RP blog for an independent New Vegas OC. Nigel Hughes is a White Glove who always seems to wear a pleasant smile on his face. Icon by the super-cool mod of stumblinghost!
((With me cleaning up some loose ends, one of the things that’s bothered me is never getting to the end of Amber and Nigel’s character arcs.
This is something I wrote with that in mind, but there are a lot of other ways it could shake out. A slightly different take on this was planned at one point, but I never got to it. If there’s anything that anyone wants to know about what went down between them, I’d be happy to clear any of that up!
For now, though, have a drabble. I like to imagine that a few years have passed between where they’re at now and this story.))
The first words out of Nigel’s mouth were “you grew your hair back out.” After a moment’s pause, he tilted his face out of sight, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he quietly added, “I like the blonde.”
“Nigel...” Amber pursed her lips together into a thin line. She reached out, then seemed to think better of it; her fingers curled together tightly and she pressed a loose fist to her chest. “Is that really all you have to say to me? After all this time?”
“I thought I’d lead with something unlikely to start another fight.” Nigel shook his head. “What more do you want out of me? For me to say that I’ve missed you? Because rest assured, I have. Every day” His breath hitched uncharacteristically in the back of his throat. “You’ve grown up so much while I wasn’t looking. I...hardly recognized you.”
She let out a snort and reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah? Well, I barely recognize you too, Mr. Bigshot. You’ve really climbed the ladder around here.”
“...you might not believe me, given my track record, but I did it for you.” Nigel smiled wearily.
Amber’s face darkened and her eyebrows furrowed together. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true, though. I...wanted to keep my promise. For what it was worth.” He tripped over the words, “T-to make up for not doing so before. Amber...please, you have to believe me, I’ve been so, so sorry about everything...”
“That doesn’t make up for what you did and you know it!” Amber took an angry step forward. “Fuck your apologies! I asked you to do the right thing for once in your life, just once, and you refused! Even to save lives--”
“No...no, you’re right. I’ve been a bad person. The worst.” Nigel turned his face away and brought his hand up to push his glasses aside. “And you’re right to hate me for it. I’ve hurt a lot of people, and I’ve never regretted anything more than the fact that one of them was you.”
“Nigel...stop. Just stop.” Amber reached up and grabbed his arm lightly. He was shaking. She took a step around him and looked up, frowning.
He pulled his hand away and discreetly rubbed at the corner of his eye again, knocking his glasses askew.
“You’re right. You’ve done bad things, and I’m still angry about it.” Amber raised a hand to cut him off when he opened his mouth to reply. “But I’m not here to pick a fight. I’m here so we can talk about this and move on, because holy shit. I’m not going to stay away from my family forever, no matter how fucked up it is. We can work on this if you can promise to actually be honest with me.”
A slow, steady smile twitched across Nigel’s face and he nodded. Surprisingly, Amber found herself returning it.
Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. If you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own! When you’re done, tag 15 other people to do the same!
basics
» name: Nigel
» age: 28
» birthday: October 30th
» species: Human
» gender/sex: Male
» orientation: Bisexual
» profession: Negotiator/liaison for the Gourmand. He mostly deals as an intermediary for overseeing stock and making sure they don’t get screwed over on pricing by intimidating, charming, or threatening others as need be.
physical aspects
» hair: Naturally messy and black, but he usually slicks it back and keeps it neat and professional.
» eyes: bam
» skin: Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale as shiiiiiit
» height: 5′3″
family
» siblings: Second oldest of nine siblings. The named ones are Amber, Nathan, Ada, and Nickie.
» parents: Dead to him forever, but still actually alive somewhere. They abandoned their kids when Amber was very young. Nigel doesn’t like to acknowledge that they’re still around.
» grandparents: None that they’re aware of.
» other relatives: Nigel thinks of Alma and Hope as honorary siblings.
» pets: None, but I want you to take a moment to imagine Nigel with a cat. He has two in modern AU. They’re named Herman Mewville and Nathaniel Pawthorne.
skills
» physical prowess: INCREDIBLY POOR. He’s a scrawny nerd with wimpy noodle arms and you could absolutely take him in a fight unless he somehow got the drop on you.
