[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)
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	The conversations abounded around the table in the Kitchen House, but James was really only hearing bits and pieces of it. He regarded the alcohol in his hands. It was very much like the distillation he drank with its creator, seemingly just a short time ago. Days, really. And the night prior, he had a particularly wonderful (if a little young) batch of hefty and stout sweet potato beer. Or something like beer. Well, it didn't matter so much what it would have been called, it wouldn't really exist, such as it was, for several decades to come. His booze was familiar, but it was not exact. Such was his continued existence. It was quite like that to which he was accustomed, but it simply was not it. Damn, it was welcome, though. 

	He almost didn't catch it when Alicia posed a question to him. He stared blankly for a second at her until the words made sense in his brain, then shook his head a little. [color=indianred]"Sorry there, girl. Head took me somewheres else fo' a sec..."[/color] He allowed himself a small sip, significantly smaller than the first one he gulped at the outset of the jar opening. It was still enough for him to cut an awkward face and snap his fingers until the burn in his gullet went away. He exhaled a little, ending with a suspicious, [color=indianred]"...gah... Smooth."[/color] It was a hell of a thing, Moonshine. There was good flavor present, but only if you could somehow drag your senses past the medicinal grade kick of alcohol. [color=indianred]"Your old man... damn but I missed him. Yeah, that sumbitch'd be all over this. All over this. Hey, maybe I didn't meet Caesar in that [i]other[/i] timeline, the one you from, right? We ever head thataway, maybe I can introduce him to it an' ask him."[/color] James wasn't 100% on how this whole thing worked; he was given the briefest of rundowns on the situation of being a Paradox by the Dice Lady earlier. But if the Walkers hadn't overrun the planet in that timeline, getting hold of some Holloway & Sons would be a possibility. [color=indianred]"Yeah, your Papi'd be up for this. Maybe he'd've even given Cap'n Ash less shit for seein' you if he started out the talk with some of this, huh?"[/color] 

	It was about this time that James noticed the light from the doorway was blocked by the silhouette of a tall, muscular man wearing a lightly distressed fedora. He wasn't sure if drinking in the middle of what was supposed to be a tour was a great idea, but he was far too old now to try to cover it up with his shirt and insist that he take a field sobriety test instead of the breathalyzer. Instead, he raised his mason jar to the man and casually turned back to Alicia, hoping that were this an actionable offense, he'd get some kind of warning rather than the alternative.  




[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 had made the decision to get back to the two Paradoxes that he was supposed to be showing around the grounds. There was little else he could do until the hole was dug and Peter's body was made ready for interment. Perhaps continuing the tour wasn't the greatest idea right at that moment, anyway. There was nothing like bringing a slashed-up corpse into an area with confused and shaky people who had just been brought back from the dead to find themselves in a different time and place to throw one off of one's plans for the day. So maybe this would have to be postponed for a little bit. At least until Peter was buried and respect had been paid. 

	It did look a little odd to see that most everyone else had crowded back into the Kitchen House. Gilbert was fond of that place, insomuch as he was fond of any place that had the basic creature comforts of food and warmth, good solid chairs to sit upon and broad tables to load down with yummy things. He liked it almost as much as his workshop, or the armory. But here he was now, along with his two charges for the next bit of time. 

	As he stood in the doorway, he noticed the slightly nervous expression given by James. He and Alicia weren't out doing their little tour, either. So there they all were, lounging in the Kitchen House and drinking mountain made whiskey. Gilbert sighed and shook his head, then walked over to the jars on the table. He picked one up and examined it as one might an old book or an unusual bi of antiquity. [color=sienna]"A drinking game? I never required a game to dull my senses and bring about projectile vomiting. I will caution moderation. If you abandon sobriety entirely, they might not appreciate what comes after."[/color] He walked to the cupboard, secured for himself a smallish coffee mug, and poured a dram or two for himself. [color=sienna]"Enjoy, but do not abuse, what we have to offer."[/color]