[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e7de846f-30f3-4613-933c-40dce7104529.png[/img][/center]
[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e4117d5f-65c8-4b8e-98df-5810a59267c5.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=dc143c][b]Location:[/b][/color] North Of Newnan (Veterans Memorial Park - Corner of Temple Ave. & Jackson St.)[/center][hr][hr]

	The slightly oversalted joy that was Chili plus Mac & Cheese ([b][i]together[/i][/b]) was Thalia's to consume at leisure. Lola had pretty much finished hers off and the old guy, Alexander, was just about to enter the nearest building that may or may not logically contain coffee mugs. She didn't have a lot in the way of actual, honest-to-god table manners, but she did have the tiniest twinge of guilt horking back a full, nutritious meal in front of someone who probably hadn't been able to eat their fill in weeks. Maybe months. 

	But hork she did. The pleasantries of civilized society a thing of the past for her, she had zero qualms ripping into the contents of the dark plastic packaging and attacking the passably edible goodies inside. Her preference for solitude, even from before the Outbreak, led her down a path of eating for the utilitarian need of keeping her body functioning; to that end it was fast and didn't [i]always[/i] involve forks, even when forks were the generally preferred method of making sure food and face had an amicable meeting. Many times, unless other people were present, flatware just slowed her down. 

	The stark allure of Chili Mac was almost enough to warrant turning the whole thing upside down and squeezing the contents of the bag into her mouth. Almost. The good people that put together the MRE saw fit to include a thick plastic spoon, supposedly biodegradable (though she never saw one mid-degrade). She looked up at Lola, putting on her makeup, and sighed. Spoon it was. The heating element, however, she didn't want to waste on her breakfast. A contained exothermic reaction started by a few drops of water? No, no. That had possibilities. 

	But she still made that MRE her bitch. 

	[color=dc143c]"Nah, Lolz."[/color] Thalia was speaking through partial mouthfuls as she addressed Lola's query about their new acquaintance's sanity. [color=dc143c]"I don't think he's crazy. Or senile. Hell, he's probably just as sane as y..."[/color] She paused for a moment and gave a little cough, [color=dc143c]"Excuse me; sane as I am. Man his age, living this long with the Zeds? I think he just found his own personal slice of [i]Fuck It[/i]."[/color] 

	Thalia located and ripped open a sealed, grey-brown packet containing dense, square crackers. That and a little peanut butter would go down nicely. Quietly, however, she picked up the pack of matches from inside her pack and secreted them into the breast pocket of her leather jacket. She did so appreciate having easy means to make fire.