"Well hello there, Mister Mayor," Stone crooned alluringly as she sauntered up to the mayor and his bodyguard. She tipped her trilby hat at him and unabashedly took a seat next to him at the bar. The grape mentats were her favorite, and she relished that they made her so brazen.
She was sitting inches away from the man that brutally stabbed one of his citizens for challenging him, and all the while she was wearing a slick smile. In later sobriety she would chastise herself for doing something so dangerous, but she didn't care about that right now.
Hancock nudged the woman next to him, a grin on his face, "Look who it is," his beady eyes were sparkling under the neon and low lights, "Glad to see you can actually back up your words in this town." He chuckled and motioned for the modified Mr. Handy, and then looked at Stone expectantly, "Consider it a welcoming present…"
"Stone," she stuck her hand out and a small shudder went through her as the two shook hands formally.
She looked over at the Mr. Handy, "Gwinnett lager, if you have any." She returned her attention to Hancock and the bodyguard, who watched her stoically while wearing a scowl.
"I wanted to say th-" he waved her hand in front of her and lit a cigarette as White Chapel Charlie placed down the lager on the sticky bar.
"Now don't go saying that sister," Stone grinned at him, taking a few slugs of the beer and listening intently, "I already told ya, Goodneighbor is of the people and for the people."
"That was a very compelling speech, Mayor," she looked him over, wondering how she could befriend him. He seemed like a beneficial connection in the Commonwealth, and she was becoming a bit antsy at the slough of ideas in her head.
"I'm looking for work," she stated matter-of-factly, rolling the bottlecap between her fingers, blinking her amber eyes slowly and watching him think.
She figured if she could get established as a merc in Goodneighbor, she could slowly make friends with the mayor. It was a major bonus that most of the denizens were drug addicts and her chem creations were her favorite pastime.
The sweet taste of the grape mentats lingered in her mouth and her eyes sparkled with jovialness as she saw the mayor pull out a familiar red canister.
"Well," he said between an inhale, "if you feel up to it, I need someone to do a little recon at the Pickman Gallery."
After a bit of haggling, Stone was able to get Hancock to agree to 500 caps for the job, all the while he was grinning at her charisma.
"Consider it done," she winked at him as she pulled out a tin of mentats, offering one for the mayor, "We can celebrate properly as soon as I get back."
As much as she was drawn to be back in her little home away from home, Stone was as equally compelled to travel around the dilapidated ruins of Boston some more before visiting the eerie Pickman Gallery and reporting to Mayor Hancock.
Instead, she would wander aimlessly during the day to new places, sticking close to the buildings and always scanning her surroundings.
She briefly thought about returning to Sanctuary, and even though she was the General of the Minutemen, she was slacking on her jobs, lackadaisically saving settlements here and there. She just didn't want to go home and meet Preston's dissatisfied gaze again.
She had sent a good bulk of the Minutemen to the Castle to be under Ronnie's guidance once they had taken it back, but she had put a lot of time and sweat into rebuilding the pre-war houses that were still standing in Sanctuary, and because of this, she planned on enjoying her time there.
It had taken her and Sturges months to replace the houses' roofs, but she was grateful the walls were still in a decent enough condition to not need much repair, save for some lead lining needed for the occasional rad storm and patchwork. The housing lots they tore down became shabby shacks where they held everything from parties to town meetings and to housing the guard's lookout on the top most floor.
Stone was extremely proud of those buildings made from the ground up; the rest of the houses she had remodeled and built them to be as guest houses for caravans and homes. Sanctuary was slowly starting to look more and more like a little city with the power pylons running to each house, the gardens that were found in organized little plots growing every food available, and the rubbish from the war cleaned up off of the street.
The town lived up to its name.
She was brought back to reality when she stubbed the toe of her boot on a twisted piece of metal that was sent skittering down the road in loud, clanking noises. She peered at the tall buildings around her, and instantly she took a breath and could smell the familiar copper scent of blood.
Spiked poles, hanging cages, and torsos hanging from giant steel hooks…she slapped her thigh for walking right into Raider territory. She hadn't been seen, and she dropped into a crouch, slipping into the shadows. Instead, she noticed that this territory was different.
Stone noticed a security gate and plywood on the fences with the large letters scribbled on them: COMBAT ZONE. She noticed Raiders up on the stairwells near the gate, and they had their guns slung over their shoulders in a laissez-faire manner.
Checking her outfit to note that it was sufficient for battle and that she had enough ammunition for her assault rifle, she palmed some homemade bufftats and put a canister of jet in a readily available pocket. She had a capped needle of med-x and psychobuff in opposing pockets.
With her chems in reach, Stone bravely stepped out of hiding and walked up to the gate, wearing her best scowl and letting her eyes reflect despicable emotions in an attempt to fit in.
It didn't work.