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

	The comment about bursting into song was rather interesting. Yes, he had a tendency to wax philosophic from time to time. It was in sharp contrast to how he began his life. Commanding, forceful, insistent of his own superiority. Arrogant. The man in complete control over the whole of the civilized world. Having bouts of being wordy about complex, positive feelings was a definite step away from being a total walking stereotype (possibly the guy who invented the stereotype and set the male of the species down an interesting path for the next few thousand years). And yet despite his overtly nonsensical ramblings, one point of note came to the fore of is mind as a song was mentioned. [color=sienna]"It has always been amusing to me..."[/color] began Gilbert, a wistful look taking his eye, [color=sienna]"...that I have been a part of a lot of different cultures - most of them militant, each one with their own little chants and hymns - and I have [i]yet[/i] to pick up a talent for music. In the least."[/color] It never stopped him from singing along with everybody else, though. Inexpert and joyous, most of the time. 

	[color=sienna]"Well, I am highly relieved to know that no one will be engaging in physical combat over the Twinkie issue."[/color] continued Gilbert with a slight lilt to his speech. [color=sienna]"Please understand, my existence predates the concept of sarcasm, ladies."[/color] He allowed a broad smile to decorate his features, [color=sienna]"I do have [i]such[/i] problems with the concept."[/color] Gil arched an eyebrow and continued, attempting to keep with the flow of conversation. [color=sienna]"This is what we do. It might seem like a chore right now, but over time you will come to rely upon this event to center yourself with humanity. That is important. Highly important. Carbs and sugar and storytime with children are important reminders of where we come from and what we're supposed to be protecting. Try to enjoy yourself."[/color] 

	He did take note of the sudden change in Alexandra's mood. Something manifesting? He would have to wait and see. It would be a shame if something untoward occurred in front of the kids. 

	



[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 was pretty sure that Gilbert had stashed a bottle of really good scotch under the refreshments cart. Though he did not see it happen personally, he did take note that the Emendator crouched with a mostly full bottle, and when he came back up, he had none. He had other things, but that bottle of fine hooch? Gone. He had to give this further research. The punch was good and all, and the Twinkie business was a particularly spiffy bit of home comfort, but right then he could have used a drink of something brown and flammable, kids around or not.  

	The backwoods were-pig blackneck made a showing of dropping his now empty cup to the ground, even so far as to cap it off with a faux covering of his mouth and muttering the words, [color=indianred]"Oopsie! Imma get that..."[/color] A furtive glance around, and James began sinking behind the cart, his big cowboy hat bobbing from he left to the right. Yes, this was him sneaking (but not sneaking). He sunk to his knees and jostled open the curtains just a bit, going for the big bowl of ice where he was pretty sure it was left last. His eyes settled upon something completely unexpected. James's eyes shot open boldly and hands grabbed plastic packaging. His head poked back up over the refreshments cart with a wild look upon his face, including a rictus grin of accomplishment and discovery. 

	Hands shot up, grasping bags full of multicolored triangular corn shapes. [color=indianred]"CANDY CORN! They gots Candy Corn, muthafuc... Ooh, kiddies. Sorry."[/color]