» abilities: Manipulative, observant, intelligent, and quick to plan on his feet. He’s also fantastic at deflecting attention away from himself and coming off as harmless..
» hobbies: Reading and writing.
traits
—— positive ——
Loyal, willing to go to extremes to protect loved ones, smart, sometimes surprisingly caring, loves his family and friends fiercely.
——- negative ——-
Manipulative, selfish, neurotic, constant need for control and validation, low self-esteem, extremely self-loathing and very aware he’s a bad person who has done and will continue to do awful things.
likes
» colors: Dark purples and blues.
» smells: Cologne, perfume, sweets cooking, fresh night air.
» foods: Oh my god he has a sweet tooth and hides it well
» drinks: Teas
» alcoholic beverages: Wine
miscellaneous
» smokes?: Yes, but not often. He’s tried to quit before and has just settled for hiding it well now.
» drugs?: No
» driver’s license?: Fallout Nigel has never even touched a car before, but he’d be a very careful driver in modern AU.
» ever been arrested?: No, but he really should have been for some of the stunts he’s pulled.
Oh well, shit, okay then. Good thing he hasn’t laid down the flirting too much. It’s rather easy for Amir to forget that most people, who haven’t lost their families, still remain in touch with them.
“Haha, tedious? You White Gloves never take the polite pants off. It sucked, you can admit it.” Amir chuckles, kicking a piece of rubbish from his path as they walk down the side walk. “I’m glad too. Smartest decision I ever made, honestly.”
He turns, ready to shoot Nigel a shit eating grin, when the other pants him on the arm and offers to loan him books. More than likely an offer to coax some favor from him. Not unlike what he’s been doing with his compliments. But, well, that’s alright too. The thought of enjoying something once forbidden to him sounds awfully appealing.
“Aw, you’d do that for me Nigel?” Amir grins more sweetly, swatting the other’s arm in a purposeful display of affection. Their walking has led them to the shop now, and so he has to take a moment to unlock the door. Which takes a while, given there’s multiple locks to undo. Can’t be too careful. “I’ll be extra careful with ‘em. Think I’d enjoy science fiction but whatever, you’re the expert.”
He holds the unlocked door open for his guest before trailing after him. He switches the light on so they can see what’s in front of them, but quickly ushers Nigel to the back of the shop before he can examine the wares too much.
Contrasting with the decadent atmosphere of his store, Amir’s living quarters are surprisingly quaint. An all-purpose room, neat and tidy, and a storage room next door that hosts boxes of supplies. At the center of the supplies, lying on the floor, is the Power Armor. The suit is worn from age and use, but clean and polished. Amir gazes over it with clear affection.
“Beautiful, ain’t it?”
“Ah, yes!” Nigel claps his hands together excitedly. “I’m actually the second oldest of nine siblings. I spend most of my free time helping to care for my younger brothers and sisters.”
He presses a hand to his cheek and smiles, shaking his head. His face flushes a bit from that swat to the arm, but he presses on and tries to ignore it. “Ahaha. well. To put it in your own terms, I am sorry to hear how much the Brotherhood sucked. At least you’ve found yourself in more...civilized surroundings since then. I’d be more than happy to share literature with you.”
Once they reach the door to the shop, Nigel holds up a hand by the frame of his glasses discreetly as he walks. Just being here is enough to make him want to cover his face and hide for a week, but it wouldn’t do to retreat from a meeting with a new acquaintance. Part of him wants to stare, to try and figure out what each product does, but that would be worse.
Curse his good manners.
Still. The worst is over soon, and they’re in the back of the shop. Nigel drops his hand and folds it over his chest, eyes falling on the power armor approvingly. He gives it a once-over and glances away to beam up at Amir, clearly impressed. “Goodness. Wow. It most definitely is.”
The inventories have been off lately, and Nigel can’t even bring himself to act feign disinterest or surprise anymore. No one knew the Gourmand’s stock better than he did, after all, and he could have recited how many pounds of brahmin meat they should have been shipped by heart if he’d been so inclined.
I mean, he did have some warning to look in the first place, but still. It was so simple a child could have found it.
