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Nora closed her eyes, her head falling back against the plush wall of the booth. She sighed happily, sinking into the comfortable seat, enjoying the way Magnolia’s voice spread through the Third Rail like molasses.
The rules, regulations, and holier-than-thou attitude that permeated the Prydwen and her crew was growing thin. Over the last few weeks her weekends had been her own. Every Friday, as soon as she was off-duty, she’d sneak out of the airport and make her way to the only settlement in the Commonwealth without a Brotherhood presence.
Maxson’s orders had become notably more erratic and fascistic over the last few months and she was finding it increasingly difficult to justify her place within Brotherhood. She had only joined as a means to an end, to find a way into the Institute, to find Shaun. But now? It didn’t feel so simple. She was no longer sure that the ends would justify the means.
She felt the air shift around her and opened her eyes. Mayor Hancock leaned lazily against the wall, hands behind his back, his dark eyes locked to hers as a cigarette burned at the edge of his smile.
“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, flicking the cigarette with his tongue. Nora liked the Third Rail, dark and atmospheric, it rendered her anonymous. Or so she’d thought.
She narrowed her eyes in consideration. He was a dangerous man, that much had been made clear the first time she met him. Her stomach flipped as the memory of his knife sinking into Finn pushed its way into her mind.
“I could be convinced.” She raised her chin as a sensible voice hovering somewhere on the periphery of her mind urged caution. She pushed it away. The drink she’d been nursing had given her a gentle buzz and made her feel reckless. It felt like a big ‘Fuck you’ to the Brotherhood. Imagine Maxson’s face if he could see her flirting with a ghoul.
“Excellent.” He grinned wolfishly before revealing a pair of drinks from behind his back. He slid them onto the table as he slipped his narrow hips into the booth to sit next to her. The ice in the drinks tinkled gently against the glass. She felt a flutter of amusement as she eyed the pink concoction, her favourite drink, and not cheap either. So he was the observant type. Interesting.
“How very presumptuous of you.” She chided, surprised by the playful tone in her voice.
“Well, what can I say? like to think I’m good at readin’ people.” He drawled, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.
“Oh?” She cocked her eyebrow at him “Tell me, what am I thinking?” She challenged, her mind instantly filling with intrusive and scandalous imagery. She felt a sudden paranoid stab of panic at the idea that he might actually be able to read her mind. A languid smile spread across his scarred face. She tried to keep expression neutral as his dark eyes took her in, unabashedly travelling over the swell of her breasts. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth, smoke unfurling in grey coils that drifted lazily towards the ceiling.
“Nothin’ pure, Sunshine, I’m sure.” His raspy voice seemed to go right through her and under the table she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. Careful. She warned herself. A low hum of excitement settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Where’s your man?” He asked, making a show of looking around “Mr tall, dark, and handsome?”
“Who?” Nora asked, genuinely confused, her brow furrowing.
“Tin can with a crew-cut.”
“Oh! Paladin Danse?” Nora asked incredulously. Definitely not her man.
“Oh is that his name?” He narrowed his eyes playfully before stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. “He thinks I’m a bad man.” He said, his voice was low and dangerous. He shifted his body towards her, one arm on her chair back while his other hand slid under the table and settled on her knee.
“I’m sure he’s right.” She replied quietly, relieved that her voice didn’t waver. She was desperately trying to ignore the alarm bells that were ringing in her head accompanied by a series of great flashing warning lights urging her to stop. But she didn’t. She was grateful for the low lighting, aware of the heavy blush that bloomed at the feel of his skin against hers. His hand was hot, his grip firm and self-assured. His dark eyes bore into her, watching for her reaction. She willed herself not to look away. Fine, he wanted to flirt? Sure, she could flirt.
“You're pretty bold aren’t you?” She arched her eyebrow and her stomach flipped pleasantly “Where are your manners?”
He paused, considering the question, and she tried to ignore the heat of his body so close to hers.
“May not have good manners.” He conceded “But I’ve been practicin’ ‘please’.” His dark eyes dropped to her lips. Christ. She felt her breathing hitch.
“And how’s that working out for you?” She asked, praying that she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt.
“Why don’t you tell me tomorrow mornin’?” His smile was downright wicked. Sinful.
Nora swallowed audibly, the heavy implication shooting straight through her. Hancock’s hand slid up her thigh, the rough texture of his fingers dragging pleasantly against her soft skin.
“What about ‘my man’?” She tilted her head at him, ignoring the rushing sound in her ears as he squeezed her thigh.
“He ain’t here,” He leant in, his ruined lips almost touching the shell of her ear “But I am, ain’t I?”
Nora squeaked, drawing out a dark chuckle from the ghoul next to her. She felt as if her body was on fire, thrilled at the exhibition of his fingers under her dress.
“Shit,” He shuddered against her “Gotta say, I’ve been thinkin’ of you.”
“You have?” She asked, finding her voice. “Positive things, I hope.” She added coyly.
“Mm, positive.” He hummed, his hand trailing back down to her knee “Positively filthy.”
The alarms that had been ringing in her mind stepped up a gear into an urgent crescendo of warnings. She should stop it. She should push his hand away, get up, leave. She willed herself to move, but the other voice was louder. The one that wondered how he would feel pressed against her in the half-light of the bar. The one that wondered how that gravelly voice of his would sound whispering sweet nothings into her ear. The one that had haunted for weeks, calling to her at night and chasing her into the Third Rail weekend after weekend. A small hopeful noise escaped her lips.
“D’you have any idea how goddamn good you look in that dress?” He asked, his chest pressed against her arm.
“Imagine how good I look out of it.” She said, her voice low and sultry. A low gravelly noise emerged somewhere from his chest which shot through her. She was enjoying herself now. He made it easy, his flagrant and obvious interest made her feel reckless.
“I’ve been meaning to catch ya,” He paused, his mouth dangerously close to her neck. “I've come to realise that I’ve been slackin’ in my mayoral duties. I believe you’re owed a tour of the Old Statehouse.”
“Is that so?” She asked, face flushed “is it informative?”
“Very.” he quipped.
“Expensive?” she shot back, enjoying how easy it all felt.
“For you? On the house.” he replied smoothly. It was so tempting.
“When do you have availability?” it was like they were both reading from a script. Such an easy back and forth. She'd never felt anything quite like it, and a gentle flutter of butterflies started up in her abdomen.
“Hmm,” He pretended to think about it “how about right now?”
She paused, aware that she was on a precipice, one foot on firm ground and the other hovering over the drop. One wrong step could be her undoing.
“Tempting,” she conceded, “but unfortunately I’ll have to decline.”
Hancock’s wolfish grin widened, his eyes flashing.
“Another time, perhaps?” He asked.
Nora smiled and gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulder.
“Perhaps.”
Hancock squeezed her thigh one last time for good measure before slipping out of the booth. After all, there was always next weekend.