Hancock731
Lighters and Jet canisters flooded the coffee table. She bent over and held up two fingers under his exposed nasal cavity to make sure he was still breathing...oh, thank god! After the trip he experienced yesterday, she had to make sure that this one wouldn't be his last.
Every year, before the war, her mother would drag her to church for a Christmas Eve candlelight service. Since then, people didn't celebrate Christmas as often, much less enter a church without the intent of looting it. Imagine her surprise when she tip-toed down the steps of The Third Rail to find it completely pitch black and silent. With a questioning glance up at Ham, who didn't even bother turning around to face her, she cautiously continued down the stairs, when a light appeared at her right. Another step produced another flicker of light, and each step afterwards produced another, until the entire room was encased by small dots of light, fighting to escape thier lighters and revealing the awed faces of amused settlers and drifters.
As she entered the VIP lounge, a bright blast of fire flashed before her. Fahrenheit smirked from behind her flamethrower and to her right, at the center of the room, was Hancock, surrounded by lit candles. Her smile was blinding. It wasn't the same, no. It was much better.