[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://68.media.tumblr.com/c6f0f86d13839f8542e4b754c251da73/tumblr_ojog8uNf9k1qdhps7o1_r1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Headland: E. Main Street, E8 (outside of the Hordebuster) -> E7
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	[color=4682b4]"For the love of [i]GOD AMELIA STOP HELPING ME[/i]."[/color] It wasn't the first time that Ash had taken an injury in the field before. Take away the fact that they all were technically "in the field" at all times. It might be closer to say that this was, without doubt, the first time that the he was afraid that he would survive the firefight only to be killed by the medical attention. Getting shot seemed like the easy part. 

	[color=4682b4]"Amelia. Thank you, Amelia. No, really. Don't worry about it. Just please stop beating the crap out of me."[/color] Ash pulled himself to his feet and accepted the pack containing the brunt of his belongings. It was definitely not his day. He had lost much recently, but he still had his mission. And now, part of that mission had been fulfilled. Jack got his family back. Damn if that wasn't worth taking a bullet for. Now the problem was getting it back out. He nodded hopefully, then looked to Amelia once again. [color=4682b4]"Hey, I don't want to go climbing if I don't have to. Could you please get me the gear shift knob off of ol' girl here?"[/color] he patted the side of the Hordebuster, a twinge of sadness heard in his voice. It was like he lost a friend. 

	Now standing under his own power, Ash pulled the strap to his pack over his uninjured shoulder and recovered his rifle. He didn't want to leave the 'Buster, but he had to. It was as good as dead. Ash's responsibility was to the living. Especially the very recently living, like the child a number of meters in front of him. He started the walk from the lifeless rig that was once his second home, moving toward those he cared about. And Genevieve. Just before he cleared the Hordebuster, Ash reached up and placed his hand lovingly upon the machine's hood. He winced in pain from the effort, but it was something he felt he had to. Taking a second, he pressed his forehead to the rain cooled metal and whispered a heartfelt, [color=4682b4]"Thank you. Thank you so much."[/color] He would leave part of himself there, but only part. They had to go. 

	As he neared the station wagon where his people were, Ash looked to Tatiana. [color=4682b4]"God damn, it is good to see you. Both of you. I'd hug the stuffing out of you, but I'm a little bit shot right now."[/color] He genuinely was elated to see them. From the look of things, though, the group had made a decision without him. They weren't getting ready to clear and search buildings like he had planned. This looked more urgent, and not just "weather advisory" urgent. Before taking it personally or getting loud, he decided to put some trust in his people. [color=4682b4]"You guys look like you have a plan. Read me in. Jack, you take the lead for now, and if it's not too much trouble, I need a pair of steady hands to pry this slug out of me."[/color] He motioned to the huge, seeping, crimson stain on him. [color=4682b4]"Stitch or two'd be nice, also."[/color] He was ready to make tracks, and fast. But he did need some attending to before he could give any appreciable help to the situation. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/32/45/47/324547e3b7817ea71d71e719e871d78d.gif[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quincy (in house, C9)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	The talk about a lack of painkillers gave Thalia a jolt. This was going to be one hell of a bad day without [i]something[/i] to take the edge off of her impromptu surgery. But she wasn't completely taken in with the medical advice of the guy who lopped her arm away. [color=dc143c]"Gonna have to say no... on that booze."[/color] She actually couldn't believe the words were leaving her mouth. [color=dc143c]"Not while the stitches are fresh. Not unless I get really desperate."[/color] It was one way in which she disagreed with most of her family. Thinner blood could be problematic, and while it looked like Manny did pretty damn good work, she did not need any excess seepage from her very drastic wound. 

