[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ff00]Jack Hudson[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/f69e7cf2a43d8d29a3bad72ae2d4ae0e/tumblr_inline_nuo447g8fk1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)[/center][hr][hr]Jack wasn't too certain what Bazhooli and Tatiana were saying. It was hard for him to be able to learn Russian while fighting for his life, so his skills were subpar at best. He understood pretty much the words Tatiana had taught him, the pet names and such they exchanged on a daily basis. However, Bazhooli did him the great mercy of using English, releasing him from having to help with the show that night. As his mind flickered back to his brief fantasy, he couldn't help but think it was [i]still[/i] a very good idea for him not to join in with the festivities. 

[color=00ff00]"Looking bettah than evah,"[/color] Jack complimented, watching as Tatiana filled the room with music, and more importantly, with her grace. Her beauty was awe inspiring, and he watched, his eyebrows raising slightly as he caught Tatiana's idea. It would be an interesting combination between the pair, and Jack continued to watch his love as she danced. 

Putting his hands together, he gave a huge clap to Tatiana already, whistling at bit at her each and every move. It might have been slightly obnoxious of him, but he practically couldn't help himself. She looked [i]amazing[/i], with the light in her eyes as she danced around the room. 
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc6699]Édouard Riviere[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/4db66702f5b30dd52c5208bdfd97be87/tumblr_inline_mw08w9sLhe1s73t47.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: The Infirmary (Franklin)[/center][hr][hr][color=cc6699]"Si,"[/color] Édouard insisted. He meant everything he had ever said--except for the things he hadn't meant. It was a bit of a complicated process, a practice in hypocrisy, but it all worked out for him. She pulled his hands away from the bloody stump, pressing a rag into them. Raising an eyebrow at her, Édouard was tempted to throw the rag in her face--he couldn't be bought! He wouldn't suffer her womanly wiles! He was a Rivere! He was descended from the great Dorian Riviere, the man who returned from the dead! (Though, really, it turned out he wasn't dead in the first place...it was a minor detail). 

And as if confirming his suspicions, a piece of man meat entered the infirmary. Édouard rolled his eyes, seeing the latest slave to Sana's charms. The man put an arm around her, the pair of them speaking in English, and Édouard wanted to gag. He glanced down at Ray, throwing him a look of exasperation, as if Ray too found Sana to be a repulsive sexual creature. And of course, the helpless sap kissed her on the cheek, and the pair of them left the room, a horrifying and gruesome sight. 

[color=cc6699]"Quoi? Elle est comtesse?"[/color] Édouard asked, his face filled with disbelief. He then let out a little laugh. He had heard about the countess from time to time, mostly just her name. He never had seen a photograph of her face. His sister, Alisanne, had explained that the countess was a coward, hiding from her enemies. It was nothing a Riviere would ever do--aside from the great Dorian, who essentially, did exactly that...Again, another minor detail. 

[color=cc6699]"Je la plains,"[/color] he muttered with a bit of a laugh, shaking his head as he wiped the blood off of his fingers. It was too neat as well, too neat and tidy. The more information he learned, the less he believed. He had already decided she was a temptress--nothing more, nothing less. 

To think otherwise was pure folly.

[hider=Translations]Si = Yes [i]Strongly, used to contradict a negative statement[/i]
Quoi? Elle est comtesse? = What? She's a countess? 
Je la plains = I pity her.[/hider][hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc66ff]Tryke Lockley[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/16788847dbfd8cbc370e7c34bc815fea/tumblr_n49b3m6eUv1ridbiho2_250.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: the Woods[/center][hr][hr]Astrid and Bridgette. Bridgette and Astrid? She wasn't sure which one rolled off the tongue better, but with the names and the horses, Tryke smelled some flavor of fangirl. They could have been really into the old school Thor comics, maybe they fancied themselves to be Vikings out of time, she wasn't certain. But having grown up going from convention to convention, she felt the two of them wouldn't be out of place there. They were out of time, out of their natural context. 

[color=cc66ff]"I'm more of a set you on fire type of girl,"[/color] Tryke joked, her tone fairly even and steady. Her baseball bat was reserved with smashing walkers to pieces, scattering their grey matter across the ground. But her homemade flamethrower, a glorified lighter and an aerosol can? That was for people. It tended to frighten them, and if they still didn't get it, she'd pretend there was a bomb inside of her bag. That had tended to do the trick, with the few run-ins she had had over the last three years. 

Walking her bike to the road, as the horsewomen and the man started off, Tryke followed them. She didn't wear a helmet--if she died from a motorcycle crash, she considered that to be a victory within itself. With her bandana keeping most of her hair down, she still felt the slight tickle of the wind as she rode. And while Tryke realized she hadn't introduced herself, she wasn't too troubled about it. 

People tended not to believe you when you said your name was [i]Tryke Lockley.[/i] And it wasn't like her full name was any better. Still, playing ambulance? Had she stumbled upon some lost dregs of civilization? Had the apocalypse ended and been replaced with a Viking reenactment, complete with motorcycles? What the hell was going on anymore? For all she knew, she'd run into some asshat with a robotic arm at this point.