Happy New Year, all! This was one my favorite chapters to write! Uh, trigger warning I guess towards the the middle? It's not too graphic, but better to warn than not. Next chapter is a favorite of mine as well, so I hope you guys enjoy! Seriously, thanks so so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews. I do it all for you.
For the past two hours Hancock amused himself by watching Betty jump at every little noise along the way. His favorite moment was when a feral ghoul, crippled by an overturned newspaper bin, grabbed at her ankle with a growl. The height of that particular jump was impressive and he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of a total babe losing her shit.
"This is absolutely ridiculous, all of it," Betty muttered. "I'm really surprised I haven't gotten either of us killed. Sorry you have to put up with me...even now, I still get a little nervous out here."
"You never gotta be afraid with me at your back. You're gonna get hurt sometimes, that's just reality. I'll get hurt too. We won't come out of this any prettier, but I ain't gonna let you die. Don't really see your concern, though. Shootin's on point," said Hancock in earnest.
"Yeah, with rifles and the only reason I'm half-way decent is because my dad would hunt during the fall and forced me to go along. Thank god he did that for me, at least...we didn't really get along."
"Too firm a hand?" Hancock asked after a short pause.
She nodded her head, not sure where such openness came from. She figured anything she told the ghoul, save for her bra size, would be forgotten once he took a chem break. He'd be due for one any minute now.
"My old man was the same. Gives people like us a head start on how to handle shit..and maybe give some back." Hancock gave Betty's shoulder a hearty pat before he added, "You'll pick up everything else soon enough. Not much of a choice, considerin' most of the Commonwealth's a death trap, but you got me to show ya the ropes."
Hancock was becoming quite good at surprising Betty with his thoughts. She didn't imagine they'd have much in common. Except music. That they agreed on ten feet away from the gates Goodneighbor without question.
"We gotta do somethin' about that damn DJ," said the ghoul as he followed Betty through the lobby of a building. "Makes me wanna shoot up twice as much sometimes."
"I'm sure if he hung out with you for a week, he'd lighten up a bit," said Betty.
"Heh, right about that," said Hancock. "Hoping I can do the same for you. You need to relax."
"Maybe after I hug my son."
The ghoul was bursting with questions for the sole survivor but after what she told him about her late husband, he was afraid to pick at wounds not yet healed. Still, it was best to know as much as possible about your partner out here in the Commonwealth. When one's life hung in the delicate balance of power and upper hands, it was in Hancock's best interest to know just how much baggage the vault girl carried.
"So is it safe to assume you saw the bombs fall? Must've been fuckin' intense," he said.
"They fell right as the elevator for the vault took us below ground. I'll never forget the rush of the wind from the fallout," Betty said in a low voice. "Nothing compared to waking up and going above ground to find everything in such a mess, though. That was more of a shock than anything else. I felt helpless."
"And now?"
"Not so much. Hey, maybe you'd recognize the man who took my son and...and shot my husband," said Betty.
"I know more than a couple assholes capable of something so fucked up. What do you remember?"
"He was mostly bald. Some dark hair, and a thick scar over the left side of his face. Brown eyes. Looked like a mercenary type, pretty fit for someone a few years older than me."
"And how old are you, not countin' the centuries you were frozen?"
"Just shy of thirty four. Birthday's in February."
"Good thing I prefer older dames," the ghoul joked. "Tryin' to rattle my head over the details but I can't think of anyone who fits that description. There might be a guy that fits, but Nicky would be better help with that."
"Either way, that man is dead the second I find him," she said.
"Don't blame ya. I'd do the same if I had any mini-me's running about."
"No kids at all for you?" she asked.
Hancock chuckled and replied, "None that I'm aware of. Ghouls are sterile otherwise from what I hear, but I wouldn't be shocked if a surprise turns up at my door one day from before I turned. What about you, ya got any others?"
"Just the one."
"Then let's make sure we find him."
Since Hancock joined up with her, Betty felt a bit more confident in her search for Shaun. Something about having a partner to watch your back made it feel real. Preston was a good friend, but Betty couldn't blame him for being caught up in repairing the Minuteman name. The soldier had taught her enough to make it this far. Now, she had a ghoul sidekick who was scary good with a knife and showed a few raiders earlier just how well he handled a double-barreled shotgun. He asked Betty to stay behind while he cleared the lobby and studied his skills, impressed and a bit terrified that he could be so ruthless all while he was as high as a kite.
