Last few days it'd grown harder to convince himself the daily rounds were necessary.

He'd gotten used to the dirty looks, had even learned to tolerate the spit flung at the ground whenever he turned the corner. For weeks he'd practiced the calm, disarming smile he flashed at anyone with a murderous glint in their eye, one hand always tucked into his red overcoat. As long as people knew to give him a knife's worth of personal space as he strolled down the street, he could handle a little disrespect.

But recently, his walks had come with an itch that followed him from the moment he stepped out of the Old State House. It wasn't the kind of itch that came with the rad-burned, sandpaper skin of a ghoul. It was more a general unease, a latent fear that something, someone was out to get him. And with Fahrenheit off to supervise a shipment, there was nobody to scratch it away. Something he was keenly aware of as he walked by Daisy's old store, now occupied by a clean-shaven man with slicked-back hair and an easy smile.

The man nodded and Hancock returned the gesture, moving crisply to the common. There were a couple of wasters stretched out on the stone benches, smoking. One waved lazily as he came by, the rest ignored him. Two men armed with submachine guns were playing cards by the patchwork of wood and metal sheets that separated Goodneighbor from the rest of the city. Neither looked up from the table as he swung past, heading back towards home.

Even here, in the heart of his kingdom, he couldn't shake the itch.

"Morning Hancock." A scavver muttered, in a tone that snapped Hancock out of his thoughts. It stank of contempt, layered lightly with a touch of mockery. He looked up to see a man in a grey coat, one hand pressed to his forehead in a derisive salute. It took patience, more than he knew he had, to smile back.

"Morning to you too, Finn." He replied, waving casually as he moved past the dusty prick. A few eyes began to wander his way as Finn trailed after him.

"How's the weather?" He asked, picking up the pace until they were side-by-side. "Radstorms keeping ya fresh?"

Few things could rile him up faster than that ugly smirk. This wasn't the first time he'd been hounded by someone. Last week it'd been a hungover Minuteman who'd tagged behind him, shouting out his disgust for ghouls until a couple of his friends dragged him away. With the General's boys, he had no choice but to shut up and take it.

But a challenge from Finn was different. The man had a reputation in Goodneighbor, and enough caps behind him to make him a serious threat. One hand slipped into his coat, just making sure his knife was where he'd left it.

Finn didn't miss a beat, letting his own hand drop to the pistol at his hip. "What's the point in carrying around a knife if you don't have the guts to use it?" he asked, his tone openly hostile.

"Trust me, Finn, that mug of yours has been through enough." Hancock replied, fingers tightening around his knife. "A couple more scars and the cheapest whore in town won't touch you."

Finn's eyes grew wide, hand curling into a fist at his side. Hancock stood his ground. People were starting to stream into the common, drawn to the scene like bloodbugs to brahmin. It'd been a while since they'd seen blood spilled in Goodneighbor.

"Nobody wants you around, Hancock." Finn spat. "Ghouls belong in the Slog. Ugly ones like you belong in the ground."

This was what the itch had been warning him about. His eyes flicked over the spectators surrounding the two of them. He was hemmed in on all sides, trapped in a cage that'd only allow one survivor. It was bound to happen sometime; the streets of Goodneighbor needed to be watered every once in a while, no matter what the General said. But he'd always expected to have Fahrenheit at his side when shit kicked off.

"Last chance." Hancock snarled. "Back the fuck off."

"Make me." Came the reply, and a triumphant smirk.

Strike hard and in the neck Hancock thought, picturing Finn lying on the ground gushing from his jugular as the knife slithered out of its sheath. Don't let him–was that music?

He tilted his head, straining to pick up the faint noise coming from somewhere behind his opponent. At first he thought he'd imagined it, but Finn had noticed it too. He took a cautious step backwards, casting a wary eye on Goodneighbor's entrance.

"–don't care how famous he was. His music's boring!" A high-pitched voice whined over the wall. Finn glanced back at him before stepping closer to the door. The crowd had grown in size, and nearly a dozen people watched and waited for the latest development in their confrontation.

"The Ninth Symphony was Beethoven's most famous piece!" A different voice replied. "You will like it, I'm sure."

The metal door creaked open. Finn tensed. And two women entered Goodneighbor, joined at the hip, staring into a Pip-Boy.

"I listened, and the ninth whatever doesn't even have any words." The woman with fiery-red hair snapped,

"There are words, but they're in German." The dark-haired woman replied, reaching for the volume dial.

