[hr][hr][center][h1][color=sienna][i][b]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/b][/i][/color]
 & [b][i][color=indianred][center]James Grady[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1][/center]
[center][img][/img][/center][hr][hr][center][color=sienna][b]Location:[/b][/color] Ville au Camp, Main House, Passageway outside Room 107
[color=sienna][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A
[hr][/center]

        Gilbert gave an easygoing smile as he shook his head in a self-admonishing manner. He directed his gaze to Sophia and in smooth, even voice, allowed an apology to roll from his lips. [color=sienna]"Ah yeah... So sorry. I am caught between the entirety of human history and the desire to be polite. Sometimes the two fight with each other."[/color] He motioned after Sophia as she turned and began heading back to the passageway in which her room occupied, and followed up behind her. 

	Meanwhile, James was having an odd bit of fun trying to figure out exactly what the taller and obviously more muscular gentleman in the creased clothes and stylish fedora meant by that last statement. In life, James was a huge fan of turning the occasional enigmatic yet extremely backwoods phrase. When he got his bearings in this place, be it Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, or "Other", he hoped to get back the full use of his cheerful sarcasm. The opportunity for a chunk of tasteful sarcasm wasted, James sat on his words, and tried to wrap his head around the new guy. [color=indianred]"...entirety... of human history."[/color] he mused out loud. Maybe it was just an expression of the period; maybe that meant something in the 1940s. Or from whenever he may or may not have died. It was a lot to get used to, he supposed. But the man looked damned comfortable in his own skin, and in this place, whatever it was. If he was like himself, or Alicia, or Sophia here, then he'd been around for a long time. Unless he was one of those Emendators that he was told about. He didn't look all that different from the other dead guys he'd met so far. 

	Now [i]that[/i] thought hit home with him. James was a dead person, walking around like it was no nevermind. Is this what it felt like to be a Walker? From their perspective, anyway? The next time he settled down to a nice, juicy steak, would that be him actually gnawing into a warm, living torso? The thought made him shiver. Was this death and unlife? Was he a drooling, snarling corpse looking for a helpless victim to chew on, but seen through a nigh-idyllic filter? It was damned sobering, and James hadn't even gotten his morning snootful yet. Just then, he could really go for it, a.m. or no. 

	Well, if he was going to get answers about the man, or about this place, he'd better start asking questions. James looked down at his hands, now full with the bread and jam the tall man had thrust upon him, shrugged, and jogged after Sophia and this mystery gent. By the time he got up to them, they had found their way back in front of Sophia's door. James opened his mouth to pose a question, only to realize that he was a half-second too late as the man began to speak. He would have sworn that he was [i]trying[/i] to cut him off except that he was facing another direction altogether. [color=sienna]"It's confusing for me sometimes,"[/color] he began, [color=sienna]"and I've been at this for a while. I can only imagine how this must be for you. Strange world, unfamiliar year, and you being new Paradoxes. Well, welcome to Ville au Camp anyway. I'm the guy you talk to if you need anything. You may call me..."[/color] 

	At that second, a feminine voice of eastern European accent blurted an exclamation in their general direction. James seemed to quietly understand that she was referring to the larger man in his company, but Gil looked bemusedly shocked. [color=sienna]"Father of Giants?"[/color] he inquired quietly. With stronger voice and definite mirth in his voice, he continued, [color=sienna]"I knew a guy that had that title. Name of Caelus. He wasn't all that sweet, though - matter of fact he was... ...hmm, kind of an ass."[/color] He smiled at Alexandra, then looked at Sophia and James, [color=sienna]"I am called Gilbert. Gilbert Summers, but my colleagues refer to me as "The Hat", as we all have our jaunty little nicknames."[/color] He chuckled a little. For all of the names and titles he had gone by over the many centuries of his existence, "The Hat" was fast becoming his favorite. It sounded a little like a Mafia nickname. And he was fond of hats. [color=sienna]"Some of those nicknames are very, highly appropriate."[/color] 

	James's face seemed to light up, as if by a switch. [color=indianred]"You one o' them Enema-daters, ain't you? Hot damn!"[/color] 

	There was a snort that issued from Gilbert that was supposed to be a laugh. Unfortunately, it got caught somewhere in his sinuses and tried to escape in a manner that was equal parts ouchworthy and comical, prompting another bout of snickering and suppressed guffaws. [color=sienna]"Emenda... nevermind."[/color] He wasn't a bit offended. [color=sienna]"Hey, our group's getting a little crowded. Maybe we should take this to the Sitting Room and, well, [i]sit[/i] for a while. I'm sure you have questions, requests, concerns... ?"[/color] His voice seemed to deepen and roll out like a great lion purring, [color=sienna]"I'm sure I can be of help."[/color]