"What'd you and your husband do for a livin' before everything went to shit?" asked Hancock after he climbed back down a ruined lightpost to scout ahead.
"Nate just retired from the military. He was in it most of his life, but was injured so they sent him home. We were on our way to a veteran's banquet the night the bombs fell. I'm...well, I was a public defender."
"Is that like a cop or somethin'?" he asked as he lifted a flimsy metal sheet, nodding for the softskin to walk ahead and when she did, his dark eyes followed the curve of her hip.
Betty felt the ghoul's eyes on her as she ducked beneath his arm. Before the war, she was never one to stand out unless she had a few drinks filled with courage in her. Now, amongst the ruins of rusted cars, buildings blasted and crumbling, and a smattering of dirty, wild-haired wastelanders, she stuck out like a beacon. Thankfully, he went no further than a lingering gaze or a harmless pat on her arm. Truth be told, Betty was nervous to be alone with him.
"A type of lawyer, for people who couldn't afford one when they went to court. Mostly criminals, but a few I took pity on. They'd get caught stealing food or selling drugs to feed their family, and I'd try to convince the judges to be lenient with them. I didn't make much money, and it was exhausting as all hell, but I loved it. Every second of it," Betty explained.
"I expect people with your trade made a tidy profit."
"They usually did. My college buddies always gave me shit, and spent their earnings on beach houses and fancy cars they were too afraid to drive. I didn't grow up well off, and made friends with some dumb kids who taught me how to pick locks and how many beers I could really stuff in a parka. Ended up in front of a judge, and was given a public defender. She gave a damn about me. So that's why I did it..." she smiled and said, "For the people, as you'd say."
"A woman after my own heart," Hancock replied as he put a hand over his chest. "Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin' to survive. I'm not willing to stand for that kinda shit. Glad you feel the same."
"Is that why you shivved that man when I arrived in Goodneighbor?"
Hancock laughed. "Finn was trash. Fahrenheit and I were itchin' for a reason to snuff him, so thanks."
"How'd you end up with her as your right hand...woman? She's really..."
"-Huge? Scary? Hot?"
"Yes, hell yes, and currently questioning myself."
Hancock gave a hearty laugh but his face turned dark before he cleared his throat. "Right after I turned, maybe two or three months went by, I saw her getting slapped around by her pimp when I was makin' my way back to Goodneighbor after slingin' some dope."
"I'm not one to frown on sex work but that's horrible."
"Normally, huge fan, but not for her situation," he explained. "She was just a kid. Maybe twelve or so."
Betty gasped.
"I paid 75 caps for her. Hid her away in a subway station for a bit while I got my caps back. I, uh, hung him from a light post over his 'corner.' Used his intestines. Washed up, brought her to Goodneighbor and Daisy offered to raise her. The girl was always a bit tom-boyish, though, so she followed me or Ham whenever she got away with it. Kleo and I taught her to fight, shoot, and blow shit up. Every year on our 'anniversary' if ya wanna call it that, she gives me 75 caps. I have 'em all saved up for her, for a rainy day. Should be a nice surprise."
"I wouldn't take you as the fatherly type since you're so...free-spirited."
Hancock chuckled and said, "I actually like little ones. Funny as hell when you're stoned but they...don't really take to me much, now. All the ghoul hate doesn't help. Fahrenheit was the only one who wasn't afraid."
Night fell rapidly during Boston's winters, even nuclear winters, it seemed. The pair would have to find a spot to settle in for the night, unless they wanted to risk crossing downtown at night, which Betty was not at all excited about.
"Here's good for me," said Hancock when they reached an apartment building tucked around the corner from Hubris comics. Betty knew that Diamond City was only about a half hour away but nightfall brought out the worst downtown had to offer.
Betty dropped her lack on the counter in the lobby and said, "Good for me, too. Not that I'm in any position to be picky, am I?"
The ghoul shook his head with a laugh before he leaned over the counter and turned the music up on Betty's Pip-boy.
"The music's not going to attract more attention to us?" she asked.
"Not much more than this fire," explained the ghoul as he added trash littered around him to the growing fire he'd just lit in a garbage can, using the burning embers of his cigarette. "Small fires spring up all the time and I can't begin to tell ya how many times I found radios still playing whatever they catch off the airwaves."