The redhead pulled her arm away, scowling.

"Stop it!" She cried. "It's my Pip-Boy, we're listening to my music."

Finn grinned, glancing sideways at Hancock before moving to intercept. The ghoul kept still, eyes locked on the woman with red hair.

"Good morning!" He began, giving the two a broad, cheery smile. His voice oozed confidence and dripped with friendliness; the redhead's eyes narrowed instantly.

"Thanks for the compliment. Now buzz off." She grunted, trying to move past him.

"Now hold up there!" Finn insisted, moving to block her path. "You can't enter Goodneighbor without insurance."

"Insurance?" the other woman asked, looking thoroughly confused. "Insurance against what?"

Finn rolled his eyes, angling his hip to reveal his holstered gun.

"Insurance against muggers, robbers, murderers." His brown eyes glinted with malice. "People I don't like might end up dead in a ditch, unless they pay up."

"I think you may be confused." The dark-haired woman suggested patiently. "What you're suggesting is extortion, not insurance."

Finn paused, taking a second to think through the stupidity he was dealing with here. He'd seen many degrees of stupid in the past. There'd been rad-fried wasters dumber than the brahmin they herded. Drugged up raiders who'd be hard-pressed to beat a Bloatfly at a game of cards. But this woman, who was smiling at him like he'd just asked her out to dinner, might've just taken the prize for the dumbest scavver he'd ever come across.

"Listen here, broad. You don't pay up, someone's getting hu-"

The man's sentence was interrupted by the ear-splitting sound of a weapon discharge. A small puff of smoke rose from Lily's revolver, and she was careful to blow gently on the barrel before replacing the gun at her hip.

"Lily!" Curie's shriek cut through the stunned silence.

"What? He was trying to extortion us!" Lily replied, sounding unhappy about being on the defensive twice in the last five minutes.

Curie was kneeling by the man's body, fingers pressed against his neck, checking for a pulse. "He's dead."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I could have told you that, doctor. He took a bullet to the head."

"You can't do this." Curie's voice quivered, her fists shaking at her side. "This is wrong."

"You heard him, didn't you?" Lily demanded, hands on her hips. "He said he'd hurt us. I was protecting myself."

"There are people who handle this, Lily." She looked up at the crowd, searching desperately for a police officer. Worn faces greeted her, each more hostile than the last. Her eyes landed on a ghoul in a red coat, the only one who wasn't glaring. "Like him!"

Lily followed her gaze, eyes widening when she saw the crowd of spectators. She spotted the absurdly dressed ghoul immediately. Froze. Her annoyance turned to surprise, then confusion before breaking into disbelief. Curie could have scribbled out a page of analysis on the movement of Lily's brow alone, as it rose, twisted, dipped, then rose again.

Slowly but surely, Hancock's lips curled upward. A smile lit up the ghoul's face, and he took a step forward with open arms. He didn't need to take another.

"Hancock!" Lily shrieked, throwing herself into his waiting arms. Curie watched in awe as raider and ghoul embraced, her pouty expression replaced with one of sheer joy.

"The one and only Lily returns!" Hancock declared, ignoring the angry and curious eyes on his back. The redhead's hair tickled his chin, nose digging deep into his chest.

"Woah there, princess! I'm an old man now!" Hancock joked, peeling away from the suffocating embrace. "Let me breathe!"

"You're wrinkly." Lily said, her own nose wrinkling as she surveyed him from head to toe. The smile on her lips made his heart leap like it hadn't in years. "What do you use to keep your skin so fresh? Plasma?"

"Yeowch!" Hancock brought his hand to his heart, trying to look wounded. "I'll have you know I only let the finest Mirelurk blood touch this beautiful body."

Lily's laugh was so light, so pure that Hancock forgot all about the crowd watching him. Forgot about Finn's corpse leaking red all over the cobblestones. They could wait, everything could wait until after he'd heard that laugh a dozen more times.

"Drinks. You, me and your friend." He nodded past her shoulder. Lily glanced back to see Curie, standing awkwardly in the center of the courtyard.

"This is my…" She paused with no idea of what to say next. Doctor? Partner? Pet vault dweller? And how could she possibly introduce Hancock? Friend? Mayor? Father?

Hancock sensed her indecisiveness and stepped forward, extending a hand. "Mayor Hancock, Goodneighbor."

The woman tenderly grasped his hand with the tips of her fingers before giving it a light shake. "Curie, Goodneighbor."

Lily giggled, digging her head into his side.

