Forging into the State House this time isn't nearly as strenuous as the previous event, which had included being frisked for hidden weapons like I was a suspected terrorist or something. This time, I'm allowed to keep my weapons and to pass completely unmolested, in general. There're even a few ghouls that give me quiet nods of what looks like respect.

The hell?

Granted, I've been doing a lot of jobs lately that helped the community, but even then, I didn't figure that I'd be the type to get noticed all the way up in the oh-so-prestigious Mayor Hancock's office. Either they all have their weathered ears a lot closer to the ground than I originally suspected, or I'm utterly misinterpreting those little nods.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Fahrenheit heads off to another part of the old house when I reach the top of the stairs, giving me that same nod as she passes me and officially putting my senses on high alert. I swallow tightly and take the last half-dozen steps toward the Mayor, giving my own nod to him, rather than speak with a voice that could very well be shaking with adrenaline and nerves.

His cheery expression gives me no indication of his mood, since it seems like he's always smiling, even when he's stabbing people. Especially then. "Well, if it ain't Bobbi's little patsy! Here," he holds out a bag that jingles with what can only be caps, handing it to me, "for protecting my stash. Wise decision, turning on Bobbi like that."

I blink, though I'm trying to hold back my surprise, that little tell makes it through. "So... we're okay?" I chance a breath through my nose to steady my nerves and note... a distinct lack of rot in the air. How... odd. There's tar, a bit of older alcohol, and a distinctly fresh chemical scent, but no... huh. How'd that happen? Or did I just get that used to it?

His smile fades slightly, lending a more serious line to his mouth, features sincere as he nods. "We are." His expression falls further, to one of internal concern. "Lemme tell ya, this..." he flicks the brim of his hat, "classy little tricorner hat of mine is gettin' heavy. Am I turning into the man? Some kind of... tyrant?"

He sighs, looking thoroughly worried now, abyssal eyes downcast. "I spend all my time putting down the people I would've been proud to scheme with, just a few years ago." He turns his gaze back up to meet mine, and I suddenly realize the edges of his irises are just visible against the stark blackness of his sclera. "I need to... take a walk again. Get a grip on what really matters: living free."

I allow a single brow to arch, gifting visual expression to my confused curiosity. "Are you allowed to just... leave Goodneighbor? You're the Mayor, aren't you?"

A slight smirk tugs the left corner of his near-lipless mouth up. "Yeah, you got the right of it, aside from one little detail: the Mayor's still the Mayor, whether he's in 'residence' or not. I've walked outta here plenty a' times. Keeps me honest. Can't let power get to my head. That's not what being in charge of Goodneighbor's about, ya feel me?"

I lower that lifted brow, a crooked smile splaying onto my lips as I lay a hand on my gently cocked hip. "Well, if you're leaving anyway, why not go with me? I could use some backup while I'm helping make the 'Wealth outside of here somewhere that doesn't suck to live, and not having to buy double the radiation meds for once would be nice. Plus I'm sure having your own backup would be helpful, at times. Unless of course, you have other plans?"

His own crooked grin responds to mine almost immediately, as he listens to my proposal. The grin broadens to a full one as I finish and he nods. "Yeah, I like it. You might just be the right kind of trouble." His eyes sweep down my frame, then back up; nodding again, as if to himself. "Let me just have a little chat with my community first. Give them the news."

I smirk, straightening and taking a breath. "Alright. Want me to wait, or you gonna join me down at the gate once you're done?"

He looks me over again, like he'd somehow forgotten what I look like in the past eight seconds. A slightly devious smirk pulls one corner of his mouth aside, and he waves me on. "C'mon out onto the balcony with me. They might as well see who their fearless leader's shippin' out with."

I can't hide my surprise at that one, eyebrows hiking up on my forehead, eyes blowing wide, jaw just a bit slack. "I... but I..."

The space between where his brows once were pinches, though his mouth never loses its smile. "Y'nervous or somethin'? Don't be. They're gonna be lookin' at me, not you. 'Sides, you got a bit of a rep out here. Nobody's gonna blame me for leavin' with the woman who's been makin' so many good waves in the past weeks." He slowly reaches out and pats my shoulder. "You just do you, sister; they won't bat an eyelash, trust me."

I must appear to've been calmed by his assurances, because the hand that he'd patted me with makes its way to my elbow and he ever so gently curls his fingers around the joint, tilting his head toward the door with an inviting smile. I find myself following that yellowing smirk and the still soft pressure of his fingers, almost despite myself, through the door and out onto the balcony. He waits until I've anchored myself on the railing to his left before he releases me, and I realize then the gesture had been more support than the coercion I'd assumed it to be.

