[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://data.whicdn.com/images/11230301/original.png[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp - Kitchen House 
[b][color=sienna]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	Gilbert crunched his pickle loudly, but declined to get anything else at that time. He wanted to take a look at the eclectic group left for him to show around. People began to file out, one by one, leaving the kitchen proper empty except for himself and two of the newest Paradoxes. The initial introductory phase of these neophytes was coming to a close, prompting him to interact directly with these people on a more personal level. Though a generally open and friendly guy, Gil had opted to remain conversationally distant, responding to only the most general of inquiries. Well that had officially come to a close, more or less. 

	The tall Emendator took another bite from his pickle, pretty much destroying it except for a generally unimpressive nub which he tossed unceremoniously in the nearest waste receptacle. The two that remained with him seemed to have an appetite, or did until the sudden crack of thunder and his comment concerning it. Apparently, a demonstration of their potential abilities was suitable to make them take the concept more seriously. It was one thing for [i]him[/i] to show something; he was an Emendator. At one point in time, he was considered to be a demigod by the public at large, another era painted him as a demon. These people were fully aware of their own demise, to awaken in a strange place with strange people who had supernatural abilities and spoke with the experience of millennia. He had powers. Big deal. A fellow dead person that made Mother Nature hiccup? [i]That[/i] was worthy of notice. 

	Of course, Gilbert had to decide whether to address the continued attentions of the Russian Regency Era Paradox, this last incident just prior to Andromeda's brush with her newfound abilities. In the end, he decided to stick with a raised eyebrow and a short but quizzical stare in her direction. He held his gaze for a moment before shrugging and returning to his more laid-back demeanor. Not for the first time today, Gil reminded himself that people dealt with dying and returning in different ways. The dark-skinned fellow that left with Alicia seemed to do so by swaying back and forth between humor and despondency. It spoke volumes on who he was before. Meanwhile, this one seemed intent on either trying to mount him or manipulate him, and at a coin toss. Luckily for Gilbert, he was notoriously difficult to manipulate, like the other Emendators. They'd just experienced too much. As for the other, well... she seemed a bit young for him. Not in a sense of physicality, obviously, but she seemed to have a mindset that was too similar to his a few thousand years ago. Immature, impulsive, unyielding. It might develop into something formidable in time, or it could fall away as she began to psychologically adapt to her new existence. Either way, Gilbert had to observe for himself how each of them handled the transition, preferably comparing notes with his fellow Emendators before acting as anything other than a guide or counselor. 

	The other Paradox asked some fairly basic questions, though Gilbert took a moment before addressing either of them. He wanted to let the moment sink in. Then Gil gave a reassuring smile and addressed the both of them with open confidence. [color=sienna]"Bartholomew Rosecliff, Alexandra Andonova."[/color] He gave another second or two of silence, looking over them with serious expression. Then his face cracked into a vaguely amused snicker. [color=sienna]"First and last name. That's always fun. Makes the new guys think the worst. Okay, where to start? Weather Manipulator! No, it's not normal here; yeah, it's rare. Everyone gets a little something that is both a curse and a blessing. Hers..."[/color] he motioned toward the door, indicating the pale Paradox outside, [color=sienna]"...is potentially dangerous to herself, others, dogs, cats, birds, mailmen, so on and so forth. Unless she learns control. The same will be true for the two of you, regardless of your upcoming talents. Hers are a little more volatile, is all."[/color] 

	He turned his attention specifically to Bartholomew, addressing the young man's more personal questions. [color=sienna]"Being an Emendator has certain perks. I seem to be tied to the concept of civilization, as best as I can tell. I know things. Pretty much everything in human history, great and small, even the stuff I wasn't around for personally. Bart (may I call you Bart?), you're part of that history, too. And you're quite welcome. Little pieces of familiarity, loved or hated, really seem to help with the process."[/color] 

	Bringing the subject back to the present, [color=sienna]"For right now, I'd like to give it a wait for the other groups to pick a direction before we leave. We don't want to rush them, and they will want a little space for their own private conversations. Especially the Undead Georgia group, I would lay money on."[/color] 






[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=indianred]James Grady[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://image.ibb.co/i56LZR/Blackjames.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=indianred]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp - Kitchen House, Front Porch Area
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	A strange look come over James as Alicia spoke. The description of her abilities kicked off a memory from his last lifetime, specifically the last night of sleep he had before Taking the Big Dirtnap in a world filled with upright, mobile corpses and heartbreak. Something was becoming clear, like cracks working their way out of a pane of glass so that he might glimpse the scenery beyond. He raised his finger, mouth open as if to make a point of order when another Emendator approached, introducing himself. Alicia's introduction swiftly followed. It served to break his concentration briefly, though not so much as to get him off of his train of thought. 

	[color=indianred]"How'd'ya do there, Mr. Gio, sir?"[/color] he spoke in an overly cheerful, possibly ulterior motivated voice.[color=indianred]"Why, It's just a feather duster to my short n' curlies to meet you, man, but I gotta have me a moment with my girl here. Just one sec, huh?"[/color] 

	The memory of his last bit of natural sleep became more vivid with concentration, even through the haze his brain seemed to put around his recollection. James took a step or two toward Alicia, and continued with hushed voice, [color=indianred]"Aight, be straight with me, 'k? Night before I died, I saw you. Like, in a dream saw you. You told me stuff, like warnin' me. I gotta know, was that [i]you[/i] you?"[/color]