[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://sharovarka.com/pictures/jason-momoa/27512-jason-momoa.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Outside of the Kitchen House) 
[b][color=sienna]Skills:[/color][/b] Hard/Soft Martial Arts [hr][/center]

	A broad, warm grin spread across Gilbert's face. He made a sweeping gesture with his hands as he bowed at the waist, letting his long, dark hair fall from behind his shoulders. He kept his piercing green, almond shaped eyes on the pale lady, more than lightly pleased at her presence yet curious (to the point of being wary) as to the reason for it. If it was merely a cursory visit to catch up with an couple of her long-term (and that's [i]long[/i]-term) friends and associates, then so be it. He could use the company and the unique perspective that she had to offer. But first, she had a request. Be it that she made the request while in conversation with his protege for the evening, Mr. James Grady, it was apparent that the actual words were meant for him: 

	[i]Gilbert knows what I enjoy, don't you darling?[/i] 

	[color=sienna]"Yes, Madame."[/color] he responded with a playful tone, [color=sienna]"Yes, I do. One moment, if you would please."[/color] Indeed all it would take was a single moment, evidenced by the fact that Gilbert found himself jogging from his position back into the Kitchen House. Within a cabinet located over the icebox, he pulled a tall tumbler glass and a cardstock box that, by the way he handled it, contained weighty but precious cargo indeed. He opened the top door of the appliance and struck a solid block of ice with his bare fist, a concentrated blow that imparted a seemingly unnatural amount of very specific pressure into the mass of frozen water. At first, nothing happened, but very soon, cracks began to form from the point of impact, spiderwebbing out in an almost symmetrical pattern. He reached in and pulled the largest few of these shards out, clinking them into the tumbler so as to irregularly fill the glass with jagged triangles of ice, lightly wafting frozen vapors into the atmosphere. 

	Swift feet carried Gilbert, glass, ice, and bottle back out to where everyone was gathering, most of the adults vying for the attention of their newest guest. Gil uncorked the bottle and poured a generous libation, describing it offhand as, [color=sienna]"Extreme flavors of peat and earth, rich and sensuous sensations of moss and other elements of dark cherry and roses, though not so much as to distract from the decay which births this amazing whisky. If you would do me the honor of accepting my glass, it is as you have requested; dry, cold, and enough to curdle the blood if you are not used to it."[/color] He held it out to her, presenting it as one might a trophy or piece of fine jewelry. 

	[color=sienna]"Understand, this does not count as that drink I requested later on."[/color] He punctuated his sentence with a wink. 






[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 (By the Oak)
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	James realized that he was staring. He had tried to stop a couple of times now, but once the pre-apocalypse memory of his social and personal preferences got hold of him, he knew that a cold shower would be necessary in order to get something akin to fitful rest that evening. Yeah, he was being stupid. A typical guy, anyway, which was sometimes synonymous with stupid. Particularly as it came to women. He was usually pretty good about that, though. Gentlemanly in his own way, be it in a rustic manner slanted by the culture of his birth. For the most part, he was a really decent guy.

	It wasn't until the other Paradoxes began to help themselves to the wonder and spiffiness of the refreshments cart, even going so fa as to speak to him, that he fully snapped out of it. [color=indianred]"Aw damn, Miss Alex... I'm sorry. Done got myself all distracted and whatnot."[/color] He began loading up the displaced Russian lady with various odds and ends. [color=indianred]"Now, I'm sho' glad you takin' a interest in our cartload of sweeties, here."[/color] He turned to face Alexandra, face offering a touch of humility, [color=indianred]"But I can't be takin' most the credit on that punch, now. All that's from Mr. Hat's kitchen, right? He sure do make a damn fine bowl of punch, don't he? Ooh, try one o' these."[/color] he said, changing the subject abruptly. [color=indianred]"They gots the coconut."[/color] He gave Alexandra a big smile and nodded vigorously. Apparently, there was still a bit of a kid in him, though it rarely showed anymore.