That realization makes me turn to him with a slightly warm, curious look of wonder that makes him smile rakishly when he sees it. The soft blush I can feel warming my cheeks only serves to make him chuckle, before he mercifully turns to his township, and calls out, "Hey! Everybody! Gather up, I got somethin' y'all need to hear!"

He scoffs softly when at first, nobody comes, muttering, "No rush, everyone just take your time..."

I snicker, but stay otherwise silent. He tosses a smirk at me but quickly returns his attention to the citizens finally gathering below.

"Look, everyone, I'm... takin' a walk. It's time for your fearless leader to get back out there, mix it up in the dirt before I forget what that feels like."

The Neighborhood Watch ghoul that had commented on my ass weeks ago yells up, "You can't leave Hancock; we need you!"

"Hey!" the Mayor barks back down, "I'm always gonna be here in spirit, my man. Goodneighbor and I," he says, a smile beaming out from his features like its own sun, "we got a connection. But, like any hot-an'-heavy relationship, sometimes ya gotta spend time apart. Let things cool off. Remind yourself who y'are. So that's why I'm leavin'. I'm still your Mayor, I'm still gonna be here when ya need me, but it's time for me to stop livin' so damned comfortable. Because we all know, no-one in power deserves to be comfortable for long!"

He stands a little straighter, hands gripping the railing so hard I can feel the rickety wood wobbling in his fervor as he rallies the crowd, "Now what's the best town in the Commonwealth? Where can someone live free, with no judgment?"

The crowd shouts, "Goodneighbor!"

Hancock joins in as they all chant, "Of the people, for the people!"

He nods firmly, smiling down at his town's populace. "And don't let nobody forget it!"

With that, he pushes away from the railing, and waves for me to follow him inside. Once the door closes, he turns to me with a slightly bashful, but proud smile. "So, y'ready to get this show on the road?"

I chuckle a bit, taking a deep breath before I nod. "Yeah. I need to grab someone else and snag some supplies from my room at the Rexford, but I'll be ready in a bit. I should probably let Mac know you didn't shoot me, while I'm at it. And eat dinner."

His eyes widen, lips finally losing the smile he's held for the past ten minutes. Cheeks must've been tired by now. "Shoot you? Why the hell would I do that?"

I smirk and lean toward him a bit conspiratorially, "Your reputation as a ruthless bastard is well-known in these parts, Mayor. He's just going on what he knows. It's nothing personal, I promise. The kid's just watching out for his ass, and I don't blame him. Have you seen his ass? It's cute." I straighten and my—by now devious—smirk turns into an understanding smile as I continue, "I honestly wasn't sure what to expect when I came up here. That's why I came alone, to face whatever it was on my own. If you wanted to kill me, at least the blame wouldn't be spread to whoever happened to be with me, too. Blame blankets aren't the fun kind of blankets to have."

He stares hard at me for a moment, as we stand just by the closed door that leads to the streets, looking like he's reevaluating my entire existence. Slowly, a smile spreads across his whole face, eyes lighting up like someone tossed a match in an oil drum. "Damn. I had my suspicions, but it looks like I was right. You are a kindred spirit, after all." His smile has morphed into a bright grin, and he gives me an appreciative nod. "Lead on, sister. I think this is gonna be fun."

I snort, eying him with an incredulous half-smile as I open the door and head out. "Fun? I dunno about that. I kill a lot of assholes and do a lot of grunt work. It's dirty. Sometimes it really sucks. It's usually bloody."

He follows right on my heels, keeping up with ease as we stride out onto the cobblestones. "Sounds like my kind of work. Let's get to it, then. Who and what do you still have left to collect, anyway?"

I take a breath and press my tongue against the back of my bottom teeth, letting out a shrill whistle. The Mayor looks at me a bit cock-eyed in confusion. I just wait, keeping eye contact with a barely-there smirk. After a few long seconds, I hear the clicking of the dog's nails against the pavement, and hold my hand out. A cold nose and warm muzzle makes nearly immediate contact, and I smile as I turn, crouching down and running a hand along the dog's head. "How's my boy, huh? You been off righting all the wrongs in the world, peein' on all the corners of the Mayor's town?

The dog wuffs at me, happily panting in my face.

"Yeah? Good boy."

I stand with a chuckle and smirk at said Mayor, who doesn't quite seem sure what expression to wear, after that little display. "He's who. As for what, you'll have to wait and see."

He eventually settles on amused. "I see!" he comments, a smile pulling his mouth wide as he looks down at the dog. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever seen a dog with so much hair. How the hell did he manage that?"