	The sudden gift from Alexander did not go unnoticed, either. Thalia gave the newly set bottle of pills on the table a nigh cheerful look, or as cheerful as one could be who just woke up from redneck surgery and only had one hand. That last part was going to be a problem, but in that second she didn't care. [color=dc143c]"Aw, holy shit theah, Mugsy. People'ah gonna think you'ah sweet on me, yeah?"[/color] she said with a measure of happy gratitude, her Boston accent kicking in through the haze of pain that was slowly creeping over. Gingerly, she picked up the bottle of pills like it was sacred, until her face dropped and she spoke the single syllable, [color=dc143c]"Shit."[/color] Reflexively, she held up the stump that used to be attached to her hand and half of her forearm to assist int he opening of the bottle, only to realize that she'd have to work around the child proof cap with her non-dominant hand and her teeth, probably. She exhaled loudly and got to it. She managed to open the thing by pressing it hard against her thigh and turning, first the wrong way, resulting in a chorus of damnits, but then in the right direction to elicit a favorable outcome. She carefully extracted two pills; one which she swallowed immediately, and one which the tucked into a pocket. Capping the bottle was thankfully much easier. 

	In her own way, Beatrice was being supportive. Some people would actually try to say supportive things. Or act in a manner that showed concern. Or at least, not sarcasm. But the application of nothing that might be considered support was actually helpful. It gave Thalia a sense of security, like status quo was continuing. Now, if Beatrice [i]had[/i] done any of those warm and friendly things, Thalia might be suddenly afraid that there was bad news she had to brace for, or that her prognosis wasn't as good as they seemed to suggest. She didn't respond beyond a chuckle and a sustained stare in Bea's direction at first, but finally relented and returned with, [color=dc143c]"Es el código "lamer la tapa" para algo? Porque podría darme una ducha primero, si es."[/color][sub]1[/sub] 

	As soon as the words hit the air, Thalia noticed that it was a little warm in that house. It could be worse, but through the pain and the excitement, she barely noticed that her shirt was sticking to her. She could use a cooling breeze, too, but sealing off the windows was something she understood from a tactical position. Uncomfortable was better than dead, and she was not at her best. On the brighter end, some of Alexander's words came back to her, something about Thana finding other cans of food in the house. [color=dc143c]Go Navy..."[/color] she mumbled. On the one hand, Thalia did, and extremely overtly, call DIBS on those Os. On the other hand, she really didn't want to call a stalemate or anything more than a temporary cease-fire in the all encompassing "O Wars" that had helped keep her in decent spirits over the past year. [color=dc143c]"Alright, Killeh Bea. But you and me's splitting the can. That's that."[/color] 


[hider=Translations]
1	=	Is "licking the lid" code for something? Because I could go for a shower first, if it is.
[/hider]
	



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://media1.giphy.com/media/l2JhAOu0Dz8wsVsS4/giphy.gif?cid=3640f6095bcbd1b677374f762e0b5dda[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Okefenokee: C9 -> C8
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] Survival [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank continued undeterred on his epic quest to help his friend not die in an attempt to throw himself between everyone else and danger. It might even be considered heroic, if the situation were different. If they didn't need every bullet. On the good chance that Hank didn't want to see his friend die. If he kept on like this, he was going to. Rolling the dice enough times was going to eventually result in an unfavorable set of numbers. But Wayne was Wayne. And Hank... wasn't ready to abandon him. 

	The woman that he had just passed made a decent enough observation about slapping a person who was on a cocktail of meds. How she was aware that he was coming down off of a random assortment of pills was beyond him, but such figuring was beyond his capacity for giving a crap right then. Without breaking stride, Hank responded with a matter-of-factly, [color=deb887]"Nope! Not the best thing. Sure as hell is fun, though!"[/color] He predicated his words with an exaggerated shrug, but kept on his path to help out his friend. 

	As he neared both Wayne and the smallish group of dead things shambling at him, Hank called ahead, [color=deb887]"On your six there, Nutjob. If you haven't, oh, [i]killed yourself[/i] by the time I get there, I'm getting my shovel involved in the Dead Asshole meet-n-greet. Hmm?"[/color]