Really, though, he supposed that part of him was almost impressed. Whoever had fussed with these numbers–and he could think of a great many in the White Glove Society who might have–hadn’t bothered to even pretend to cover their tracks anymore. Whether you called it gumption or stupidity, there was something to be said for having that much faith in your own infallibility to presume your plans would always be unimpeded.
Nigel pushed himself to his feet and nudged his desk chair out of the way. The only sound in his office was the scraping of its legs on the tiled floor. He stood there silently for a moment deep in thought, hands splayed across his desk, as he weighed his options.
Perhaps what Amber would have termed the right thing was what was the best course of action. If only because he had some forgiveness to earn back from her over this whole ordeal.
He walked briskly for his door and opened it a crack, glancing down both sides of the hallway to make absolutely certain no one had spotted him. Working late nights had its benefits; no one was awake to bother him. That accomplished, he smiled to himself and began a leisurely stroll towards the kitchens.
Philippe would be off duty by now. In fact, the kitchens were mercifully empty when he arrived. The sound of Nigel’s dress shoes tapping on the floor were the only things he could hear. He tilted his mask down over his face almost as an afterthought as he approached the freezer. He curled his fingers over the door handle, took a deep breath, and opened it in one fluid motion.
The boy curled up on the floor shivering looked somewhat familiar, even without getting a clear look at his face. There would be time to puzzle over that later; for now, the important thing was to formulate a clear plan on his departure without arousing suspicion and with a chance to ask him some very important questions.
After all, the hero deserved a reward for such things. What a novel concept that was–not being the monster of the story. It was almost laughable to think of himself doing something others might consider decent.
Nigel steeled himself carefully with a smile and prepared for an act that would literally make or break his future.
“Ahaha, well, I think it’s really quite sweet that you take care of your father! I’ve been taking care of my own family for…goodness, I can’t even remember how long…certainly when I was younger than you.”
Nigel smiled and Tasia felt a faint blush creep into his cheeks as he giggled at the compliment.
nico/gio gio talks about his feelings au and ivan/nigel modern au :^)
“Niiiiiiiiiiiiicoooo, I’m a terrible person and I need…I need to stop doing this, don’t I, I need to stop doing whatever ever it is that keeps hurting everyone I love without even meaning to.”
Gio buried his head in his arms and let out a muffled sob as he muttered something incomprehensible; Nico nudged his half-empty glass out of his reach and patted his back sympathetically. What else was there to do now, but to let him get everything he’d been bottling up out?
—–
“Ahaha, I’m…ah…well, I mean, oh goodness I’m so sorry, I’m just so bad at this…” Nigel rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous smile and tried to ignore the flush creeping up his face, finding himself suddenly unable to make himself meet Ivan’s eyes.
Ivan quirked a confused eyebrow and shrugged, reaching down to gently take the shorter man’s hand in his own.
“There, now. You’re all set.” Nigel clucked his tongue and gave Amber’s long black hair a pat once the final pin was in. She turned around to face him, eyebrows furrowed together, as he beamed at his handwork. “I knew that Ada’s old dress would fit. It’s a shame you’ll have your mask on. You’d have been the prettiest girl at the dinner party.”
“Do we really have to go to this stupid thing?” Amber let out a huff and crossed her arms. “All these ‘family dinners’ are ridiculous and…and…pretentious.” She nearly spat the word. “I’d rather go to the Tops, or just eat up here.”
“Now, now. It’ll be quick and painless. I promise you that.” Nigel smiled sympathetically. “You know that I have to be there. I just got promoted. I can’t seem to be ungrateful, not if–”
“Not if you want job securityyyyy.” Amber finished the last of the sentence with a scowl. She slid off her chair and stretched. “I know the whole spiel already. It’s not like they’re going to kick you out on your ass or something if we all skip a few stuffy parties.”
“Language, Amber. Please.” Nigel sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “And there’s more to it than, as you call it, skipping out. My job’s safe here, but that’s something that is put into jeopardy every time I seem uninterested in the Society’s goings on. It’s a…delicate balance.”
Amber shot him a sideways look. “So what? If they fire you, we go somewhere else. Or something. There’s a whole, big world out there. The Strip isn’t exactly the center of the universe.”
“But it may as well be.” Nigel rubbed the back of his neck. “The world you’re talking about is a lot…well, ah…crueler than you seem to want to give it credit for. You don’t remember. You were too young.”
