[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]

	It was most certainly getting on in the evening. Though without the innate sense of time that his fellow Emendator, Gio, possessed, it was accurate to say that he had "Groundhog Day'ed" this loop enough times to get a really, really good sense of the passage of this set of hours. Nonetheless, a being as venerable as Belladonna deserved respect, the least of which would be manifest in what casual manners Gilbert possessed. He swept his hat from his head in another grand gesture, bowing at the waist as a royal courtier might. [color=sienna]"You are correct, Mistress Belladonna. The hour grows late - later than comfort allows. Excuse me, please."[/color] 

	Gilbert turned to the gathering children and chaperones, and of course the present Paradoxes. Oddly, it occurred to him that he was one of the senior Emendators on site, and as such should probably demonstrate [i]some form[/i] of responsibility with the young charges, more or less. Especially with the hour growing late. The more modern incarnation of The Hat was remarkably laid-back, easygoing, and the type to enjoy life with all of its little points of wonder and luxury. It was not always this way. Not by far. The man he used to be, eons ago, was merely a tool that he brought to the fore in case he was needed. But make no mistake, Gilbert was still that person. A man who ruled the known world at one point in time, bought and paid for by the strength of raw personality and prowess in battle. The least he could do was assist Nancy in corralling a group of kids off of the grounds. Having stragglers at this hour could prove disastrous. 

	With a voice that carried authority over ancient kingdoms, Gilbert announced with arms held wide, [color=sienna]"Ladies and Gentlemen, Young Masters and Ladies of the Night, it is with greatest regret I announce that the festivities for the evening are [i]over[/i]. Please stop by the refreshments cart for a bag of goodies,"[/color] He gave a nod to James, motioning to one side of the bottom shelf, [color=sienna]"And immediately following, attend to the heels of the two lovely young women; find your way back to home and hearth. I will help see you to the end of our grounds, if only to ensure that no spirits or were-kind assail you on this dark and foreboding evening."[/color] he fell in step behind the visitors, ensuring that none took a detour before arriving at the main exit, [color=sienna]"And have yourselves a Happy Halloween, children."[/color] He punctuated his sentiment with a sustained laugh that began lighthearted, but slowly turned into something resembling a primal Disney villain. 

	[color=sienna]"After you..."[/color] 






[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]

	There was a question set to James by the extremely pale Paradox. Far be it for him to deny a fellow recently dead person the request of a story. Even one as depressing and frankly, unbelievable as his. Then again, the concept of what [i]was[/i] and [i]was not[/i] believable took a very strange turn for the worse not too horribly long ago for him. Thinking on it, the same manner of revelation smacked him across the face a few years ago, when a whole different type of recently dead people shambled into a big redneck bonfire party he was attending and turned his concept of "normal" on its head. How he survived that encounter was beyond him. Perhaps the very instincts that he hated within himself, his capacity to be a killer, saved his ass that day. It allowed him to survive and help others, but it bore down on him. Maybe this was how people needed to be to survive in his timeline. He hated it. 

	James was just about to respond to Andromeda when Gilbert began to speak. It seemed Shakespearean in delivery, despite the common selection of words, as if he were the Sovereign Deity of Movie Ushers, come to alert people that the film was over and there was no Marvel-esque scene in the middle nor the end of the credits. Hell, James himself almost felt like leaving the grounds, until the tall, swarthy Emendator looked in his direction and indicated that there were goodies specifically set aside for the young'uns. 

	The look upon his face was similar to a deer caught in headlights, except with a mouth stuffed full of candy corn. He bobbed his head up and down, managing to get out a muffled, [color=indianred]"Um hmm!"[/color] and dropped back down underneath the curtain skirting the cart. Sure enough, there was a box just full of paper lunch sacks, bulky with various goodies and treats. He hastily began passing them out while trying not to choke on the mass-produced confectionery goodness that mortals knew as Candy Corn. When the area became a little less crowded, he responded to the question set to him just earlier. [color=indianred]"Miss Andromeda? Love me that book, by the way - hot damn classic - but uh, Miss Andromeda? If'n you wouldn't mind so much? Me an' Sophia's timeline ain't exactly the best o' Southern Hospitality, umm... I give ya details later, but one thing about it: Humanity damn near died out. Dead folks killed off almost all of the livin', and a lotta the livin' wanna use up and deplete the rest of 'em. It's like Hell, Miss A, less you got good friends."[/color] He shuddered reflexively, and wondered how his people were doing back in Georgia. He sure as hell hoped they made it out of there.