[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert[/color] & [color=indianred]James[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Main Building, Dining Room -> Kitchen House) 
[b][color=dimgray]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	[color=sienna]"Well, Mr. Grady,"[/color] began Gilbert with an almost sarcastic touch of formality, [color=sienna]"As Evelina indicated, we are on refreshments. Well, I am. And you are with me, so... Kitchen House."[/color] He flashed one of his more disarming smiles and waved James on behind him. He was good at that. The new Paradox seemed to notice that he was good at it, and made mention. 

		[color=indianred]"You know, Mr. Hat, sir?"[/color] 

	[color=sienna]"Gilbert. Or Gil. Whatever."[/color] 

		James would not be deterred. [color=indianred]"Mr. Hat? You ain't got to keep tryin' to be friendly with me. I ain't that pretty little girl that don't like wearin' shoes."[/color] The implication was not lost on Gilbert, who shot James an impressed but quizzical look. Mildly annoyed, maybe, but curious as to where he was taking the conversation. [color=indianred]"Just sayin', this day's been suckin' out loud, okay? Just be straight with me."[/color] 

	Gilbert nodded his head and continued walking. [color=sienna]"You sound like you have something specific in mind."[/color] 

		[color=indianred]"Naw, not really."[/color] he replied, following his Emendator mentor. [color=indianred]"Just... I may've told the Dice Lady inside that I had a lot of stories to me, tell the young'uns and whatnot?"[/color]

	[color=sienna]"Yes. I know about your life, James Mandingo Grady of the Leesburg, GA, United States. Born in the latter part of the 20th century; Undead Uprising Timeline. Your exploits and the exploits of your friends are well known. I'm telling you, if you could see the stories that were told about all of you guys, I don't know if you'd laugh or cry. The ones that I [i]know[/i] are true, anyway, are inspirational. You have stories to tell. Like a Post-Apocalyptic Robin Hood and his entourage."[/color] 

		James stopped in the middle of his stride. People told stories about him? [i]Them?[/i] Haunting. Though it was good that he was remembered, him and Ash and Thana and Alicia, the Valkyries, Doc Froggy, etc. If stories survived, that meant that his people weren't wiped out completely. But that wasn't his point. [color=indianred]"That's damn fine and all, Mr. Hat sir, but that ain't what I'm gettin' at. Y'see... hmm. This ain't all that long ago for me, you gotta understand. Whole lotta pain an' death what I was involved in. An' I killed, sir. When I didn't have to, I mean. I'm a murderer, boss. I don't know if I can share who I am with kids anymore. I went too far."[/color] 

	The Hat likewise stopped in his tracks and turned around abruptly. He stood tall and close to James, and lowered the volume of his voice even as it grew clearer and sharper. [color=sienna]"James Grady, you listen to me [i]right now[/i]. Yeah, you killed. You might even be a killer. But it bothers you. That distinction is the most important. In the many millennia of my consciousness, I can safely say [i]that[/i] is what separates the monsters from the decent people who have made mistakes. It's a big damn mistake, and it's a hard climb to get out of it. [i]Believe me, I know[/i]."[/color] The sincerity, even raw emotion of his words impacted with the force of a swung hammer. [color=sienna]"And with enough time, almost anybody can come back from it, James. You're a good man. Even if you are a killer, that's only part of you. A dark and gruesome part that you have to accept. Don't fight against it. Embrace it; all of it is who you are. Keep it tucked away like a tool on a shelf. Tend to it. Maintain it. Don't let it rust or corrode. But [u]do not use it[/u] unless it is needed. I guarantee, having the instinct of a killer in the hands of a decent man is powerful. Just don't let it control you."[/color] 

		Tears began to form in James's eyes. The Hat was totally accurate about one thing he could recognize, that he was a killer. James was a violent man who had committed violent acts. And yes, it bothered him every time. Every single time.

	Gilbert could tell that he might have gone too far, too fast with James's recovery. It was time to dial it back. [color=sienna]"That's just one part of who you are though, James. You're also a hell of a funny guy. You're giving. Good to friends. And if memory serves... no, remind me: What did you do for a living before the Apocalypse?"[/color] 

		[color=indianred]"I was a hog hunter, 'mongst other things."[/color] 

	[color=sienna]"Not just [i]any[/i] hog hunter, man. You had a TV show there for a while, didn't you? Some moderately rated multiple season contract where they followed you into the bush to root out nuisance hogs and the like. You were 'Black James(!)', right? Some ginger guy out in east Texas even wrote a folk ballad about you. You were a hero to a lot of people long before the dead rose and began to eat the living. And if I may say so, you were a hero to a lot of them after, too. How many lives did you save in Newnan? Just by being there. Keeping bellies full and people safe. Putting your bow and rifle to good use, applying that violence that way it should have been applied."[/color] Gilbert's voice loosened up a bit, becoming more friendly and brighter. [color=sienna]"You can be that, too. Do you remember what happened the day you first set foot in Newnan? After, I mean."[/color] After meaning, of course, after the Apocalypse started. 

		James started to break a smile. [color=indianred]"Hells yeah! I ain't never told anybody 'bout that, 'cept them that was there. I was pullin' this bigass..."[/color]

	[color=sienna]"No, not now. Just remember. Tell the others. Get comfortable with it, you'll be okay. Now come on, Kitchen House. Drinks and such."[/color] Gil casually spun around and walked the rest of the way to the Kitchen House. In a bit better spirits, James followed. What good was a party without refreshments, anyway?