[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=DC143C]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e4117d5f-65c8-4b8e-98df-5810a59267c5.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] In The Truck
[b][color=DC143C]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][hr][/center]

	Like a bright eyed young lady checking to make sure that her makeup was on juuuuust right before arriving at the prom, Thalia looked in the rearview mirror to make sure that the Death's Head she marked upon her face with ash and soot was still present and unsmudged.  It wouldn't matter a hell of a lot to the people she intended to murder later on that day, but a girl's got to have standards. She was representing her people, after all. Glancing down at Astrid's shield, she realized that she was representing them, too. There was no one else left. 

	When the Silverado rolled to a stop, and in a parking space no less, Thalia marveled over the utter novelty of it all. She suppressed the urge to make some manner of comment, owing to the fact that this was a damned commonplace activity not so long ago, and when the first opportunity presented itself she rolled out of her seat and onto the blacktop upon which they had parked. Thana was pulling out a tiny arsenal, that was for sure. Not that she hadn't seen better in the course of her life, but in this day and age a bullet was damn near currency and full magazine of ammunition was something worth killing over. 

	After hearing that Alexander was foregoing the 9mm, Thalia jumped on the opportunity. Without a word, she walked over to the Beretta and snatched it up, giving it a once-over. She ejected the clip and cleared the chamber, tapping the extra round onto the bed of the truck. With what looked like precision experience, Thalia examined the action of the firearm, checked for any internal difficulties (grit, rough spots, etc.) and then quickly reassembled the weapon. She grabbed the spare clip and tucked it into her tac belt, giving Thana a rough, [color=crimson]"Thanks."[/color] The inflection of actual gratitude was muted a little bit by thoughts of what lay ahead for them, but she was thankful nonetheless. It was like a tiny Christmas for her. The Beretta and her Glock were both built with the exact same frame at the exact same length. Thalia didn't even have to worry about mixing up the ammo. She even gave a coy smile when she noticed that Thana had taken the game dressing tools, which she assumed had belonged to James. Her eyes went from the roll of sharp things up to Thana, then back down. Then a kind of realization set in. 

	Thalia was not a fan of unnecessary cruelty. If someone needed to die, they needed to die. Period. Torture was for extracting information, and it wasn't really as reliable as people claimed it to be. Otherwise it was just for sick fun, or grotesque punishment. Thalia was not particularly fine with either. Some in her family were, hell, they were even really good at it. But not her. Torture just didn't seem to serve a point. She leveled her eyes at Thana, but did not share her thoughts. Instead, [color=crimson]"If there's a spare short blade in the mix, I'd appreciate."[/color] She was good with sharp. Quick, precise, lethal. Just like her Papi taught her. Guns were good and all; necessary even. But nothing says "quick and quiet" or makes a statement like melee stabbing. 

	On second thought, she would share a piece of opinion with Thana. [color=crimson]"Make sure they deserve it, yah?"[/color] She then looked to Alex, on the radio. [color=crimson]"Alright. You tell Lolz to keep her ass in one piece. And don't give my stuff away. I'm coming back for it."[/color]