[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
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[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]1[/b], Infirmary
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	Apparently Ash's words of cautious encouragement for Niesha were met with some element of indignation, and in front of company. Any other time, this would be considered a breach of etiquette. "[i]A mistake[/i]," she had asked, "[i]that you wish could just be forgotten[/i]." 

	[color=steelblue]"That remains to be seen, Niesha."[/color] he replied with narrowed eyes. He recalled the first day that her and her group stood at the gates, petitioning for entry. He didn't particularly like the look of the group, though he had to admit that they were the most interesting group of survivors that he'd encountered thus far. In the end, urgency bought their way inside, that and the pressing fact that one of their number required medical attention. 

	Not too unlike the situation building at the moment - a small group of unknown people were traveling to Newnan, led by two of their own, specifically for the purpose of receiving medical care. Hell, they might as well paint a huge red cross across the walls and open a dispensary. The stress alone on their supplies were they to continually take in nonproductive personnel would become highly problematic, and soon. And the stress upon their doctor would likewise become highly problematic, for the same reason. 

	This seemed to be Ash's main concern, as of late. More people to go on runs. More people to produce food. More people to walk the walls. More people to secure their holdings. And of course, now they needed more people to see to the medical needs of the community. It would likely never end. And Ash couldn't just tell people to go away, not that genuinely needed their help. But he'd be damned if his people would suffer for the wants of the rest of the world. There had to be a line somewhere. 

	Ash had little time to ponder this as the guard he assigned to keep an eye on Ryan apparently just left his post, and prisoner unattended. [color=steelblue]"This is why you were left a radio."[/color] the Captain said flatly. Then an odd sort of realization flashed across his face. He drew his ever-present .45 and began toward the Cells, urging the armed guard back to his assigned post in front of him. If this was what he thought it was, Ash was going to have to seriously retrain his people. And Ryan would have to learn to play hopscotch with one leg. If he was lucky. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
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[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] (outside of) Heard County High School, Franklin
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	Ok, that guy Marx had a mouth on him, too. Not a very original one, but some zingers are classics, if they're set up right. [color=orangered]"You know, Fuckstump - That was a reasonable goddamn question, making sure a lady equal access to a robotic wank-machine. And that was a reasonable goddamn observation before it, too. Put some pneumatics on that baby and you're blasting into "paint shaker" territory. Really step up your masturbation tech game, huh?"[/color] 

	Oh, but then he had to get personal. Bridgette responded by raising her shield into the air slightly. [color=orangered]"You can't tell from here, Marxy, but I'm totally giving you the finger."[/color] She nodded, confirming for herself the only piece of sign language she reliably used. [color=orangered]"No problems finding a horizontal workout partner. No complaints after, either. A girl needs some alone time. You know, collect her shit."[/color] Her tone hardly changed, switching over to speaking with Tryke in a fluid conversational segue, [color=orangered]"and YOU, little lady... Beater? Like egg beater? I might can help out with that - I work metal. Or we could just get the right people drunk. Either/or, fine by me. Got the hookup on some decent stuff back home."[/color] 

	Finally, it looked like Astrid had bundled up their package, nice and neat for delivery, and they were all set to ...fuck. Three of them. Plus an entourage. Plus Marx. On Astrid's horse. Oh, this was going to be an interesting evening indeed. Her Battle Sister's final words on the subject of personal equine care, terminating in a promise of spearpoint demise and a motion in Bridgette's direction. The tall woman smiled at Marx, a warm, cheery, full-faced grin. Bridgette lay her spear across her saddle and have the man a vigorous wave, as if greeting a childhood friend. 

	Though the way back was direct and recently traveled, Bridgette kept on the alert. It was times like this, not too long ago when it was just she and Astrid, that things could go wrong quickly in the changing light. At least they would have the setting sun at their backs; little advantages added up when situations turned. The smartass was put aside for the time being; the Warrior emerging. She was of little help with medical emergencies or patent care, but Bridgette had sharp eyes and good instincts, and she intended to use both to act as a lookout and bodyguard (if needed). 

	[color=orangered]"Contingency Plan."[/color]