Things I should have already known about Nightingale, but had deeply repressed until reading Masquerades of Spring:
Jock, but not.
Terrible pain in the ass, and not in the sexy kind of way.
Looks too dam good. All the goddam time. In anything. Any situation. Like, is this an undercover mission or is this a modeling gig, Thomas? You can't just run around looking like that, have mercy, we are all just mere mortals here, oh wait... oh. Nevermind. Carry on then.