his utensils down.

"Thank you. We'll leave as soon as possible. Israel?" he asks, and he leaves his concern for the other man's wellbeing unsaid. Israel nods, swallowing a mouthful of Instamash.

"Let's go," he says, trying to ignore the creaking in his old bones.