"She's weird." She whispered, and Hancock smiled.

"Well, Curie Goodneighbor, would you like a drink?"

"Who was that asshole at the gate, Hancock?" Lily asked, sipping her Nuka-Cherry conservatively. "I thought newcomers didn't have to deal with that crap."

Hancock sighed, idly swirling his glass of whiskey.

"Things have changed here, Lily." He muttered. "I can't do much about pricks like that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Goodneighbor used to have some balance to it. For the people, by the people, as long as you stuck to the rules you were fine." Hancock scratched his cheek. "The new General changed everything."

Lily felt her blood run cold. The sugary-sweet drink in her mouth lost some of its taste. A supermutant's cruel, ugly face forced its way into her thoughts.

"General of what? The Minutemen?" she asked.

"Yeah, who else?" The ghoul's eyes narrowed, and for a second Lily thought he'd seen through her weak attempt at sounding casual. But then he grinned and shook his head. "Sometimes I forget how long its been. There's a woman in charge of the Minutemen now, and she's quite the character."

"What did she do?"

"No killing." Hancock spat. "Do whatever you want, as long as nobody dies."

"That's a stupid rule." Lily muttered.

Hancock smiled. "Amen to that, sister. Goodneighbor's always run on that golden rule; don't crap on anyone and nobody craps on you."

"Then why'd you let her do it?" Lily asked, taking another small sip of her drink.

Hancock sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was better than what Diamond City got. No chems, no booze, no friendly ladies at the bar." He winked. "Why even stay alive at that point?"

Lily chuckled, her face flush with embarrassment.

"Now people like Finn crap all over the place, and all I can do is clean up after them." The ghoul gave her a lopsided grin. "Until you came by, that is."

"So am I in trouble?" Lily asked, with a playful smile. "You gonna lock me up?"

Hancock didn't miss the slight tremor in her voice, or the way her leg suddenly began shaking with restless energy. The look on her face was identical to the one she'd given him when he'd found her under his bed, searching for his stash of Nuka. Guilty, but confident that an innocent smile would get her off scot-free. She was still the little girl he'd been tricked into raising, despite the scars and grime and busted lip.

"For the moment? Yeah."

Panic flashed across her face, eyes flicking towards her dark-haired friend at the bar before landing on the exit. That's new Hancock mused, watching her hand dip below the table.

"Relax, flower." He held his hands up, placating the cornered raider. "It's not that bad."

She looked at him, suspicious. Her left hand was still out of sight, no doubt wrapped tight around her revolver.

"You're not giving me to the Minutemen." She said, a statement that would have been threatening if doubt hadn't turned it into a question.

"Course I will." Hancock said, as seriously as he could. He watched her frown deepen, then vanish as he gave up and began to grin. "Eventually. I've got to write a letter first."

"A letter?" She looked lost.

"Yeah, to the General. That's the way we do things now." He winked. "I'll get started on it the second I get sober. Can't write to her while high, can I?"

"But you're always–" Realization finally hit her, the first hints of a smile tickled the edge of her lips.

"I'll have to send the letter eventually. Next week, maybe the week after. I'll let her know we had a little fight, things got out of control." He shrugged. "She'll send someone over to investigate."

"There aren't any Minutemen in Goodneighbor?" Lily nodded towards the bar. "What about them?"

Hancock didn't turn around. "Surprised you noticed. They're not wearing blue."

She looked pleased with herself; her cheeks changed color to match the Nuka-Cherry she was sipping on.

"One of them has a pouch. It's got the Minutemen symbol on it. The lightning." She traced out a jagged line on the table.

He nodded. "We've got a deal, us and them. I keep their lips wet, they keep 'em shut. Goodneighbor's the only place this side of the river serving booze that's even halfway decent."

"So I could stay here forever?" Lily asked. He sighed, felt a pang of pain somewhere in his chest. Those wide, blue-green eyes, they'd always been his weakness. He hated saying no to them.

"Afraid not. Sooner or later, someone's gonna rat. Especially since you shot Finn." He sighed. "General was funding that prick, trying to get him to take over here."

"Guess I did you a favor then." She smirked, emptying her bottle and waving it in his direction. "Think I deserve another."

"That you do." Hancock said, waving at the bar. A waitress arrived a few minutes later, carrying another bottle of Lily's favorite drink.

"Thought service would be faster." Lily muttered. The bottle she'd received was covered in a layer of dust, cap still firmly in place. "Didn't even open it."