“It can’t be that bad if Nathan’s made it out there.”
Nigel’s face hardened just a bit. “…you know what? I don’t have time to argue this with you. Please go find your mask. We’re expected downstairs in fifteen minutes and I don’t want to be late again.”
Amber bristled, hands clutching into fists. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not done talk–”
“Language, young lady. As I said, you have fifteen minutes.” Nigel held up a hand. “And we can discuss this later when we don’t have somewhere to be. Unless you want to consider yourself grounded.”
Oh, well, that’s a tremendous disappointment. Amir was genuinely excited at the thought of them sharing that in common. But, well, he supposes it’s not that important. Nigel isn’t an imbecile at least, though clearly guillable. And he still wants to see the suit.
“Well you know, ain’t nothing wrong with just enjoying shit for the sake of enjoyin’ it you know?” Amir grins as he puts down the caps for their bill and a rather ungenerous tip. Wine before and during dinner has left his tongue too lose to care about swearing anymore. “Back in the Brotherhood they make sure ya don’t learn anything that can’t be applied. Everyone gets educated, gets a job, gets to work for the preservation of humanity. For the Brotherhood~”
Amir says with sneering sarcasm as he pulls up from his seat and waits for the other to join before heading out of the Gourmand.
“We weren’t encouraged to pleasure read. So, uh, fiction ain’t my well of knowledge.” Which is a shame, since he sure loves to hear himself talk. “What’s your favorites? Maybe I’ve heard the titles.”
“That’s very true. And living on the Strip has given me the luxury of some more free time to enjoy my hobbies than I would have been afforded otherwise...” Nigel smiled and tilted his head a bit as he stood up himself. “Not to say that work and family obligations doesn’t keep me inordinately busy, but...well. What’s life without a little fun in it?”
Nigel presses a hand to his cheek and schools his face into a look of surprise and concern. “Goodness! Well, the Brotherhood certainly sounds...tedious. I’m glad that you managed to make your way here to us, instead. I can’t imagine life without my books.”
He reaches out to pat Amir’s arm sympathetically. “Perhaps I can do one better than that and lend you a few to read sometime? Now that you’re your own man and can do whatever you want. That way, we could discuss them properly.”
Okay so, Amir probably shouldn’t laugh at a guy he’s trying to brown nose, but Nigel’s nervous chuckle gets a bemused one out of him. How anyone can be so prudish in the capital of sin is beyond him. But that’s fine, he’s not here to make the other uncomfortable. He leans back in his seat and throws a casual hand wave at him.
“You gloves really are the prim and proper types, ain’t cha? My bad–I mean, I’m sorry.You get use to talkin’ casual about that kinda thing when you’re me.” Hopefully, whatever distaste Nigel has for his business won’t be enough to stop him from coming. “How ‘bout you and I enjoy dinner, and you can decide if you’re up for it? I’ll treat ya.”
—
Holy shit. A treat doesn’t begin to describe what Amir just consumed. The salesman lounges happily in his chair, feeling like he might never move from it. If the steak is always this delicious, he almost wouldn’t care if the rumors were true. But of course they’re not.
“Soooo… How’re you feeling over there, Nigel? Up for an adventure?” He wonders if the shorter man is going to get all flustered again. “Honestly, I don’t meet a lot of people who give a shit about robotics these days. You actually surprised me sayin’ you’ve read up on it. No offense, just doesn’t seem much a White Glovething.”
Nigel can’t help but feel a sense of pride over how well he’s handled this entire encounter. There have been moments Amir’s flustered him--god, he wishes he’d just stop talking about his shop--but he still managed to suss out what the other man had wanted and impressed him while still letting it seem like the merchant had been the one to drive the conversation. All in all, there are messier ways to end a meeting.
“Ah...perhaps. I will admit I am curious to see the armor.” He smiles and reaches up to adjust his glasses, letting out another chuckle and glancing to the side as he tries not to let himself recall exactly where this adventure of theirs will take place. At least he’s not as flushed as he was earlier this time.
