[b]Floyd Conlon [/b] - Baton Rogue - Tremblay/Jon

	As the covering blindfold was removed from his filthy face, Floyd squinted his eyes at the sight of the illuminating sun. The rays burned his pupils, providing him with a desired discomfort. His eyes flickered open and closed as his vision adjusted to the lighting of his surroundings. He couldn't rub his face because his hands were still shackled together with numerous zip tie. Hair falling down over his face like a rough rider. He looked nearly like a homeless man - which in reality they all were - but he had never been labeled one in the real world. 

	So as this mysterious Tremblay spoke, Floyd lifted his chin and looked towards the standing form. The sun was right behind him, so his facial features were covered by a beam of white glare, only the outline of his body was visible. What wasn't coated was everything he was spilling from his mouth. Floyd believed it all to be bullshit, not lies, but bullshit. Their entire situation didn't seem to change, because they were slaves with Robert, and they're slaves now with Tremblay. Floyd despised being beaten by such animals, lowered to the rank of property. He hated the fact that he couldn't do anything about it. This was their reality now, there was no time to grieve, no time to reminiscent on past events. Floyd didn't even allow himself to recall what happened to Hank and the others, he pushed it aside and deep down into a the hateful void in his mind. It was so easy to hate and to forget. 

	With burning eyes and a ring shinning blue around his pupils, Floyd let his body heat increase, fighting the urge to attack the ravages before him. He was using all of needed strength to hold himself back, both mentally and physically. But aside from his rage, Floyd did indeed feel. Like everyone, he was human, but tempted to push aside all those unpleasant memories so he wouldn't reveal that weakness to anyone. He becomes loud in order to hide those true emotions, an near-perfect barrier around his sentimental side. 

	Floyd turned to his left to see Imogen and Aidan alongside him, both still chained up as well. He frowned, not because he preferred other individuals beside him, but because he was tired of losing people. Everyone he has come across has either died, vanished, or will soon be killed by an outside force. Jess was the first to go. Abram followed. Where they dead? Floyd was still unsure what to believe. He was skeptical, wanting to assume that Abram had got her out, but couldn't bring himself to even think of them. He would rather just forget than believe they were dead. So as the man before him continued to lay down the foundation of this community they'd be entering, Floyd drifted his eyes towards the ground, taking it all in. 

	He suddenly jumped when a guard came out of nowhere and started to unzip his hands. Floyd twisted his neck to the right in attempt to get a good look at the man, but couldn't see him. He felt uneasy having his captors so close to him, grunting as he was forced to move. Then his eyes caught a man with a familiar voice, the same man who loaded them to the truck in the first place. He had him so close that he could tear his throat off with his mere teeth, but that would only get everyone on his side killed. This was their reality now and they were going have to adapt to it to survive, or fight it and hope they can beat it.