The sole survivor sifted through the file cabinets beside a broken computer monitor and found a magazine from before the war, pages stiff and stuck together, but still readable. The Ink Spots began to play over the radio and Betty watched the ghoul as he hummed to himself, opening doors and peering around. She sat on a small couch and flipped the magazine to the sneak article mentioned on the cover.
Betty was about halfway through the article when Hancock hopped over the back of the couch and threw an arm around her. She screamed bloody murder, throwing the magazine in the air as she toppled to the cracked tile with a thud. The ghoul cackled with amusement until Betty pulled a rusted 10mm handgun out and pointed it right at him.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" she hissed. "Stop laughing and fucking answer me!"
Hancock raised his hands and chuckled before he replied, "Sorry, I just realized that I ain't ever heard you say 'fuck' before. I like it! Say it again!"
"I told you I was married!"
"Whoa now, I ain't like that, just get a little friendly when I'm buzzed. You know, handshakes, camaraderie and that kinda shit? Didn't mean any harm." The ghoul lowered an arm and reached out to Betty, slowly as to not spook her again. "C'mon, I'll help ya up."
She took his hand and Hancock pulled her back onto the sagging couch with a groan. The thought of spending a night alone with someone she knew nothing about set off every nerve in her body to flee. If she did, there was nowhere to run but out into the madness of downtown if Hancock decided to turn on her.
"Besides, it ain't no good for me if the gal's not into it," he said with a wink. This time, he laid down, taking up most of the couch and rested a leg across Betty's knee before he lit a cigarette. He took a drag before offering it to Betty, who slapped it out of his hand.
"If you didn't notice, it's fucking terrifying out here. You can hardly trust anyone, water and food are poisoned, fucking..mosquitoes are three god damn feet long now for crying out loud! Did you see that shit? And what really pisses me off is the fact that I can't even take a piss without fear of something coming out of the toilet to kill me!" Betty held her head in her hand and whispered, "I knew life wouldn't be the same the second my family ran to the vault. I fucking knew that. But I didn't think it would end up like..." she threw her hands up and choked out a laugh. "I'm so grateful Nate doesn't have to go through this shit...although he would've been better at it than me. I sat at a desk or in court. Nothing that would help me now."
"How the hell would you even know you'd be frozen in the vault and wake up to all this? Don't beat yourself up about it. You just gotta be real crazy or real tough to survive out here. Least, that's what worked for me."
The ghoul leaned over to pick up the still lit cigarette from beneath the couch and popped it between his lips with a grin.
"I don't know. Sometimes I think Shaun and I would be better off dead, like Nate," Betty said without pause.
"Hey, don't say that. You've already done more shit for the people than most wastelanders have, and the reality is your boy is out there and we're gonna find him."
"What's your story, Hancock? How'd you end up as mayor of an anarchist town?" Betty asked as she moved to the very edge of the couch. Diverting attention to his past would keep him at bay for the time being.
"My favorite subject," he replied as he rubbed his hands together. "I came into Goodneighbor about...oh, a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then that made the ladies swoon. While I was busy making myself a grand pillar of the community, I would go on these...like...wild tears. I was young and a bit of a shithead as most young bucks tend to be at that age. Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind left, and only one hit. Didn't know it would turn me, though."
"Did it hurt? When you changed?" she asked, curious.
"Oh man, the high was so fuckin' worth it. Sometimes, I even go to the memory den and relive it in all its glory. Yeah, I'm living with the side effects, but hey, what's not to love about immortality?"
"Immortal?" Betty asked with wide eyes. "You must be joking."
Hancock blew out a cloud of smoke and explained, "Well...not exactly. Ghouls just age really, really slow. I mean, if I got shot in the head, I'd be done for like anyone else. Must be somethin' about the rads...rads'll hurt you, but feel good for me. Heals up wounds and everything, but it can take a while. Life ain't too good for us ghouls, though. Most wastelanders can't stand the sight of one. Diamond City doesn't even allow them in anymore."
"I guess all that chem use definitely prepared you for a career in politics, then," Betty scoffed as the ghoul reached for yet another Med-X.