His eyes flicker back up to meet Amir’s and he lets his smile soften somewhat. “Oh, well, I can’t say I’m all that well-read on the subject. I have a sister who puts me to shame. I’m afraid I’m just enough of a bookworm that I’ve read...well...just about anything I can can get my hands on, really. My favorites are honestly fiction, but I’m hardly going to put a book down if it happens to be instructional. I just wish I was better at applying some of that knowledge.”
“Yeah you bet, s’like a completely different world in there.”
A world he was, you know, unceremoniously banished from. A detail he’s sure Nigel won’t mind if he leaves out.
“But I spent a lil’ time in New Reno ‘fore comin’ here, so it wasn’t too bad. Believe it or not that place is even crazier than the Strip. All the vice and glamor without those neat Securitrons keepin’ things tidy. But I was ready for it. The Brotherhoodwas a little hindering for my tastes.”
Thankfully to eveyone within hearing proximity of Amir, the salesman’s rambling tapers off as he mulls over his thoughts.
“You know, I actually came by the Luxe to finally try your fine cuisine. Sooooo how about we continue this lil’ chit chat over dinner? And after…. I'll show you my armor. Hell, I’ll even let you try it on if you want! You’d love it! There ain’t a feelin’ like it in the world, Nigel. Bein’ encased by steel and raw energy…”
He shudders thinking And he’ll have no idea how to operate it, so Amir is far from worried about it being snatched.
“… Course, that’s if you don’t mind coming back to my shop. I keep it locked in the back.” Still smirking, Amir leans in a little closer, studying Nigel with the most innocent look he can muster. He’s not awful to look at, scrawny as he is. “I won’t tell a soul. We practice confidentiality at the Emporium, for customers and visitors~”
As he listens, Nigel presses an idle hand to his cheek again and continues to smile pleasantly, occasionally letting out a sound of agreement or a sound of surprise as Amir’s story warrants.
And...ah. There it is. Likely what Amir wanted from him from the beginning. As tempted as he is to draw out the idea of dinner just to see what would happen, there is something to be said for coming off as gullible. It suits him, really. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hungry and curious about seeing that armor. Who wouldn’t be, really?
“Hm, well, I am a bit peckish myself. I didn’t really have time to take much of a break today...”
But then Amir’s leaning in, and that’s just enough to make Nigel instinctively lean back. And of course he just has to imply what his shop is again. Nigel isn’t even sure why he’s surprised. He gives a nervous little laugh that he hates and flushes again. He takes another small sip of wine to try and hide it. “Ahaha, w-well, that...I, I mean, I do want to see it. The armor, I-I mean. Maybe.”
Well, he took the news better than Amir suspected he might. Didn’t tell him to fuck off or nothing! He looks plenty embarrassed though.Aw.
“Come on, I’m sure it’s plenty interesting, Nigel.”
Considering the certain things people say about White Gloves, and especially about those from the beginning. And to think one of them oversees every bite of meat swallowed in their ritzy restaurant. That’s just funny. Amir has to exert a good amount of self control not to let out a snicker.
“And… yeah, I’m pretty good with it. Use to be my specialty.” There’s a hint of longing in the salesman tone, and a frustrated furrowed in his brow. That was before he learned about caps, and the way people spend them to satisfy their vice. He doesn’t let himself get too caught up in those thoughts, though. “Buuuut that was back when caps didn’t matter. Caps weren’t a thing. Now they really matter, you know? But I grew up in the Brotherhood of Steel in Hidden Valley. M’sure you’ve heard of us.”
He throws Nigel a wink as he orders another martini.
“But I bet you’ve never met one of us. If you like robotics you outta see the armor.”
Nigel takes another small sip of wine and smiles. Honestly, he would rather keep Amir talking about his own interests. Because as nice as the compliments are, he has to remind himself they’re likely as empty as they are distracting.
No sense letting himself get hung up on them.
He presses a hand to his cheek and widens his eyes just a bit. “Oh my! Coming to the Strip must have been quite the adjustment for you. And no, you’re right, I’ve never met anyone from the Brotherhood before. That sounds far more interesting than where I grew up.”
Well. That one’s not much of a lie, really. It really does pique his curiosity. He downs the last of his wine and absentmindedly orders another, fully intending to drink this one more slowly.
“I’ve heard rumors about what the armor is like, of course. I’ve never had the opportunity to see it in person. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to actually wear it.” And...that one is a bit more of a little white lie, really. His best guess is that it must feel powerful.
