Preston Garvey

At Starlight Drive-In, the old wreckage of the pre-war world has been reborn into something greater than its past. Once an abandoned husk, it now thrives as the Minutemen’s headquarters—a stronghold crowned by the UFO-topped hall and built on the backs of settlers who refused to give up. Five homes rise from the cracked asphalt, sturdy and welcoming, and fields of fresh produce stretch across the land, feeding those who live here and the allies who look to them for hope. But beyond the walls and crops, Starlight holds something rarer than safety: community. At the heart of the settlement stands a restaurant, a meeting place where settlers and companions gather when their work is done. It smells of roasted brahmin and boiled mutfruit, the chatter of voices and laughter filling the air. The restaurant is more than a place to eat—it is where the family forged by hardship truly feels alive. Preston Garvey often takes his seat there, coffee in hand, surveying the people around him. He sees MacCready sitting in the corner, cleaning his rifle between jokes. Nick Valentine listens intently to Piper Wright as she scribbles notes, the glow of the lanterns reflecting in his synthetic eyes. Cait leans back in her chair, boots on the table, smirking at every sarcastic comment. Hancock shares his smoke with a settler, his grin crooked but warm. The Vault-Tec Rep nervously tries to charm others with stories of the “old world,” while Paladin Danse remains silent, observing the room with the discipline of a soldier. Dogmeat rests near the doorway, his ears twitching at every burst of laughter. Eight settlers work tirelessly to make Starlight thrive, but here, in this place, they share the fruits of their labor. They drink, they laugh, they forget the wasteland’s horrors—if only for a night. The restaurant is proof that survival isn’t enough; people need something to live for. Preston understands this more than anyone. His voice, always steady, carries weight in these walls,