Hancock reached for the bottle, bringing it to the table edge. He gave it a hard smack, letting the drink fizz before handing it over.

"Ghoul service." He answered. "Even the mayor gets to wait."

"Is that why the General tried to replace you?"

"Probably not." Hancock frowned, scratching his chin. "Probably wasn't even her that made the decision. You know what morals are?"

Lily shook her head.

"They're like…bad feelings you get when you do something wrong."

Lily nodded, lips and eyes glued to her drink.

"She has them. Means she never would've worked with a scumbag like Finn. Or any raider for that matter. And even though she might hate my guts for looking like a seven-day-old mutfruit, she wouldn't slip some scavver caps to try and get rid of me."

He'd lost her. Even though Lily was nodding along, her eyes were wandering away from the conversation. They moved over to the bar first, where her friend was hunched over, talking to the man next to her. Then they landed on the corner stage. Specifically on the woman in the dazzling red dress sauntering over to the mic.

"Hello Goodneighbor." Magnolia's sultry voice floated through the damp, smoky air of the Third Rail, ending every conversation it touched. Lily watched, transfixed, as the first notes of a melody began to play through the speakers.

It wasn't so bad, losing Lily's attention to Goodneigbor's biggest attraction. It was why he'd insisted on dragging her into the Third Rail instead of the Old State House in the first place. Magnolia had arrived only a few months after Lily left, a tragedy he felt obliged to fix. He remembered spending long, sleepless nights in bed, listening to Lily sing softly in tune with the radio when she thought nobody could hear. If anyone would appreciate Magnolia's music, it would be her.

"I see ya looking round…" She began, and Lily's eyes went wide. He couldn't blame her; Magnolia's voice had blunted sharper minds and softened harder hearts than hers.

"…the corner. Come on inside…and pull up a chair."

Lily leaned in closer, trying to drink in a sight sweeter than any Nuka-Cola she'd tasted. He reached over and plucked her real drink out of her frozen hands. She didn't even blink.

The song went on for a few minutes, during which Hancock alternated between sipping Lily's drink and watching her fall in love. When Magnolia's voice trailed off and she began swaying in place to delicate notes of piano, he watched with some amusement as Lily brought her empty hand up to her lips, sucking on air for a second before she realized her drink was gone.

"Hancock!" She cried, then shrank back into her seat as a dozen voices shouted in anger. Reluctantly, she turned back to the show. A few seconds of watching those killer curves sashaying behind the mic and she'd forgotten all about the drink.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked, poking her in the shoulder once the music died down.

"W-What? Yes? No! I mean…" Lily trailed off as Magnolia bowed low. Even amidst the cheers and applause, Hancock heard her breath catch.

"How old are you now, Lily?"

She peeled her eyes away from Magnolia to frown at him. "Twenty-seven. Why?"

Twenty. Maybe twenty-one. Just a girl.

He shrugged, tilting his head towards the retreating singer.

"How would you like to meet her one-on-one?"

Now he had her full attention. "You can do that?"

"Magnolia's a friend. And you're clearly a fan of her…" He paused, waiting for a reaction.

A blush, a quick glance down at the table. Good enough. "…music."

"That'd be nice." She mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. "Thanks."

"It'll cost you though." Hancock said, wagging his finger. "I need you to be on your best behavior while you're here. Can't change what happened to Finn but from now on, you keep that gun holstered. Understood?"

She folded her arms across her chest, puffed out her lips into a childish pout.

"I helped you by killing him. I helped you and now you're yelling at me."

"I'm not yelling at you, princess." He sighed. "Just trying to repay the favor. There're some important people in Goodneighbor right now and the last thing you want is for them to start looking your way."

"Kick 'em out Hancock."

"It's not that simple." He nodded over her shoulder, at a man sitting at the bar. "Watch him."

Lily kept her turn casual, just like he'd taught her. She raised a hand towards the bar, eyes scanning the man's faded, yellow trenchcoat and battered fedora. He looked normal, like any other drunk at any other bar. She was about to turn around when she saw it.

Yellow, glowing eyes. Metallic fingers that clacked across the bar as he reached for his cigarette. Wires poking through the small gap between his hat and collar. She gasped.

"That's a synth!" She cried, her voice drawing confused and angry looks from everyone in earshot. Worried eyes followed her quivering finger, landing on the figure at the bar before rolling away, disinterested. The…thing brought the cigarette up to its face, unfazed. She whirled around to see Hancock frowning.

