Honestly the scene presented for Jorel was hard to describe. Jorel mainly questioned himself about his next words, wondering if they would help the current situation or simply further endanger the group with ideas of separation. It wasn't totally clear if anyone was in charge, even if Conrad found the place, so the democractic thinking among the group could prove to be detrimental.

Brook decided she'd check on the girl again. It was slightly odd seeing her somewhat interested in this girl, but Jorel tried passing it up, until he saw the seriousness of it all and the sudden grab of her chin. She was kicked in the face, and Jorel was a little unsure who he should check on first, deciding to see if Brooklyn was okay once the girl was dealt with. 

The girl had gotten her bag back. This was comforting, at least. One thing Jorel and Leo shared in common was that they both valued kindness, though their methods of survival were clearly somewhat different. Jorel watched as the girl cautiously checked her belongings. He began towonder who the other person was on the photo. Was this girl alone, with a memento of a passed relative, or was this person still alive somewhere? He'd have to ask her one day once she'd get used to being with the group.

It was soon agreed that the girl would follow Leo and Sam up to the rooms. Jorel couldn't care if his room was used, but he did wonder if the two of them would keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't turn. After all, in the end they only checked her eyes and her limbs. 

Brooklyn was quite clearly upset by the situation. She had gone outside and gone back inside and paced around for a bit, which Jorel found worrying. "Hey, Brook, you al- 'kay, then, just ignore me." Jorel shrugged and scratched his eyebrow. "Conrad, that deer is stinkin' up the place and quite clearly Leo's bein' a bore. Ah, whatever." Jorel raised his palms upwards and shrugged. "I'm gonna go help Brook cook or something." He turned swiftly and walked to the kitchen, placing his rifle against the wall once inside. His revolver sat at his side as he rolled his sleeves up. "Brook, you're okay, right? If you wanna speak, I'm here. On that note, what are we making?"