[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 (Room 203) 
[b][color=sienna]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	For a while, Gilbert lay atop his bed. Bedecked in nothing but a pair of front buttoning shorts, the "boxers" of the period, he preferred this time to recline over his covers, exposed to the air of the evening. It was not a decision he made a lot, being as he was a man who had grown to appreciate the various creature comforts that life had to offer. Tonight, he was thoughtful as he drifted toward slumber. 

        A lot had happened over the past handful of hours. The group dynamic had changed. And the house was full again. If he listened intently, he could hear the various creaks and movements associated with an older dwelling such as the Destrehan House supporting residents. It was the quiet reminder of his coming responsibility to these new Paradoxes and the world that he did so love. 

        Gilbert put his hands behind his head and looked over to what was left of the door. If that was a permanent bit of damage, he might be angry. Instead, he contemplated revenge upon one or the other of the people responsible. He briefly considered using his gifts as an Emendator to find out who did it; it was locked away there anyway like some piece of barely recalled trivia he had but to put effort behind to recall, but decided against it for the moment. There was more fun to be had another way. Plus, it would be fixed with the reset. 




[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 (Room 209)
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

        Sleep wasn't coming easy to James. I mean, how could it? His mind was awash with not only the memories of his former life in Walker infested Georgia, but pieces and traces of what he had come to realize were other lives from other timelines. The implications were staggering. James wasn't the philosophical type past a certain point, really. That point has been crossed a while back. This was more of a "buckle up and hang on tight" moment for him. 

        Dead friends to reunite with. A new war for survival to be a part of. Oh yeah, and now he was a frigging Wereboar. [i]That[/i] was some shit right there. Wereboar. He wondered if that full moon deal had any hold on him. Either way, James was sure that he couldn't sleep. Wasn't going to. Not possible, considering what his day had been like. Today took everything he knew or thought he believed and turned it sideways. He might not sleep for ... .. . .. ...zzzzZZzzzZzzzz 
        
        Only the camouflage tuxedo and big, gaudy deer necklace bore witness to the sudden and remarkable bout of narcolepsy-grade slumber that fell over James Mandingo Grady. The situation as a whole and the many questions of the here and now were presently between he and his subconscious to puzzle out until the sun rose over an all new same day.