I shrug, heading down the alley for The Third Rail. "Dunno. He came up to me when I passed the Red Rocket outside Sanctuary Hills, and he's been with me ever since. The job with Bobbi was the first time I left him behind. Didn't want him to be a part of that whole... blame blanket, just like Mac. I don't tolerate dog-killers."

Mac'd found that out early on when I saw a super mutant trying to break the dog in half, and said mutant ended up with a brand new gaping hole in his face, courtesy of the double-barrel shotgun I'd grabbed from the floor of the mostly collapsed shop. I'd shot the fucker point-blank, in a blind rage; completely abandoning the cover I'd had in favor of protecting my dog.

It'd been worth the slug I got in the arm a moment later. Beyond worth it. That dog's saved both Mac's life and mine more times than I can count.

I kept that shotgun, too.

"I don't blame ya there. Hey Ham," he tosses an up-nod at Ham as we pass.

Ham gives me a bit of a side-eye but returns the Mayor's nod. "John. This the little lady you're finally abandonin' us for, then?"

That makes us both pause. Hancock speaks up, first. "Hey now, who said anything about abandoning you guys? I've gone out before, Ham. Ain't gotta go gettin' all snide just because I got somebody with me, this time."

Ham sends a wary glance toward me before responding, "You had someone last time. Fahr was with ya, remember? I trust your daughter, John. I don't know this dame from Atom," he adds, jerking his head toward me like I'm not worth lifting a hand to point at properly.

Hancock's about to speak when I decide to do what I can to diffuse the situation.

"Hello, I'm Shana Stewart, the dame that just kept Bobbi No-Nose from making off with the entirety of the Mayor's stash and killing his daughter and six of the Watch in the process." I extend my hand to the ghoul bouncer for him to shake, gracing him with the most genuine smile I can produce. "Pleasure to finally meet you properly."

Ham stares at my hand like it's made of cyanide for a moment, glancing over at Hancock as if to ask what the hell he's supposed to do.

"Ya gonna be rude, Ham, or accept the lady's hand, like the gentleghoul I know you can be, somewhere under that tux?"

Ham slides his gaze back to me, looking me in the eye, then down to my hand. I can see his adam's apple bob beneath the leathery skin of his throat, just before he reaches out and takes my hand in a firm shake, but drops it quickly, like I really had poisoned him.

Hancock tsks his disapproval. "Not like that, Ham; you should know better. Like this: if you would allow me, m'lady?" He turns to me, one hand behind his back, the other extended gently, a slight bow in his stance, like an old-world gentleman asking for a dance from a lady.

There's nothing I can do to prevent the widening of my eyes in surprise, but I turn to him and place my hand in his, despite my shock at how this is all turning out.

He then proceeds to bow his head to my hand and press his lips to my knuckles.

This produces a bit of a chain reaction in events.

I blush what can only be tato red. I must've also inadvertently gasped a bit, as the ghoul holding my hand looks up, lips just barely separating from my skin to grin up at me like he's just won the lottery. I can feel the soft, barely warmed brush of his breath as he chuckles darkly at whatever he sees before him.

Probably me, being a blushing mess.

He gently lowers my hand until it drops to my side, and straightens, as I stare at him, stuck to the spot as if someone had dumped a bucket of wonderglue on me.

He gestures to Ham, whom I'd completely forgotten existed, turning to him with a smug smile. "That is how to greet a lady, Ham. I thought I taught you better."

Ham's having none of it. "Cut the crap, John. Any woman who left those people in the warehouses in the state she did ain't no lady." He nods toward me in indication. "That one's a cold-blooded killer, and trained, if I had to put money on it. Half those goons were completely stripped of their clothes, and the whole place was picked clean, not a single thing left what wasn't nailed down. I know she's been gettin' a good rep out there lately, but watch her, John, I'm tellin' ya."

I scoff, shaking my head and leaning in a bit as I give Ham my rebuttal before the Mayor can, "Tell you what, Ham. When you have multiple settlements full of people to clothe, feed, water, and otherwise provide for, you let me know if you leave a single thing behind, even if it's nailed down. Every single item from that fuckhole of a job went to helping my people, so I don't want to hear about what I fucking took. I didn't steal shit from you and yours, so you can cram it up your hard ass."

I don't wait for a response; instead, I turn and make for the stairs. Not giving him the chance to respond might be petty on my part, but so was his bitching. I'll probably hear it from him on the way up, or from the Mayor, if I really fucked up, anyway.

Fuck, I need a nap.


He watches her as she retreats down the stairs, the righteous fury rolling off her shoulders as obvious as the absolutely glorious way that vault suit hugs every single one of her curves.

