Just as Hancock had stepped out of the State House for a breath of fresh air and a puff of Jet, he spotted Claire pass through the entrance, returning from god knows where with MacCready, both of them looking battered but satisfied. It must have been a good bounty, for they happily stomped over to Daisy's shop to sell off whatever loot they'd lugged back and from where he stood behind Kill or Be Killed, Hancock could easily overhear their conversation without looking like he was eavesdropping.

Even if Claire accused him of it, he could always fall back on the excuse that he was the mayor of Goodneighbor and naturally had to keep tabs on all aspects of his town.

"Thanks again for all your help."

"Hey, no thanks necessary. I would have done anything to help Duncan get better," Claire chirped, sounding uplifted and hopeful.

Hancock had been surprised to hear Claire had taken up traveling with MacCready for a while - she was talented enough with a gun but he never would have thought she'd team up with MacCready, of all people - but never brought it up whenever they had a moment to themselves. What Claire did in her free time and who she associated with was none of his business.

At least, that's what Hancock told himself whenever he noticed himself getting jealous over someone he was still trying to figure out.

"Well, I'll be heading out with the next outgoing caravan to see Duncan, so I won't be back for a while."

"No worries. You do what you gotta."

"But when I come back, I'm all yours again."

Hancock tried not to feel irritated by MacCready's flirtatious tone and took a purposely-deep drag of Jet to calm himself. He already felt better once the drug started coursing through his veins, much more relaxed compared to a few moments ago, when he had all but been ready to gut MacCready for no other reason than existing.

"Sounds good. Be careful on your journey, and on your way back. I don't want to hear that you got into trouble."

"Don't worry. Always am," MacCready assured her and Hancock could sense the smile in his voice, though he couldn't imagine his rotten smile was anything pleasant to look at.

Hancock then took his leave, sensing that their conversation had come to an end, and went upstairs to his office, knowing that Claire would come by any minute now to catch him up on her adventures. That, and he wanted to pretend like he'd never been eavesdropping in the first place.

It was easier avoiding unnecessary confrontations, even if it would have resulted in playful banter that he was spying on her.

For the record, he wasn't spying; he was keeping tabs on what was happening in Goodneighbor.

That was just what mayors did.

"So how'd your little field trip with MacCready go?" Hancock asked when Claire finally came up the stairs, practically glowing in spite of the exhaustion on her face.

"It went great!" She let out a sigh of content as she plopped down on the red leather couch and propped up her feet on the low-lying coffee table in front of her, all the while careful not to damage or knock over any of the chems Hancock had laid out.

He didn't say anything but he secretly appreciated her paying attention to the little things, like being considerate of his stash even though he was sure it got in the way of her comfortably putting her feet up. Plus, she had been considerate enough to take off her boots and leave them by the door rather than track in whatever she might have picked up on her travels.

"We had to deal with a lot and I mean a lot of feral ghouls but we found the medicine. Just one dose, but hopefully it'll be enough to cure Duncan."

"I hope so, too," Hancock agreed. "Hey, since your mission was so successful, why don't you and I get a drink at the Third Rail to celebrate? My treat."

"You know I don't drink."

"Never said it was limited to booze. Charlie's got Nuka-Cola, doesn't he?"

"He does! Let's go!"

Hancock couldn't resist chuckling to himself at how Claire sometimes reminded him of a puppy hyped up on sugar or a little kid who still possessed some innocence and excitement - such innocence never lasted long in the nuclear wasteland but Hancock had once been that innocent and naive himself, even if it had only been for a short time - and followed her down the stairs and out into the cold air.

It was nice walking with her because even if they had nothing to say, neither of them felt like they had to talk in order to prevent things from getting awkward. Hancock was proud to say that they were comfortable enough with each other that they didn't feel the need to fill every waking moment with chatter when silence sufficed just fine.

Hancock held the door to the Third Rail open for her and couldn't help but watch the coattails on her blue jacket swish from side to side - was that the coat of the Minutemen leader? - as she walked down the stairs into the bar. She didn't tell him about every little thing that was going on in her life but her clothing made him wonder if she had any dealings with the Minutemen or if it was just another thing she'd scrounged up.

Claire definitely had a flair for clothing on the fancier side but it could also do her well to not wear something so flashy because of all the enemies it could bring her. Hancock couldn't imagine that any raiders she came across would be happy to see her decked out like a Minuteman and were likely to try to shoot her down, thinking there was some raider overboss who was offering a big payout of caps for her head.

Thing was, they would have to face one hell of a dangerous scavver who wouldn't just lie down and let them walk all over her. She was hardened by the wasteland and could handle herself surprisingly well; it was one of the many reasons why she fit right in with the rest of Goodneighbor.