"Don't ever call someone a synth." He growled, in a tone she'd never heard from him before. "Even as a joke. Even if they're made of metal and chewing on wires you don't call anyone a synth."

"But he's…" She scoured her limited vocabulary for a way to describe what she'd seen. "…not human!"

"Neither am I." Hancock whispered, leaning closer. "And since you're a raider, neither are you."

She blinked.

"It's been a long time, Lily. Things are different. The faster you get used to that the better."

Hesitantly, she tested her voice and was surprised to see it was still working.

"Why…" She began, watching his face. He nodded for her to continue. "Why is he here?"

"There was a murder here, a few days ago. You remember Dr. Amari?"

The name sounded familiar. Something about memories?

"She worked at the Memory Den." Lily answered, and Hancock smiled in approval.

"Sharp. Anyways, Irma found her dead in her lab. No suspects, no witnesses. Just a knife in the chest." He reached out to clasp her chin, tilting it away from the bar and towards him. "Don't stare. General sent him to solve the case."

"A mystery." Hancock spotted dangerous crackles of curiosity flickering behind her eyes. "A murder mystery."

"Oh no. Don't even think about it." He jerked a thumb at the man at the bar. "Nick's been solving cases since before you were born. The last thing he needs is a wannabe sidekick who's read one too many stupid comics."

A transformation took place, right in front of his eyes, right when he'd expected it. Blue-green eyes darkened, eyebrows knitted, cherry lips pursed into a frown. Nick was history. Gone. Forgotten. Right now, the only thing going through her head was the insult he'd so casually tossed out. It took everything he had to keep a straight face when her cheeks puffed out ludicrously, trying to make space for the dictionary of slurs she was getting ready to throw at him.

"The. Silver. Shroud. Isn't. Stupid." She growled. It was hard to make out how much of her fury was genuine; right now, she looked ready to launch herself across the table.

RIP Hancock. Neck torn out by a rabid comic book fan. Should've kept his mouth shut.

Instead he tempted fate, ignoring the advice of his future tombstone to give the fuming redhead a toothy grin.

"Look at you. Twenty-seven years old, all grown up." He shook his head, looking at her with pity. "Still trying to defend the Shroud."

"Yeah? Tell me why it's stupid." She demanded through clenched teeth. "Or take back what you said."

He strongly considered doing just that, and not only because her fingers were tightening around an empty Nuka bottle. The ruse had done its job, kept her mind off the synth detective and whatever silly ideas seeing him had cooked up. But something stopped him. The smile on her lips, growing more pronounced by the second. Innocent, playful, filled with the naïve confidence that she was right, that the Silver Shroud really was the smartest, bravest hero in the world. God she was such a kid.

"Let me tell you a Shroud story, Lil. One you've never heard before. When I'm done, if you still think the Shroud's the greatest ever, I'll take it back."

She nodded and released the bottle, leaned back in her chair. Tried to look casual, uninterested. But her fingers drummed on the table with nervous energy, her eyes bright and attentive as they waited for him to start.

"No interrupting." He warned, then took a deep breath.

"Kent Connolly was a good guy. Not the kind of guy Boston wanted, or even liked. People like him had a habit of pointing at the problems everyone else wanted to ignore; the back alley drug deals, the murders that went unsolved. Kent had a soft spot for children, and he couldn't stand seeing the city's gangsters using them to sell drugs. His heart bled more than most when he saw a mother crying over her daughter's body."

"This isn't a Shroud story!" Lily blurted out, frowning. "It's a…Kent story. Who cares about Kent?"

Hancock rose out of his seat without a word, heading for the exit.

"Wait!" Lily cried, leaping forward to latch onto his arm. "You can't leave now!"

He regarded her coolly. "You going to let me finish then?"

She nodded, chewing on her lip. He sat back down, making sure to glare at her again for good measure before he continued.

"Kent had heard about the Silver Shroud. He'd read about her in books, followed the stories in the news. The Silver Shroud could solve all the city's problems, couldn't she? If she knew who the bad guys were, if Kent helped her, together they'd make the streets safe again. All he'd have to do was find her—"

Lily squeaked. He looked over to see her hands planted firmly over her mouth, shaking her head.

"Go ahead."

She shook her head again.

"You've already interrupted, Lily. Just tell me."

"You said she. The Silver Shroud is a man."

"Right." Hancock scratched his head. "My bad."

"Keep going." After a moment of thought she added "Please."