Hancock sat upright, his dark eyes cold before he replied, "You know, for a lawyer, you sure like to play judge. People respect me out here because I don't put myself above them, all right? I sling and shoot up just like the next fuckin' guy. So, before you bring me down, is there anything else you'd like to judge me on?"
Betty narrowed her eyes and her fingers inched closer to her pistol. "Excuse me?"
"Look, there ain't no other way to put it but you kinda come off like...you're some sort of god damn elitist." The ghoul lifted his arm and pointed at Betty's hand before he snapped, "And don't think I don't notice your hand creepin' toward that gun of yours. You sure you wanna play that game with me? Because I ain't fond of bein' the executioner, no matter how damn good I am at it."
Betty made a grab for the pistol and screamed when a knife appeared and pierced the gun to the cushion right through the trigger. She looked at Hancock, who held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers as her face drained of color.
"A little party trick of mine," he said with cat-like arrogance. "Don't make me do what I don't wanna, softskin. Just quit the whole, pointin' a gun at me thing and we can be friends, ya feel me?"
Betty stood up and knocked Hancock's leg away. She knew it! She knew Hancock would try something. Everyone in this world was the same and the only answer was to kill or be killed.
"Here, you need this shit more than I do, Jesus," Hancock snapped, throwing the med-x at Betty. "Take a load off and relax. If anyone here should be on chems, it's you."
"So what, you're trying to drug me now? And do what?"
Hancock stood up and said, "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me. The hell is your problem, softskin?"
"Stop calling me that!"
"That's what you're pissed about?" Hancock took a step forward. "All you had to say-"
Betty recoiled behind the couch. Before Hancock uttered another word, she grabbed both her knapsack and rifle, and fled into the ruins. She didn't know where she would go, but she had to get away from that ghoul and everyone else. She would find Shaun without anyone's help.
"Don't be an idiot! It's danger- ah, the hell with it," Hancock shouted to an empty room.
It must have been close to eight or nine in the evening, Hancock wasn't sure as he didn't care much for keeping time, and he sat on the couch once again. He sifted through the pockets of his duster and found a Jet inhaler, unused and pristine. After that fiasco with the softskin, he just wanted to get lit, but as he brought the inhaler to his mouth..he couldn't. Knowing Betty was out there alone and losing her shit didn't sit well with the ghoul, no matter how aggravated he was. He stuffed the Jet back in his pocket and grabbed his shotgun to go after Betty.
"I swear, if this dame ain't worth it, I'll blow my god damn brains out," he muttered to himself.
Betty felt like such a fool to put her trust in someone who probably hallucinated half of his life away on one chem or another. There had to be something wrong with that ghoul. God knows how many chems she watched him inject into his veins and yet his skill with a blade or a gun was unmatched. Most people would be unconscious or dead if they traded places with him. It was unnerving to know he was capable of anything and she couldn't stand to take that chance any longer.
All that was left was to make a run for Diamond City, and Betty was making great time with regard to that. Until the butt of a shotgun slammed into the pit of Betty's stomach, knocking the wind out of her and sending her to her knees.
With a burning breath, she looked up and saw a raider veteran clad in cage armor, smiling down at her with cruel eyes. He pulled Betty up by her shirt, the stitching giving way, and licked his chapped lips.
"Looky here, boys!" the veteran shouted as dragged his combat knife across Betty's cheek. "Ain't this one a treat?"
"Get the fuck away from me!" Betty hissed as she pushed him away and backed into a stone wall. She made a wild reach for her rifle but it was knocked aside by the veteran.
"Ooh, fiery too? Won't have much fire after I'm done with ya," he said with a snarl. "You'll be lucky if you can shit right by sunrise."
The veteran pinned Betty against a the wall and ripped the sleeve of her jacket. Without pause and a bit of bravery she managed to muster, Betty sank her teeth into his forearm. He reared back in pain and brought down his combat knife with a roar of anger. She grabbed his wrist and held him back, enough to spare her life and vision, but not enough to prevent the blade from slicing down her face from eyebrow to jaw. Never in her life had she felt such blinding pain and terror; it was worse than being shot. This was it, the end of her fight, and for what? A few more seconds of anguish?
Several trash cans toppled over as the veteran moved to attack Betty once more. The raiders turned, pointing their weapons at the source of the newfound chaos, which appeared to be one really shitfaced ghoul.
