Hiding In The Green: A Fallout 4 Story

Good Neighbors

Nick left the Third Rail about midnight, stubbing out a last cigarette and saying "Good night and so long, Hancock. I expect we'll be gone before you're up and around."

"Yeah, Nick. Watch yerself." Hancock waved goodbye and returned to living it up. Except that it didn't feel so much like he was living it up these days. He was getting restless again, and it wasn't the kind of restlessness that any amount of chems could soothe. Well, that wasn't strictly accurate, because a really massive amount of chems would definitely cure him of restlessness, by seeing to it that he rested six feet under forever and ever. He wasn't ready for that yet.

He noticed the newest bloodstain on his cuff, a souvenir of Finn's passing. There were things you had to do when you were a mayor, and one of them was making sure Goodneighbor had the necessities, like food, water, chems, guns, ammo, and so on. Unless some miracle rendered them self-sufficient, they needed outsiders to come in and trade without fear of getting ripped off, ripped up, or raped. The irony was that in order to live without laws, you had to be honest, and some people just weren't capable of that. Like Finn. Or the Triggermen. They were really just raiders in better suits, and there were far too many of them in town for his liking.

Picking a canister of Jet off the bar, he shook it and inhaled deeply. One advantage of being a Ghoul was, you could do a lot more chems. The disadvantage was that you had to do a lot more chems, because they didn't have the same kick. Jet was made from the fumes given off by the manure of Brahmins fed on a special supplement, so basically you were getting high on cow farts, although most manufacturers did add something to make it smell better. It didn't do a lot for ghouls, although there was supposed to be a stronger version called Ultrajet made especially for ghouls, invented by a ghoul. He'd bought what someone claimed was Ultrajet a few times, but since there was no difference to the high, he figured he'd gotten ripped off.

He wanted a new chem, something he'd never done before, but there wasn't anything he hadn't done at this point, except maybe X-cell. Maybe he ought to get clean again and go without for a while so the same old, same old had more of a punch again.

Hancock dropped the now empty canister and swiveled on his barstool. One of the regulars, a female ghoul he knew, perked up and gave him a smile, but it was the kind of smile which meant, 'You have chems and I have a vagina. Let's share.' Which could be okay, if all both of you were looking for was a quick fix. Yet he found himself thinking about Raina Queen and her smile, which was warm, sweet, joyous and even a little goofy. It would be nice to see her smile like that again, especially if it was at him. He even harbored a thought or two about telling her she had really beautiful eyes, as much as because of what they saw as how they looked. Then the mayor of Goodneighbor grimaced. He must be drunker than he thought, getting all sentimental about a smoothskin who just walked in one day with Nick and who would walk out again the next and probably never return.

Then again, maybe he'd turn in now so there was a chance of being awake and not hungover by the time she and Valentine left in the morning...

Since he didn't sleep, Nick Valentine took a seat in the hall outside Raina's room. Before settling in, he glanced in on her. King immediately sprang up into a defensive stance, but relaxed when he saw it was someone he knew. Raina was fast asleep. He made sure to be quiet when he slipped the manuscripts for her booklets out of her pack. On the way to Goodneighbor, she had told him why she went to see Piper in the first place, and he had expressed an interest in reading what she'd written thus far. She took him up on that, and asked him to take note of wherever it could be improved.

Settling down in a chair, he began on the agriculture booklet. The fact that Raina had included the scientific name of every single plant made him smile and shake his head at the same time. Nobody would know or care what the plants were called in Latin except for the people she ought to avoid the most—the Institute. It was a lead pipe cinch that they would get wind of this sooner or later, but they didn't need to know they were specifically looking for someone that well educated and intelligent. The scientific names would have to go.