"Kent started a radio, tried to get his attention. Went on for weeks, spending every cap he had to keep it running. Was ready to give up, take a gun and go after them himself." Hancock closed his eyes, shaking his head. "He was the kind of guy Boston didn't deserve. A hero."

Lily, sensing a pause in the story, chimed in. "They didn't have caps back then, y'know" She drew a rectangle on the table. "They used paper. Dollars."

"Anyways, Kent was out of dollars and time when the Silver Shroud appeared at his doorstep. He'd listened to the radio, wanted to help get rid of scum who used children in their schemes. Kent told him where he could find a guy who sold drugs to children, and the Shroud nodded. Didn't ask for money, didn't wait for details. Just took off. The next day the drug dealer was dead. They found a card on his body."

"The Shroud's calling card." Lily whispered, eyes wide.

"Exactly. Over the next few weeks, bodies kept showing up in Boston's darkest alleys. Criminals were terrified to step outside at night. Gangsters shook in their boots, wondering if they'd be next. And Kent broadcasted every death, letting the terrified people of Boston know that the Shroud was here, wiping scum off the streets."

Lily's smile grew wider. Probably imagining herself as the Silver Shroud, or the beautiful Mistress of Mystery or even the well-meaning Kent. A good guy. He wondered if she'd ever realize her real place in this story. A body on the ground, collecting dirt and spit with a calling card jammed between her teeth. A raider who'd met her well-deserved fate.

"Eventually, one of the bad guys had enough. Kent was broadcasting when it happened. The villain dragged him out of his home, took him back to his lair. The radio went silent, the people even more. Everyone was waiting for the Silver Shroud to save his friend, bring back the hope they so desperately needed."

Hancock went silent. If he'd been in Goodneighbor, if they'd known Sinjin was coming…

"What happened next?" Lily's excitement burst through lips desperately trying to stay shut. She'd never had much patience.

"That's it." Hancock shrugged. "The radio went silent. Things went back to normal. Children were kidnapped off the streets. Anyone who'd passed Kent information disappeared over the next few weeks. And the Shroud never showed up again."

"What!" Lily was shaking. "What happened to Kent?"

"Couple of days after, he started broadcasting again. Something new every day, always at the same time, always telling the Silver Shroud exactly where he was being held. After some time, the broadcasts grew more desperate. A week later, it was just the same thing playing over and over again. Week after that, silence."

"What was on the radio?"

"Screaming. Begging. Crying." Hancock waved, taking a long, unhealthy puff out of Jet. "They were torturing him, you see."

"Bullshit!" She cried, rising out of the chair. "The Shroud would have saved him!"

"How?" He demanded, suddenly furious. Whether it was the chem or some pent up emotion he'd never dealt with, his bared teeth and clenched fists scared her back into her seat. "It was a trap! Dozens of raiders, each clutching their gun and praying they'd be the one to take down the Shroud. He'd be dead the moment he showed up."

"Oh." Lily said, dejected. Then her eyes lit up. "He'd use a disguise. Grab one of the bad guys at night, when they're sleeping. Take his suit, pretend to be one of them and save Kent!" She beamed at him.

"And if he was caught? Next time the radio played, both of them would be screaming into the mic."

But Lily was shaking her head, wearing a confident smile.

"The Shroud wouldn't get caught. He's a master of disguise."

Hancock sighed, giving the jet more time to make its way through his body. There was no point in getting worked up over things he couldn't change. Kent was dead. Lily worshipped the Shroud. And if she didn't already know that heroes, even the ones wearing fedoras, weren't real, the Commonwealth would teach her that lesson better than he could.

"I think I like your ending more, Lil." He conceded. "Now tell me, you still like the Shroud now?"

"You made that story up." Lily pointed an accusing finger at his nose. "Admit it."

"I swear, all of it was real." He said, but her rolling eyes made it clear she wasn't convinced. "Honest."

"The Shroud saved Kent, Hancock. He always saves people, even from a million raiders." She pursed her lips. "You changed the ending."

"Alright, I admit it!" He threw his hands up in surrender. "I made it all up."

"I knew it! Take back what you said!" She cried, leaping out of her seat. "Take it back, Mutfruit-face!"

Hancock jumped to his feet, ignoring the strange looks the two of them were getting. "Make me, tato-head!"

Lily pounced, but he was already retreating towards the exit. He caught Magnolia's eye, her delicate brow raised. Grinning, Hancock scurried up the stairs and out of the bar with the tato-head hot in pursuit.