"It's just some drunk drifter! Get outta here, bitch or you're fuckin' dead!" a raider shouted. The others laughed, lowering their guns.
Betty scrambled away and huddled behind an overturned dumpster. She wiped away the blood from her eye and saw it was no ordinary ghoul, but the mayor of Goodneighbor himself. And god, did he look fucked up beyond comprehension.
"What's happenin', boys? T-this the party?" Hancock slurred. "But where's all the good lookin' dames at?"
Hancock stumbled and fell at the veteran's boots, laughing to himself. The three raiders stood, dumbfounded and unsure of what to do with a drunken ghoul.
He rolled onto his hands and knees, and glanced over at Betty, the left side of her face drenched with blood. It was all the fuel he needed to spark rage that lay dormant in the depths of his heart. "Ohhhh, there's one! Heh, now it's a party."
The ghoul dropped his drunken facade and threw a handful of rubble at the raider veteran, blinding him. He pulled a .44 magnum from his coat and tossed it to Betty before he took to his feet and ripped an assault rifle from the closest raider's arms. The butt of the rifle slammed back into the raider's head, splitting his skull. Betty took aim and managed to shoot the veteran's leg despite shaky hands, enough to turn the attention back onto her.
"Get out of here, damn it!" Hancock shouted to Betty before he aimed the rifle at the raider veteran, who lunged at her. The veteran took several shots to the back before falling. "Go, go, go!"
One last raider, and Betty had a lock on him. As he heaved a sledgehammer towards Hancock, she squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet through the raider's neck.
The ghoul dropped the almost-spent rifle with a clatter and rushed over to Betty, who now slumped over the cold metal of the dumpster lid as her body slid into shock. He pulled her to his chest and walked her toward the fire pit to get a better view of her injury.
"Hancock," was all Betty had the energy to say aloud.
"I gotcha Birdie, s'alright. Here, sit and lemme take a look at that."
He turned her face away from the fire and grimaced. It was worse than he'd imagine. The blade had penetrated deep into her skin, exposing a bit of bone. He'd have to stitch the wound somewhat before he could even use a stimpak.
"You c-came after me," Betty whispered, her voice broken. "Why?"
Hancock swept the matted hair from her forehead and smiled. "Finn was right, ya know. I do have a soft spot for crazy dames."
Betty tried to smile and cried out instead, the pain too unbearable. A gurgle broke the silence in the alley and Hancock narrowed his eyes.
"I'll find somethin' to fix ya up with, but I gotta take care of him first. It'll only be a sec." Hancock stood up and balled his fist before he added, "And don't watch, or ya might never look at me the same way again."
"I won't."
Hancock walked over near the raider veteran, who struggled with his final breaths. The ghoul picked up the revolver he tossed to Betty moments ago and checked the chamber. Four shots, as expected. Despite her promise, Betty turned her head and watched as the ghoul looked over her attacker with interest. He lit a cigarette and ashed over the raider's face every few drags as the man whimpered with pain. When the butt fell from between Hancock's fingers, the ghoul kicked the veteran several times in the ribs until he was out of breath.
"You probably think you're a real tough bastard, don't ya?" said Hancock as he stood over the veteran. "So tough, you were gonna force yourself on that softskin. Big fuckin' mistake."
Hancock aimed at the raider veteran's groin and fired twice, allowing him one last scream of agony before the ghoul chuckled and said, "Heh, not much of a man now."
He pointed at the veteran's chest before he fired the last two shots. Not yet satisfied, he picked up the rifle and emptied what was left in the clip until the veteran's head was an unrecognizable, bloody pulp.
"Done in by the best," said the ghoul, dropping the spent rifle on the dead raider's chest. "Lucky you."
Betty turned away before Hancock noticed her watching him. He was right. She wouldn't look at him the same way ever again and when the ghoul returned to Betty's side with a stimpak and a sewing kit, she grabbed his rough hand and gave it a squeeze. He didn't expect it and smiled down at her before cleaning up the wound with a bit of water, trying to wipe away the blood and dirt as gently as he could.
"Thank you," Betty whispered. "I'm sorry I was such an idiot."
"Welcome. If you ever want me gone or I do some shit that don't fly, you know, all ya gotta do is ask. Don't gotta run off into the unknown again and get killed," he replied. Betty nodded, her eyes blinking back wetness. "Now, I ain't no surgeon but I can close this up. You'll have a scar, though."