Once they were seated at the bar with their poisons of choice - Hancock had ordered a Gwinnett stout and bought a Nuka-Cola Cherry for Claire - in front of them, they felt a peaceful lull fall over them. It was nice just sitting at the bar and keeping each other company while enjoying Magnolia's melodic crooning; compared to their usual escapades, sometimes it paid off to just kick back, relax, and enjoy a good drink without having to constantly look over their shoulders for Raiders, Super Mutants, or any other beast belonging to the wasteland.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" Claire said sometime later, when the amount of Nuka-Cola had dwindled to about half inside the glass bottle.

"You wanna talk to me, of all people?"

There was some truth to Hancock's words - he couldn't imagine why she would want to tell him something intimate - but he was also teasing. At least, that was the safest assumption to make since she had asked beforehand if she could broach a certain topic to him. Whatever it was, it sounded like it had been bothering her for a while.

He was secretly glad she trusted him enough that she was willing to spill her guts to him - figuratively, of course.

"Yes, because I can't trust Piper to keep her mouth shut without running straight to the presses, and even if he was here, MacCready's not exactly the heart-to-heart type."

"Well, then, I'm all ears."

"So I've been having really weird dreams lately," Claire admitted as she played with the bottle cap that had come with her bottle of Nuka-Cola, idly pushing it around on the bartop.

"About what?"

"A Vault, of all things. I'm in a pod and it's really cold and it takes a while before I find a way to let myself out. And then, it turns out that I'm the only survivor and everybody in the other pods is dead."

"Freaky…"

The dreams had started as flashes but then become more vivid, feeling so real that Claire sometimes woke up shivering like she had just walked out of a freezer and paranoid that she was still in that scary vault. In the early hours of the morning, it was difficult to discern where she was, which added to her terror until she managed to remember to turn on the flashlight on her Pipboy and saw that she was in a room at the Hotel Rexford and not in that scary place.

She had scavenged in a lot of genuinely creepy places but the place in her dream took the cake as being the scariest by far.

If given the chance, Claire would never scavenge there even if she was guaranteed a bounty of a million caps because there was no telling what monsters and boogeymen lurked around those dark corners and not even a guaranteed retirement could motivate her to go digging in that horrid place.

To make matters worse, three names were always in her mind - Nate, Shaun, and… Codsworth? - whenever she had these dreams but she didn't know who those people were and why their names kept coming back to her.

Were they somehow important? Was she supposed to go looking for these people and help them?

But that's ridiculous! Claire thought.

She couldn't just go walking around the Commonwealth, asking every single person she encountered if they were named Nate, Shaun, or Codsworth and even if she did somehow meet people by those names, there was no guarantee that they were the Nate, Shaun, and Codsworth from her dream.

Plus, who the hell named their kid Codsworth? Nate and Shaun, she could understand, but Codsworth? It had to be someone's last name, Claire thought, and if it wasn't, she would eat her tricorn hat.

"I've been having that dream a lot lately. Maybe I should lay off the Jet, huh?"

"Maybe you need more Jet," Hancock playfully suggested. When Claire made a face, he corrected himself by saying, "Nah, I'm just kidding."

"I've wondered that same thing myself sometimes. Maybe it is just withdrawal making me have weird dreams."

"Well, then, you just say the word and we'll take a little chem break."

"Mmm…" Claire hummed, sounding like she was pondering his proposition. "Maybe some other time."

"That's fine." Hancock wasn't the type to pressure anyone into getting high if they weren't up for it.

Highs were supposed to be pleasurable experiences and there was nothing worse than having a bad high. A person had to be in a good headspace to have an enjoyable high and forcing it just for the sake of tripping out was a recipe for disaster.

"I should get going."

"Already?"

"Yeah, I really need to get some sleep or I'm gonna pass out right here. Charlie won't be too happy with me if that happens."

They shared a laugh at this, for the mere thought of White Chapel Charlie yelling at Claire to wake up and take her drunk ass anywhere but the Third Rail despite being his only consistent non-drinking customer was pure comedic gold for the duo. Of course, they would never tell him about their little inside joke, knowing it would only irritate the liquor-slinging Mister Handy if he ever found out, but weren't above giggling about that from time to time between themselves.

All they had to do was try not to laugh in front of Charlie, for the sake of avoiding getting any strange looks thrown their way.

"And hey," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. The smile on her face was bright and her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the Third Rail. "Thanks for the Nuka-Cola, John."

"Yeah, sure," he muttered as she slid off her stool and left the bar.

Long after she left, he felt his shoulder burning where her hand had been and it was then that Hancock realized just how much he liked having Claire by his side.