Despite popular belief Charon did take a break from patrolling. Rarely. Sometimes. Though they were usually very short breaks in which he'd sit at the bar and have a drink or two, because sometimes even he needed a drink. Especially with this neural flu going around, giving him a headache. Normally he would just avoid people all together with something like this going around, but he had a tin foil hat so he wouldn't have to worry about shared thoughts being a concern.

The music he hears being played from his spot at the bar is actually a familiar one. He heard it on the kid's pipboy all the time, on that Galaxy News Radio station. He also vaguely had the impression he remembered it from far before then, even. Back before the Great War. It was comforting in a way Charon couldn't really pinpoint, and he honestly didn't dwell on it too much. But it's that almost-memory that has him turning towards Bertie at the piano. Hopefully this time he won't scream at the sight of him. His head hurts too much to deal with that.

His tone is brusque -- but then again when isn't it? "But now, God knows. Anything goes."

Look, if he's going to sit there and play music the least he could do is get the lyrics right. And it just so happens to be one of the things Charon's brain chooses to allow him to remember. God knows he heard it enough.