[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Atop the wagon, in front of the Courthouse [/center][hr][hr] The girl who [i]touched her horse[/i] seemed to take offense at Bridgette's helpful and informative monologue concerning her people's etiquette on equestrian familiarity and requisite actions which, if following protocol, must be taken to ensure unchallenged physical contact thereon. The rules in this particular exchange, as described by the taut and svelte Illinois native, involved the offering of victuals or the giving of stress-relieving oral gratification. To Bridgette's thinking, this was a fair exchange of goods and/or services, suitable for a few minutes' time caressing her most prized of horseflesh; her destrier with the militarily musical name of Cadence. Then again, if Bridgette were being honest with herself, she was definitely being a bitch. The girl had issues, certainly. Granted, she was being overly informative with her situation, a point which one of less scruples would use against her if the opportunity arose. Nonetheless, Bridgette was incapable in that moment of letting the challenge go unanswered, at least in some tiny, barely meaningful way. Thusly, in response, Bridgette widened her eyes and made a derisive face at the retreating girl's back, complete with protruding tongue. She extended her very best One Fingered Salute with as much gusto as was manageable, overall looking slightly like a very annoyed tween despite her more mature stature. The mail-clad scrapper chuckled slightly at herself. She was glad to be alive, glad to be behind walls right now with people, live people, who didn't want to kill her. At least, not yet. No, Bree likely had much more in the way of "being herself" before the actual death threats began. If she had a drink at the moment, she would have toasted to it. The next couple of moments passed as rather a comma in the great sentence of the moment; that is to say a brief pause before something else noteworthy occurred. Bridgette checked her bundle of food, even nibbling a little bit on the dried meat provided. She couldn't quite pick out the flavor from meat she had tried before. It wasn't obviously one thing or another. Perhaps she should have asked. Nonetheless, her voiceless, internal inquiry was cut short by a sudden feeling of being watched. It was a cold, hollow feeling, perhaps conveying the emotion (or lack thereof) emanating from the viewer. This felt of dread. Bridgette slowly turned, the look of contempt draining from her face, to see that the door to the Hordebuster had opened. Ash was emerging from his Safe Place, and he looked righteously pissed off. The .45 in his hand did little to soften the image. [hr][hr][center][h1][color=steelblue]Ashton Holloway[/color][/h1] [img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Hordebuster, Courthouse [/center][hr][hr] Ash couldn't believe it. Absolutely could not. Not the scene with the Viking Blacksmith; Ash had known her for almost an hour, and it was enough not to be surprised at what was transpiring on and near the wagon. If he had the capacity for emotion at the moment, the line about Cunnying her fucking Lingus would have sent him spilling out of the truck with gales of whooping laughter, possibly banging his head against the steering wheel repeatedly on the way down. Ash wanted to hate the tall woman. He wasn't sure if he could. No, it was the impromptu and unauthorized changing of the guard up top in the Sniper's position. Leaving post was what got their Agriculturalist killed. Going against orders in this place can get you unceremoniously executed. And this man personally knew Ash - had worked for his family for some time, and had been with him almost since the beginning of this mess. One of Ash's Virginia Folk acting in this manner was unthinkable. The incensed Captain swung open the door to his massive, undead herd destroying truck, and stepped out. He drew his Detonix .45 pistol and let it hang by his side, striding purposefully to the Courthouse door. Ash passed the wagon, perfectly aware that the tall woman dressed in metal was staring at him, not particularly caring. He had other business to handle that didn't involve him being berated for doing his job. The front doors swung open before Newnan's New Commanding Officer, propped open by nearby citizens doing nearby citizen things. Just inside the ingress, Ash met up with the man who had just left the clocktower. His name was Guy. And Guy was in a lot of trouble. [color=steelblue]"Stop. Right there."[/color] he began, his voice low and hollow sounding, amplified and echoy due to the acoustics of the building and his position within it, plus the raw, grating emotion injected into every word. [color=steelblue]"You need to tell me [i]exactly[/i] the fuck why you decided to follow the orders of a [i]teenaged girl[/i] who's been around less than a day, with [i]zero[/i] authority within these walls. You need to tell me [i]right goddamned now[/i] why you abandoned your post against orders - [b]my orders[/b] - and relinquished your rifle to someone you don't know."[/color] The man stared at Ash, eyes wide, deer-in-headlights style. Not allowing him to respond just yet, the Captain continued, [color=steelblue]"You don't have a bullet in you because we go way back, but this is the end of my mercy. Now, get your ass back up to your post. Get your weapon back, and [i]do your fucking job[/i]! First thing tomorrow, you report to me for your work assignment. As I obviously cannot trust you to stand watch, I'm going to find something a little less important and a LOT less pleasant for you to do for the next month. Now, [b]move your ass, Guy[/b]!"[/color] Noise ceased. People scarcely breathed as the enraged man spoke. You could hear a pin drop, and certainly could hear the speech for a long ways around; from the clocktower clear to the motor pool. The first thing to break the tense silence was Bridgette, from atop her wagon: [color=orangered]"HA! Attaboy, Walldick! [i]LEAN ON HIM![/i]"[/color] Ash's gun swinging temporarily in her direction made short work of her laughter. At least on the outside.