In an old airship plodding slowly across the sky, still advertising some carnival in Virginia in faded paint where it doesn't now say FLYING TRADER - GUNS AMMO MEDS JUNK CAPS - RADIO 101.3, a scruffy and tired-looking man peers over his map. High above the dangers of the wasteland, the raiders, ghouls, mutants, lunatics, mutated wildlife, and miscellaneous other dangers, staring down in relative safety.

Note to self: Don't try and scavenge near Jefferson Memorial. He hasn't been to Washington proper in a while. Rivet City is still there, that's good. Somewhere near there could be his first stop.

(He surveys places with his telescope and tries to figure out if the Brotherhood of Steel is in the area. They're some of the only ones who could shoot him down if they felt like it, and the ones who might decide they felt like it.)

The surrounds of Rivet City are as desolate as usual, and nothing (for once) fires at him. 

There is a buzz on the radio, someone from the city is hailing him.

Adjust antenna and, "Flying trader here. Guns ammo meds junk caps and reasonable rates. Good morning."

"Welcome back. This is Harkin, head of Rivet City security, informing you that you are welcome to land at the entrance. Will you be requiring additional security at this point?"

"Oh, you guys remember me after all this time! How kind. If you don't mind me deploying turrets and Mr. Gutsys pointing down the approach, I won't be needing additional security."

"Not a problem. Just remember the distance you need to keep, yadda yadda. You know the drill."

The radio cuts off.

He stretches, eats something that is meat and he doesn't want to know beyond that, and then broadcasts on a general line that he's landing at Rivet City in 6 hours and will stay until midnight. Today's specials are (relatively) unmutated potatoes all the way from North Dakota and a special formulation of Jet that should last slightly longer.

If he pays attention below, the bridge to Rivet City swings across to the wrecked ship, to welcome the group of people massing at the entrance.

Probably something going on down there. He doesn't care: More customers when he does land. He'll just float there for now, though, tidying up and organizing the storefront part of his ship.

The mass of people makes their way across the bridge, all noticeably human, and all looking like traders. They look expectantly at Nick's zeppelin, but none are carrying weapons.

Harkin made sure of that.

He lands at appointed time and place. He has the ship drop turrets and robots, looking down away from Rivet City, and puts on that politely bored trader look that seems to work so well.

He does, indeed, have guns, ammo, meds, junk, and caps.

The traders from Rivet City swarm him, but all have good quality stock to sell themselves.

Nick stands to make a few caps today.

How productive. He will buy up some of their stuff - having lots of variety is how you get ahead as a trader, in his opinion. He'll also pay a few caps for random junk and spent ammo, especially spent energy weapon ammo, if anyone brings him those.

The day goes on, the crowd thinning bit by bit. Towards sunset, two things happen. 

Two men, one balding and in a suit, charge across the bridge to Rivet City, the suited one looking ready to murder. 

The other is a ghoul appears, seemingly holding someone up. 

The man does not look well.

A ghoul. (Does he recognize that ghoul?)

Harkin will no doubt handle the suits. Anyway, he shouts to the other pair, "You look like you're in the market for stimpaks! Or perhaps a lift to the local doctor?"

The man mutters something. 

The ghoul groans. “Yes, I know, you have to get to Madison, but you’re barely conscious as it is! One second isn’t going to make Madison any less inside Rivet City.”

To Nick: “Stimpak would be great, thanks.” She digs around in her pocket to produce some caps. 

"Fifteen each. Twelve if you buy ten or more." He types something on a terminal in his shop and a robot picks up a stimpak and starts floating over.

“Cheers.”

She takes one stimpak, gives the robot the amount without haggling, and promptly stabs it into the man’s shoulder. 

“Agh! ...you’re supposed to clean the area first.”

“And you weren’t supposed to run off and get shot. We don’t always get what we want.” 

She discards the empty syringe, pulls James back up, and the two keep heading towards Rivet City. 

“Thanks Nick! See you around sometime,” she calls back to the trader. 

"So I do know you. From somewhere."

...Well, he has Mr. Inventory pick up the empty syringe, since she clearly doesn't want it anymore. He can clean and refill it later.