Ham is being an ass, but the ghoul has a point, mostly. Hancock reaches out, heaving a sigh as he pats Ham on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her."

"On more than her ass, John."

The Mayor waves off his old friend. "You worry too much, my man. You heard her: she's providin' for her own, just like us. I'd've stripped 'em down just as quick, if anyone needed the clothes or cloth. And you know it."

Ham's grumbling is his only response, though his expression and sigh convey his reluctant assent.

Hancock smiles at him, patting his shoulder again, his hand only now leaving the other ghoul's shoulder. "It'll all shake out just fine, you watch."

He turns and follows her belatedly down the stairs, rushing to mostly catch up to her, lagging behind just a bit to enjoy the view. Much as he likes watching her work—watching as she tries to stifle the expressive reactions on a face that just begs her to show every ounce of her emotion—the view he'd had the most opportunity to indulge in for any length of time in the past weeks had been this.

Goddamn but he likes watching her walk in that suit.

It's become a small torture, really; staring after her as she moved all around his town, interacting with his people, helping them; fitting right in like Goodneighbor was a glove and she was the hand that had always been meant to fit it.

Just like her curves and that vault suit, really.

Honestly, though? He'd give her everything in every one of his stashes, if it could just make that shocked blush of hers—when he'd pressed his weathered lips to her hand—show up again. It'd be worth every cap and chem.

Fuck, he's really got to get a handle on this. Or on himself, in a dark corner, preferably soon.

He observes as she weaves through the crowds and makes her way to the bar, where the 'bot he recognizes as hers is all in a tizzy before she's even seated, dragging plates over to her and setting them on a tray, piling utensils and some of the cleaner repurposed bar cloths on, before he lets her make off with it all. She says something to the 'bot that he doesn't catch from his spot, then heads off toward the V.I.P. room.

He follows, gesturing to Charlie for his usual when the 'bot spots him, pointing at the back room to indicate where it should be delivered. He doesn't check to see if Charlie understands; it's far from the first time he's given the same signal. Instead, he swiftly makes his way into the room, catching up with her properly just as she crests the end of the tunnel entrance.

She doesn't seem the least bit surprised or perturbed by his presence, so he takes that as acceptance, and falls in step for the last few paces, walking right up to the little sniper merc sitting in the only single-seater chair in the room, leaning over him and grinning broadly. "Hiya MacCready. Guess what?" He points back at the Vaultie—Shana, he reminds himself; Miss Stewart, ah, very posh, yes— "I didn't shoot your boss. There," he straightens, throwing his arms wide, "No more cause for concern."

MacCready, who had leaned back sharply, as if trying to melt into the chair at John's rather close announcement, slowly relaxes, eyes shifting to Shana in mild alarm. "I uh... right. Great." MacCready tries to form some... weird fuckin' attempt at a smile; looks more like a rad doe trynna lick its own ass, from the wrong side, unable to reach.

And ain't that just some fantastic imagery? Hancock shakes it from his mind, taking a few steps back and flopping back on the couch across from the tiny sniper man, grin still firmly in place. The rattle of his mentats tin from his jostling of it distracts him, and he reaches under his coat, digging into the breast pocket.

He notes the movement in his periphery, the rise and fall of her chest as she sighs, giving some signal to MacCready that Hancock doesn't get until the small sniper stands and retrieves the tray stand from behind one of the tables. Snapping it open, he rests it between his chair and the couch next to it, as if this is some old, rote habit of theirs. Had they known each other longer than the few weeks he knew of?

Shit, he really needs to get some better intel on this woman. He doesn't even know which vault she actually came from because he's seen her wearing three different suits, all with different numbers. It's like she collects the damn things.

Though, considering how fucking well she fills them out, it's not that much of a surprise. She has to know what those suits do for her, on a daily basis. He's caught even MacCready's eyes wandering a few times, and he can't bring himself to blame the miniature sniper one bit.

But, if the reports are true—and they usually are—she never actually uses it as anything more than a subconscious tool. She's never overt about it, and any flirting she does has more to do with her wit than her body.

He has to respect the kind of balls it takes to pull that off. Hell, it was part of the reason he'd agreed to go with her so easily. Anybody willing to make these kinds of waves is worth tagging along with willingly, rather than just getting swept up in the commotion and cast aside in her wake.

He's yet to work out her angle; what exactly she's trying to accomplish with all the turbulence she's adding to the 'Wealth's great ocean, but he'll be damned if he's not gonna try.

He pops two mentats as he looks on her settling into dinner with her little merc.

He'll figure her out, in time.