[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ff00]Jack Hudson[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/286232f2ff4cbdfaa0b7cf172cc2b2b6/tumblr_inline_nuo4aktdlO1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)[/center][hr][hr]Him, a ringmaster? Jack tried to imagine it, and the only problem he was his accent. But he supposed, as long as they didn't have too many R's for him to say, it'd work. He was able to memorize the Miranda warning for his job, so he doubted that lines would be too much of an issue...But would he embarrass Tatiana? He wasn't entirely kidding when he said he couldn't just stop being goofy. 

His record was ten minutes with a straight face. Sutton had timed him, back when he was first transferred to Chicago. But with the world the way it was, perhaps his record had improved...But with Tatiana around, he wasn't sure he could go a minute without smiling like an idiot still. She was just too amazing. 

[color=00ff00]"Alright, I can do that,"[/color] Jack agreed. [color=00ff00]"Just don't ask me to say 'pahk the caah in hahvahd yahd' or anything like that, if you want people to understand,"[/color] he finished, joking a bit. Meg's question made him stop to think a bit. He had been doing police work for ages, always looking out for people and protecting. Security seemed to be an obvious thing for him to do. 

But there was a small part of him that wanted to try something new. [color=00ff00]"Maybe I'll learn to be a bakah, up to almost anything,"[/color] Jack answered, an honest smile on his face. As long as Tatiana was happy, he didn't much care what he did. 
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc6699]Édouard Riviere[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/e81762915d1152307f5476fe1360aa63/tumblr_inline_mw08h81YVn1s73t47.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: The Infirmary ---> Abandoned Classroom (Franklin)[/center][hr][hr]Édouard groaned slightly, seeing as Amelia pointed the finger at him, and Lyon, in turn, aimed his weapon. He was tempted to take another step, out of sheer laziness. The entire world seemed to hate him, anyways. Gone were the days when he was [i]the shit.[/i] He wasn't a big deal anymore--his short time in Franklin had taught him that. And quickly, he was turning tired and bitter. Why not just go out now, and end things before they got all the more depressing? At least in death, the temptress could not seduce him any further. 

[color=cc6699]"Tu penses que je me sens concerné par toi, eh, Amélie?"[/color] Édouard asked, rolling his eyes. [color=cc6699]"Le monde est indifférent!"[/color] he threw his hands up slightly, laughing painfully. He was about to take a step, when Sana emerged, and frantically made his excuses. He turned slightly, his face clearly covered in confusion, and then she led him into the empty classroom. 

[color=cc6699]"Pourquoi?!"[/color] Édouard screamed, rubbing his jaw after her [i]explosive[/i] punch. Yeah, she [i]definitely[/i] was a temptress. [color=cc6699]"Dites la vérité--pouquoi est-ce que tu te sens concerné par moi?"[/color] Édouard asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to her. On the one hand, he was tempted to leave, to say goodbye to Franklin...But did this woman actually care about him? She had just decked him, and now, she was saying she had his back? Why did she care? What reason did she have?  

He couldn't recall the last time anyone did care about him, either.

[hider=Translations]"Tu penses que je me sens concerné par toi, eh, Amélie? = You think I care about you, eh, Amelia? 
Le monde est indifférent! = The world doesn't care! // No one cares!
Pourqoui?! = Why?!
Dites la vérité--pouquoi est-ce que tu te sens concerné par moi? = Say the truth--why do you care about me?[/hider][hr][hr][center][h1][color=#cc66ff]Tryke Lockley[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/9f38a116b936b32d722f532ad6a4d3b2/tumblr_n6ap4nLG4v1r1kq55o2_250.gif[/img][/center][hr][center]Location: Franklin[/center][hr][hr]Perhaps if this were an alternate universe, one where Tryke had met Marx and Bridgette under different circumstances, their remarks would have bothered her. Instead, with Marx's angst filled comments, his explanation about his burn, she felt mostly indifferent. The only thing that she cared to think about was that his hand, from what she could tell, was not functioning properly. And robotics happened to be her area of expertise. 

[color=cc66ff]"You want a new hand?"[/color] Tryke asked. The parts would be difficult to come by, perhaps even impossible to find, but resourcefulness was her strong suit. [color=cc66ff]"It'd not be nearly as nice as Skywalker's, but I can fashion something together if you're interested. Won't be perfect--you'll shake like Strange--but useable."[/color] Of course, the help of a biomedical engineer would have been nice as well--she wasn't even certain she could get the nervous system to respond to robotics. Electrical impulses, as far as Tryke could recall, had been the most they could do before the world went to shit. Osseointegration had never been done to its logical extreme. 

But Tryke enjoyed a challenge. No matter how long it would take or how impossible it appeared. It'd keep her mind busy. Her eyes flickered over to the truck, and Tryke smiled a bit at Bridgette's comment. Yeah, she knew that her name was a bit much sometimes. Her parents hadn't exactly thought naming her through very carefully. [color=cc66ff]"Tryke's a nickname. Trillium Brite is the actual first name my parents assumed would be a [i]fantastic[/i] idea to give their only daughter."[/color]