Spare Me | Fallout 4 John Hancock x FSS

Drugs, Liquor and Other Bad Decisions

"I will not be humiliated like that, little British robot-man," I managed to slur out a who sentence; I was mildly impressed with myself.

"I told ya, either order another drink or quit whinin'. I ain't here to talk to ya." The robot's accent was lightly cockney but drenched in annoyance.

I sneered at him and attempted to get up. I looked at my surroundings for the first time in... I have no idea. Several hours, most likely. It was dim in this bar, like most places in the commonwealth. "I miss the days 'a proper indoor lighting. And indoor toilets. Plumbing in general. Television. Hot showers," I groaned in yearning and feigned agony. A hot shower would be fantastic right about now.

I decided to make my way through the crowd of late-night bar patrons, popping some Mentats on my way to the exit stairs. As I threw my head back to pop the last one in the tin, I ran directly into a wall and went toppling down. However, the wall suddenly grew arms and held me up. What a nice wall, was my only thought. I steadied myself and looked at the arms. Then the person, not wall, attached to them. I sneered again, rolling my eyes. "What do you want Mr. Good Mayor?" I said with as much acid on my tongue as my intoxicated body could muster.

'Mr. Good Mayor' let go of me. "I think you're the one that ran into me, Sunshine." That stupid fucking smirk. I could just smack it off of him. "Excuse me?" Was that out loud? "Yeah, yeah it was." I paused, Was that out loud? Hancock burst out with his hearty, gruff laugh, "Alright, troublemaker, it's time to get you a bed to sleep in."

I attempted to sidestep him, but it felt more like I stumbled and swayed half a step to his right and then just bumped right into him again. "I don't need your help, Mr. Dictator." I thought about that word for a second and doubled over in laughter. I looked up at the mayor with humorous tears pricking my eyes, "Dick-tator, Han-cock," I choked back another laugh, "Now that shit's funny, isn't it?"

Hancock raised his brows, looked past me and seemed to be talking to the British sounding robot, "How much, Charlie?"

"Nonstop since 'bout 5 o'clock, eh," the robot answered. The mayor sighed and looked back to me.

"Look, Sunshine-"

I cut him off, "Jo."

He rolled his eyes so forcefully I thought he might lose one. "Look, Sunshine," he said again with spiteful emphasis, "You're not gonna go tumblin' through my streets just to end up face down in a puddle. I'm not gonna have the savior of the wasteland dead in Goodneighbor. The whole capital'd have my ass for it."

It was my turn to roll my eyes, "Psht, some savior."

"You can be glib and nihilistic in the morning." Hancock wrapped an arm behind my back and threw one of mine over his shoulders, "Let's go sober you up, some, huh?"

I thought about trying to fight out of his grasp but figured it would be futile. He didn't seem terrible strong but he was certainly fast. I had confidence I could still take him down, but certainly not tonight. It took 4 Stimpacks and damn near 2 bottles of unlabeled liquor to get my skin to start feeling like skin again. That mixed with the 2 tins of Mentats I took trying (and failing) to get White Chapel Charlie to even out my tab for free made for shitty reflexes, surely. Besides, he's right. People in the Capital Wasteland tend to really like me. If word got out that he tried to kill me while I was drunk in his town, people would definitely call for his head. With that guaranteeing my safety, I just nodded my head and pointed up the stairs leaving the bar, "Onward, steed!"