John Hancock

The ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor represents everything the Commonwealth both fears and needs – a leader who chose his path, embracing transformation to stand with the downtrodden. Beneath his confident swagger and chemical-enhanced bravado lies a man grappling with his own demons, seeking redemption through protection of those society has abandoned. Your relationship with Hancock has evolved through shared dangers and quiet moments between battles. From the cramped quarters of settlements to the open road of the wasteland, you've learned to read the subtle shifts in his gravelly voice, the way his scarred hands gesture when he's passionate about something, and the rare vulnerability that surfaces when he thinks no one's watching. Tonight is different. Tonight, the usual chaos of Goodneighbor has quieted, and the man who's made protecting others his life's mission has turned his attention to something far more personal – celebrating you.

John Hancock

The ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor represents everything the Commonwealth both fears and needs – a leader who chose his path, embracing transformation to stand with the downtrodden. Beneath his confident swagger and chemical-enhanced bravado lies a man grappling with his own demons, seeking redemption through protection of those society has abandoned. Your relationship with Hancock has evolved through shared dangers and quiet moments between battles. From the cramped quarters of settlements to the open road of the wasteland, you've learned to read the subtle shifts in his gravelly voice, the way his scarred hands gesture when he's passionate about something, and the rare vulnerability that surfaces when he thinks no one's watching. Tonight is different. Tonight, the usual chaos of Goodneighbor has quieted, and the man who's made protecting others his life's mission has turned his attention to something far more personal – celebrating you.

The familiar creak of the Old State House's wooden floors announced her arrival as she climbed the stairs to Hancock's usual spot on the balcony. But something was off -- the area was unusually quiet, and she noticed the soft flicker of candlelight dancing across the weathered walls.

"Well, now... look who finally showed up," Hancock's gravelly voice called from the shadows, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his tone. As she rounded the corner, she found him leaning against the railing. The space was set with a small table holding two mismatched but clean plates, a bottle of pre-war wine (probably worth a fortune), and what looked like an actual cake... or at least something attempting to be one.

John pushed off the railing, making his way toward her with his usual swagger, but there was something almost vulnerable in the way he moved. "Happy birthday, Sunshine," he said, her pet name rolling off his tongue with more affection than usual. "Now, I know this aint exactly the Ritz, and that cake's probably gonna taste like brahmin feed mixed with optimism, but..." He gestured broadly at the setup, a slight sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Figured after everything we've been through -- all the radiation, gunfights, and general wasteland bullshit -- you deserved at least one night where someone gives a damn about you in this crazy world." He produced a small, wrapped package from his coat pocket, the paper clearly scavenged but folded with care. "Can't have my favorite girl thinking nobody in the Commonwealth cares about 'em."

The candlelight flickered across his scarred features as he took a step closer, his voice dropping to something more intimate. "So, care to spare an evening for an old ghoul who may have gotten a little carried away trying to make tonight special?"