His voice was like a finely polished blade. It could be sleek and smooth, alluring in its shine and lustre. She had seen many a person become addicted to that voice. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it in order to draw a person to his every whim. Even for a ghoul whose voices are typically destroyed by the radiation, torn to a grating rasp pushed through a withered and damaged windpipe, his was rich and gravely. His words rolled from his tongue like a seductive purr and his charisma could win over all but the sharpest of minds. But his voice could also cut, leaving deep, vicious wounds left on the heart and soul. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it in order to destroy a person from the inside out if he was so inclined. It was not uncommon to see the latter but rare enough that it still retained that shock value that leaves even innocent onlookers discomforted and on edge. Hancock was not quick to anger but once someone had ignited that pyre it was all the world could to do watch them burn by its flames. He was a very giving man, but never a merciful one.
The same analogies could be attributed to the lover he had chosen in life. The one person who had succeeded in becoming more than that casual entertainment or passing fancy. Never before had she seen one who could serve so perfectly as his equal in life and so it came as no shock to her at how nasty their first real argument turned. Both of these people where strong, used to taking control and where both incredibly passionate. When they were in love the aura of unity about them provided a glow warm enough to keep the bitterest of winters at bay. There was not a single mind that could doubt their affections towards one another and the voices sought with envy by numerous onlookers spoke of pleasantries and devotion. When they found themselves at odds that aura splintered and fractured bursting into shards that cut and wounded. Voices raised in anger or snarled with low and dangerous growls and honestly Fahrenheit had not heard as much brutal vehementy spat from Hancock's mouth in years. Sole had left with a slam of the door and no one with any sense got in their way as they stormed from Goodneighbour.
Days had passed and she had watched as the rage had simmered down into nothingness. Sole did not return and Hancock went about his duties putting on a show for the public whilst uncharacteristically losing himself in his own thoughts behind closed doors. If anything Fahrenheit would liken him to a petulant child sulking over the loss of a favoured toy whilst simultaneously being too proud to admit it. As his bodyguard it concerned her because of the dangers of such attachment and emotion. He loved sole. Deeply. And such love only served as a weakness and obvious target for threats and leverage against him but as his friend it concerned her because of the pain he was enduring. He loved sole, and she knew that sole loved him. Whatever this argument was about – some nonsense about protecting innocent robots from people who wanted to destroy their home, dreams etc (did robots even have dreams?) vs helping scavengers claim some ship in a building to sell stuff for food (as if those very scavengers wouldn't stab you in the back just as easily for a few caps). Either way she didn't really care – Both where in the wrong so far as she could see. It was the first time the two had come across an instance where they had both had such strong yet opposing views. From what she had pieced together Hancock had made some backhanded quip and sole had refused to let the subject drop despite that Hancock had gone along with their choice in the matter regardless. Sole had been giving him the cold shoulder for too long and Hancock had been the one who snapped and began the 'talk' that quickly flared up into the venomous row that had followed. Both had been arguing from a place of hurt and betrayal and both had said things that they didn't mean for the purpose of trying to harm the other. He regretted it. She could see that. She'd known him too long and even now he sat playing with the ring that sole had given him subconsciously as he stared off into space.
"Go and talk to them," she stated abruptly causing him to snap out of it with a barely controlled jump. He looked up to her, surprised at first that she had read his mind before laughing it off quietly to himself with recognition of just who it was that had spoken to him. As if she wouldn't know what was on his mind.
"Heh, it that obvious?" he sighed ending his attention on the ring and instead allowing his hands to fall into his lap loosely.
It was odd to see him this way. He so seldom presented any kind of vulnerability to the world, even to her, that it left her uneasy. She didn't like it. This was not a wound she could fix with a stim or stitches. She could not help him make any political strategy or take out an enemy with a couple of well-placed bullets. His wounds this time where invisible but deep, like a poison to the heart. The regret and the longing showed in every tired line beneath his eyes and she suspected wherever they were that sole had allowed themselves to deteriorate into a similar state. "The past is done. It's time to look to tomorrow," she told him simply. She wasn't what anyone would call a gentle person but for the very select few people she cared and he seemed to pick up on that as he smiled and nodded once taking a deep breath and drawing himself to his feet.
"Yeah, I guess you got a point.." he commented. It sounded like resignation – was meant to sound that way, but Fahrenheit knew that he was glad just to have that push. Pride alone wouldn't allow him to make the first move on his own but given how easy it was to persuade him she knew that he was only waiting for an excuse or a reason to put to going to find sole and trying to make up. He had suffered enough.
Fahrenheit watched as he stretched and, without another word, headed on out the door. She wasn't sure where he was going but no doubt he had a good idea on where to find his lover. She imagined she would be seeing them both back in Goodneighbour within the next day or two, that warm glow emanating from them once again and the world finally set to rights.