Because Amir has already flagged the bartender’s attention, and quickly explains that the next beverage of Nigel’s choosing will be on his tab. That’s right, he’s got a tab, he’s a regular. Not some poor schmuck whose had to scrounge just to get on the Strip.
The White Glove might not care about such minute details, because he might not be a snobby asshole like Amir. He’s still going to take every opportunity to impress him.
And he might really need to, because now Nigel is inquiring about his business. Oh, well, maybe he should have waited on that one. Not everyone takes to what he does for a living the same way. And this bashful little man is a bit endearing, but could also be a prude. Nothing ventured, nothing gained he supposed.
“I… run an adult entertainment business by Vault 21. It’s eccentric, if we’re bein’ frank. S’not what I thought I’d be doin’ with my life. But the money is fantastic.” Amir polishes off his martini. “And it allows me to be creative, use my robotics background a little. Plenty to love about that.”
“And what ‘bout you, Nigel?” Amir tilts his empty glass towards him. “How’d you wind up in charge of… supply management? S’important job there. They wouldn’t put just anyone in charge of that.”
Nigel can’t help but smile from behind his wine glass as he raises it to his mouth to take a sip. It’s always a nice feeling to have someone scramble to impress him. It doesn’t happen nearly as often as he’d like. He can’t help but feel a little sense of pride in that.
So of course that meant that something just had to throw him for a slight loop. He nearly chokes on his drink when Amir mentions what he does for a living, but recovers as quickly as he can and rubs the back of his neck. Of all the jobs he could have listed, it just had to be something like that.
“Ahaha, well that’s an...interesting line of work.” He takes another sip of wine and tries to fight down the blush he can feel rising in his cheeks.
Luckily, there’s a better topic of conversation to seize on. “Ah, well, I can’t say it’s that interesting of a story, really. I’ve been with the White Gloves since the beginning.” He smiles and gives a little shrug. “I suppose Majorie felt I would be suited for the position, given the fact I’ve always been a bit of a people person. There’s a fair bit more paperwork than I’d like lately, but it does let me travel on occasion. I consider that a bonus.”
He tilts his own glass in Amir’s direction. “So, you’re good with robotics? That’s impressive. I never really had the head for them myself, even though I’ve read a few books on the subject. I always wished I understood more about them.”
[Somewhere, deep in the depths of his office, Nigel suddenly feels such intense pride in his baby sister that he has to put down his pen and rest his head in his hands for a while.]
Amir sucks a bit of pear juice off his thumb as he feigns interest in whatever it is this man is saying. Once he mentions that theyreceived a fresh shipment today, he no longer has to pretend. His smile widens as possibilities flash through his mind. If Nigel was sitting any closer he might see dollar signs in those eyes.
“Am I enjoying this? It’s untouchable. There ain’t a finer bar in the West, probably even the entire country.” The salesman takes a poised sip from the glass rim. “Shame you’re not interested in a martini, ‘cause I was just about to offer to buy you one. I mean it’s the least I can do. Your society makes this magic happen.”
And what better way to prove he’s a distinguished gentleman worthy of White Glove benefits than dropping caps on one?
“If you’re set on drinking wine, you can consider the second glass on me.” He takes another, more generous swig from his own, as he studies the small man up and down. “Amir Kapoor. Entrepreneur. Now, what can I call you?”
Nigel smiles and leans his cheek on his palm as he listens to Amir speak. He registers the wider smile when he mentions the shipment of pears, and his own stays fixed in place.
Ah. Between that and the flurry of compliments, this one certainly seems obvious in his intentions.
He reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair back into place and glances away in the most sheepish way he can manage. “Ahaha. I’m glad that you can appreciate this place for what it is.” He looks up again. “We’ve certainly put a lot of pride into making the Ultra-Luxe the best of...everything, really.”
“I wouldn’t say no to another drink after this one.” And he really wouldn’t on general principle. Manners, at all. But drinking all of one may not be wise, and it may be a good idea to remain clear-headed around Amir. Nigel offers him a hand to shake. “Nigel Hughes. Gourmand. I handle relations with our suppliers. What sort of entrepreneur are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
