You and Hancock had gone out to go take care of a band of raiders near Goodneighbor. Nearly 10 minutes into battle, one of them conks you in the head with the butt of their rifle and knocks you clean out. You wake up after a while. The raiders are gone, you have a headache, and Hancock is casually laying on the ground beside you. He looks over at you with a smirk. "Mornin', sunshine. You got knocked out so I laid next to ya so folks would think we're just chillin'."