abstracts | Alternative Methods.

A guy with a taste for discretion. Looks like Neil has his work cut out for him. "Geez. Thanks, Alex," he complains, his shoulders slumping. "The NCR doesn't have anything against the Followers. Why did he need to go incognito?"

Arcade had wondered as well. Alex had provided the answer. "Rivas had found out something about HELIOS One that the NCR had missed. Why the Brotherhood of Steel had tried to hold on so tightly to the place."

They approach the door to the main diagnostic room then, and Arcade slants his eyes to Neil. "But I can tell you the rest outside. Or you can ask Alex. You should probably focus on your task."

Something that good ol' BOS held onto for dear life, huh? Pre-War tech, obviously, but hell if Neil had any fucking idea as to what that was. Solar power alone just isn't enough for that group. (Liberty Prime, anyone?) Fuck, this mystery's getting more and more intriguing.

Neil groans in pure disappointment, his feet carrying him toward the person he presumed to be Ignacio Rivas. The man's closer to Alex and Arcade's age group and as his name would suggest, decidedly Hispanic. Again, the thought crosses his mind on how Alex knew that he's into other men.

"Hey," Neil greets. "Are you Ignacio Rivas, by chance?"

Edited 2017-04-03 02:26 (UTC)

Here Neil goes, getting ahead of himself. "Yes, this is the esteemed Ignascio Rivas, our genius technician and personal hermit."

Rivas only gives Arcade a flat look. "Gannon."

Arcade smiles brightly, entirely false. "Rivas. Neil here had a question for you. Not related to your task. But I'm sure he's interested in hearing about it, if you're up for some explaining. He's from way back east, in DC. Not a lot of tech out there for a budding science aficionado."

Neil might as well let Arcade take the reins introducing everyone as (1) Arcade has status in the Followers of the Apocalypse, and (2) the Lone Wanderer's shit at conversations that require finesse. Sure, he has a kind of charm (or something), but his social niceties consist of blunt truth and pure manipulation. Neither of these are things folks in the Mojave Wasteland are keen toward.

At the end of the day, however, this is his quest. He might as well try not to overthink it (for once). "Nice to meet you," Neil says. "Sorry 'bout the interruption. Have a bit of a dilemma, and a friend referred me to you."

Edited 2017-04-03 02:53 (UTC)

"A friend, huh," Ignascio comments, a look of not amused on his face. "I don't think I'm close enough to anyone for them to refer someone to me."

He looks suspiciously at Arcade, enough for the other to put his hands up. "No, not me." But hell if he's outting Alex. That's Neil's job. "Ask him."

"All right," he replies, not missing a beat. He looks to Neil. "I'm asking you."

Of course, Arcade would be right in the whole distrusting people thing. Not that Neil can blame him. He's told people to fuck off for lesser trespasses.

"...Alex," he answers, unable to keep the strain off of his voice. "...Seattle Geer. The one I think people call the Courier."

Ignascio's expression, which hasn't changed in the entire introduction, flashes surprise. And something close to anticipation.

Hmm, Arcade thinks.

"Alex did? Is he here as well?"

...Ah, Arcade thinks.

Despite using the exact same tone as he already was, Rivas had given himself away to Arcade. The expression along with the fact that nearly no one in this wasteland called Alex by his first name. Especially someone like Rivas, who was prone to distancing via using last names.

This might be problematic. "That he did. Couldn't make it, though. Thus I am here in his stead."

Rivas returns to his previous expression. "How charming."

Oh. That can't be a mistake. He would have missed the meaning just months ago, but now, after everything that happened in Vault 7, after everything that transpired this past year, Neil Park understands what that expression means.

Interest. Pure and simple. Likely romantic interest, which holds sense. Alex Seattle Geer is an extraordinary guy. Anyone, especially a guy who has had more than a surface interaction, would want that kind of attention. That bond.

Suddenly--illogically--Neil feels like a big freaking asshole. Like he's keeping something good and wholesome all to himself, when there are better guys, good guys, who deserve more. Ignascio Rivas also worked with Alex; he helped further those intricate plans while Neil... Neil Park just pitched fits and kept the Courier away from his beloved Mojave.

Shit.

He wants to run away. Thinks about it for a second. He might have actually made his escape, if the Lone Wanderer hadn't committed himself to completing every quest. There isn't a choice right now to stop. He can only continue. Move the fuck along.

Neil breathes in a shuddered breath as the others have their small exchange, willing himself to calm. "He sends his regards, though," he interjects, voice even. "I heard you guys worked together during his travels."

Rivas' attention moves from Arcade back to Neil, and he hopes to god this isn't going to go sour. Alex is such an asshole. Did he know that Ignascio had the hots for him and still sent his boyfriend over? Or was he really that fucking dumb?

...Probably the latter.

Rivas loses a bit of the defensive air. "I'm surprised he mentioned me at all to be honest. I didn't do anything other than point him in the right direction. He did all the work. I just picked up the pieces."

The weight in his chest lightens at the words, and Neil finds himself thinking back. Back, of course, to the vault of forced truths. Alex had mentioned that Helios One had been the starting point for him, for a choice to take shape. The inspiration had come from someone's words--someone Neil now knows to be the quiet man in front of him.

He blinks once. Makes his own choice. "What you told him," Neil starts, "made him realize the truth of things. I'm sure he's grateful to you for your direction."

