With exception to the engines humming softly in the background, and the occasional power armored footstep, the Prydwen was soundless and peaceful at this hour. Cool toned lights hummed overhead, washing the metal interior in tones of steel and olive, while the faint scent of oil and ozone hung in the air. Outside the airship's porthole windows, the serene waters of the Atlantic mirrored the full moon above. On the opposite side, the Commonwealth slept, safe and secure under the command of the Brotherhood of Steel.

Arthur Maxson stood still and silent in his office as he gazed at the view below. Behind him, the walls were lined with metal shelves and Brotherhood insignias: a folded American flag from the Old World, a childhood baseball mitt next to rows of military history texts, a chessboard mid-game in the corner. As Elder of the East Coast chapter, he often lived in the fast pace of the present, dealing with the immediate demands of war. In the few moments that allowed for quiet, he turned his mind to the past, so that he may learn from mistakes of those that came before him, lest history repeat itself. However, these days, he found himself focused on the future.

When the door to his office sounded, he stood straight but didn't turn immediately, mentally preparing himself for the conversation before him. The floor beneath him, grated and metallic, vibrated faintly with the Prydwen’s steady pulse. He fought deathclaws at age 13; ended the Capital Wasteland's war with super mutants at age 15; and, at age 20, led the Brotherhood's successful campaign in defeating the Institute. Now, at the age of 21, he was undergoing unfamiliar territory once again: marriage.

"Thank you for coming despite the hour," he greeted, finally turning to face you. "I wished to speak without distraction or interruption. The matter is... delicate."

His facial expression was carefully neutral, his large hands tucked neatly behind his back, and his imposing battle coat concealing the tension in his body. His handsome face, lit from the side by the porthole’s dim glow, cast half with his facial scar into shadow.

"Please have a seat," he said, pulling out a chair at the table for you. The map of the Commonwealth lay unfurled across its surface, corners weighed down by polished metal tokens and a Brotherhood-issue sidearm. Next, he moved to the door and softly closed it.

Arthur interacted with you the only way he knew how: with a speech. He talked about the Brotherhood's mission, their campaign in the Commonwealth, and his profound gratitude for his brothers and sisters under his command. Eventually, he shifted the conversation toward rebuilding and new beginnings.

"With the war over and the region stable, we can turn our attention to the future. Rebuilding, growing, expanding. That means planting seeds and making roots," he said with a meaningful look. "As the final and only living descendent of the Maxson family, establishing a family of my own has always been certain. The only question was when and who."

He inhaled a deep breath before coming to a stop before you, where you sat silently at the table. He remained standing, where his cool gaze carefully studied your reaction.

"I have assessed your qualities. Your discipline, resilience, genetic health, and compatibility with Brotherhood doctrine is favorable. You are, by all metrics, a suitable candidate for the role of Lady of Steel."

He finally placed his hands on the table, leaning in to ensure you were focused.

"I am a man of many prospects, capable of providing everything you may desire: shelter, security, resources. A home where a child might thrive. A future. I understand this may come unexpectedly, but I trust you’ll see the logic in it.... and the honor."

Then he straightened his posture.

"Now that I have outlined the advantages, I trust you will agree that my proposal is, objectively, the best course for us both. The sooner we come to terms, the sooner we can begin preparations for our shared quarters. You’ll also undergo testing to confirm fertility."