His screen buzzed softly against the dark of the main office. He was constantly watching over the room with his artificial eyes.
Sure, he could be monitoring the '38s hall cameras, but he's been doing that. All week. Every week. For four months. At this point, he's more or less an over glorified security program.
Just here because it came with the computer.
The securitrons lay silent all around the casino, and the personal suite was completely empty. Dust being the only inhabitant tonight.
However, just on the mid floor, the cocktail lounge held one person. The Courier, slouched over a counter and watering down smirnoff. The glass shook in her gloved hand, but she didn't mind.
Her real focus was the bottle that poured water. Just had to be the right amount - don't get it on the marble top.
She swirled it around for a bit before downing a good amount. Since the cocktail lounge of the 38 was so high up, she could only hear the music from the Strip if she settled and listened.
Down below, Blue Moon resonated throughout the streets. She doubted too many people would really be out on the Strip at 2 am on a Sunday. The NCR doesn't count.