"Is it bad?" she asked.
Hancock hesitated, not wanting to lie or upset her, and answered, "Yeah...it's pretty bad, but hey, you're gonna look fuckin' bad ass with a scar like that. New haircut, maybe some ink and you'll fit right in with the rest of us out here."
"Well, I was getting tired of all the staring."
"Oh, don't worry," Hancock assured her as he handed her a flask from his pack. "I'll still be dreamin' about ya, scar and all. Now drink up, so we can get this over with and I can get back to wonderin' what you'd look like in that red coat of mine."
"Let me guess..I'm not wearing anything underneath, am I?" Betty asked with a laugh after chugging most of the rum the flask held.
"Not a stitch," Hancock replied as he pushed the needle through her skin.
She winced, more for the motion of a needle piercing her skin rather than the pain of an amateur surgery. "Does that kind of charisma work out well for you?"
"More often than you'd think, softskin," he said with a glance at her.
Betty waved his thoughts away and said, "You can call me whatever you want, I was just mad back there."
"Good to know."
Hancock finished with her stitches and injected the wound with a stimpak before he helped Betty stagger to her feet.
"Rum do the job?"
"God, more than you know."
"Then let's find somewhere to hit the hay. C'mon, put your arm around me and I'll walk ya."
Hancock grabbed Betty's wrist and pulled her pip-boy close to his face, pushing a few buttons until the flashlight blinked on. He led them further away from the Boston Common, knowing what lurked within the murky pond. The sight of Swan wasn't for the faint-hearted.
"You're a swell guy," said Betty, the rum having gone right to her head.
He laughed. "For a ghoul?"
"No, damn it, for..anyone!" she whispered a bit loudly. "I didn't expect to meet anyone like you. Hence my, uh, poor choices back there. If you didn't follow me, they...they would've-"
"-But I did. Lost ya for a few minutes when you dipped around the comic store. I listened for any noise at all that would lead me to you and then I tripped over those god damn trashcans," Hancock explained before he laughed again. "It was like the universe kicked me right in the ass."
"That was a good, by the way. Even I thought y-you were shitfaced. Now it's just me who's shitfaced. Heh, imagine that," she said before a hiccup overcame her.
Hancock enjoyed this version of Betty as much as the sober one. She might've been a little stuffy but in the end, he was right. She just needed to loosen up a bit. "I caught the theater bug a few years back.. man, was I fucked up. Still, I learned a thing or two about workin' on the fly."
Betty laughed to herself. "Geez..could use some of that."
"Fake it 'til you make it, baby."
She stopped to pull a newspaper from a bin and fanned herself with it. Hancock pressed his face into Betty's shoulder and snorted with laughter.
"The hell is so funny?" she asked.
The ghoul gathered some composure before he answered, "You're such a fuckin' lightweight. I bet you get high just lookin' at me."
"Screw y-you, I've done..chems," Betty slurred.
"Oh, you're a bad girl now? Got a ride of choice? I'm more of a mentats ghoul myself. Makes me feel..intellectual."
"All right, all right, so I only smoked pot when I was in law school. You guys still have that shit, right? ..Could go for a joint right about now."
"The fuck is pot? Like, a cooking pot? Heh, didn't think you could get high off-"
"-No, no, it's this..plant that you smoke and...you know what? Never mind. This p-place fuckin' blows."
"In here, Birdie," said Hancock as he pushed open the door to a dress store. "And it ain't all bad out here. Plenty of good folks who want nothing more than a quiet life."
"Birdie? Haven't had someone call me that since gradeschool."
Inside, the ghoul took armfuls of dresses and made two piles behind the counter before he dragged a set of drawers in front of the door. Betty slumped down and stared at the ceiling tiles, the alcohol distorting her vision a bit.
Hancock's grinning face appeared above hers and he asked, "You good?"
"I wish I had a real bed but this is nice too," she whispered.
"Picked out the softest ones for ya."
Betty snorted and swatted him away. "You're so full of it."
They both laughed and he rolled onto his back beside her. If this was even a glimpse of how things could be, Hancock knew that whether they became more than friends in the end or not, he'd never leave her side. It was nice to open up a little.