Arcade and Ignascio give the same expression to Neil. This is obviously something not common knowledge.

"The truth of things?" Rivas echoes. "What was it that he attributes to me saying?"

Ah. This might give away something that Alex doesn't want out, but the guy deserves to know that he made a difference.

"That NCR, Caesar's Legion-- They would use this place for their own means." For war. "But he had the possibility to do something else." Where neither NCR, Legion, nor House could.

Edited 2017-04-03 04:21 (UTC)

Ah, that--

The comprehension shows in Rivas' eyes, and he shifts his gaze down, remembering. Alex, who had approached him seemingly out of curiosity, had been Rivas' last hope. Fantastic, idiot savant that he was, was getting a little too close and the NCR wanted answers. Rivas had cajoled Alex to go to the tower, and Alex had asked why. Why he was being trusted with this when he could just fuck everything up.

"Because the possibility exists you might do anything else, you're the only choice I have."

He remembers saying that. Because his hopes had come to complete fruition. Because this singular man had done what thousands of other had not or would not--make the right choice. Alex Seattle Geer, to Ignascio Rivas, represented the epitome of the better man. And the fact that Alex remembered him, what he said, enough to repeat it and attribute it to some of his own acts....

He swallows, then looks back, nodding curtly, eyes softer. "...It means a lot to me, you telling me that. I'll help you."

There's comprehension in Rivas. There's relief in Neil. The youngest of the three nods once, acknowledging the unsaid and the spoken.

Then remembers the utter absurdity of the "help" he requires. He grimaces. Hopes this won't sour one's views. "This will sound like a crazy man's request, but..."

He trails off, body bracing itself for the possible backlash. "I'm looking for alternatives," Neil continues. "Anything that's not what folks normally think of when it comes to a male having...relations with a male. If you, um, catch my drift."

God, just. Kill him now. Please.

. . . . . .

Rivas blinks, and Arcade epically tries not to burst out laughing. Noticing this, Rivas jerks a thumb at Arcade. "Gannon can't help you?"

Rivas reacts as expected while Gannon looks like he's ready to laugh up a fucking storm. Good. Good for him.

Neil stiffens, wondering if he ever foresaw this predicament: asking someone with a crush on the Courier on how to have sex with the aforementioned Courier. "He did," he more or less mutters. "This request requires...more than one man's input."

Fucking hell, why is he even here?

Whatever restraint Neil has breaks at that thought. He finally flusters, and everything comes out in a rush. "Just. This is my very first relationship. And I'm getting really overwhelmed," he croaks. "I would normally try to read up on it, but there's barely any books on the subject. Then he insisted that I look you guys up. See if you had any alter--"

Shut up. Shut. Up. Bells whistle. His brain screams. Neil instantly freezes, mouth closing.

Edited 2017-04-03 05:12 (UTC)

Ignascio is starting to understand what's going on here. And a part of him isn't surprised at all. Even so, he would never be cruel to someone who is trying this hard for understanding.

"Gannon. Out," Rivas states, a finger at the door they came through.

"But I--"

"I'm not going to do anything, I just want to talk with him without a peanut gallery."

"Hey," Arcade protests. "You don't know the past couple of days I had."

"Did you stay up for two nights regulating the power to Goodsprings?"

"Well. No. But--"

"Then talk to me when you do. Neil." Arcade dismissed utterly, Ignascio heads for the side room, that he still thinks of as his private office. "This way."

Arcade gapes for a minute, then throws his hands up. "You might as well. Like I said, he's a good sort. I'll just wait outside. Again. At least there's no prostitutes this time...."

"Too much information," Rivas calls from the other room.

Something strange and unusual ensues between the two Followers, and Neil, still caught in his misery, only now realizes he's been called to a side room. Arcade states his intentions as the youngest finds himself walking toward the other room as directed.

"Yeah," he calls back blandly. "I'll see you in a bit."

The room is much the same, bland and featureless, a mattress against one side, a neat desk against the other. He stands in the middle of the room, arms folded, and feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

It makes him smile at Neil.

"So you love him, I take it."

...Crap. There's that sense of being an asshole again.

Neil stands awkwardly, feeling smaller than he actually is. "Yeah," he says quietly.

Rivas asks the important question, instead of just answering Neil's.

"What are you trying to get out of this? What is your main motive for asking people these questions? And don't say just so you can alternatives."

Oh. Oh, shit. Why that of all questions?

But the choice is already made. Since the moment he approached Arcade, Neil has locked himself into this comical, almost surreal misadventure of a lifetime. He inhales. Remembers a question for a question can be a fair trade.

"...I want to balance things," he says lowly. "Instead of just reacting passively, waiting for this...relationship to pass, to get old--" To die a wasteland's death. "--I'd rather make it grow. Do something for him, even as insane as...this."

Edited 2017-04-04 01:47 (UTC)

Rivas blinks at Neil. "You don't think you're already doing something for your partner?" How interesting. "You don't seem the type to leech off of another."

Neil smiles, the expression mirthless. It falls away after a beat. "I don't think I'm using him for money or anything," he gives. "There was just a lot of my personal crap he had to wade through in the past year. Now everything between us seems so...out of whack."

Good. Better than it was before, Neil would say. Yet everything remains out of equilibrium, and he needs to do something about that. Wants to do something.

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