[b]Jon - Baton Rouge - Jacob[/b]

Jon Evans was on Perkins, just below Highway Ten, when his radio started to life. It was Jackson. Or, well, "The Jackal" as he told people to call himself. Of the group of people Tremblay had rallied around himself before treking into Baton Rouge, Jon thought Jackson was probably the strangest. "I... thought I saw a guy in the... area. He... but, uh, he slipped away from me and the others. Have you happened to see... anyone, no?"

Without speaking into the radio, Jon sighed. It was hard to understand Jackson sometimes due to his weird manner of speech. Sometimes the man would mumble entirely, forcing anyone listening to him to ask him to repeat himself over and over. "I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary," Jon admitted, speaking into the radio. "You said you heard the horn over by the Bawell group? Maybe whoever--"

"No. No, I don't think so." The Jackal also liked to interrupt people. "You know, uh, we could ask of them... if they've heard."

Jon rolled his eyes. "I mean... okay. If someone is over there making a bunch of noise, then they probably aren't from around here. They could be whoever you spotted."

"Yeah... maybe. But--"

"What did he look like?" Jon was met with silence at this inquiry. He stuck his head out the window of his truck and eyed the corner of Pickett and Perkins. There was a lot of tall grass in the area, so he knew it was entirely possible to pass by the street unnoticed here. He started the truck so that he could patrol the block when Jackson finally responded to his question.

"White. Tall. Brown hair. Young, I guess."

Well, that described a whole lot of people, didn't it? Jon didn't say that though, instead saying, "Okay, I'll keep an eye out." He put the radio down and let out a deep breath as he started his search.