[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://st2.depositphotos.com/5326338/8137/i/450/depositphotos_81379998-stock-photo-actor-jason-momoa.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Main House -> Kitchen House) 
[b][color=sienna]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	The whole thing was too close in timing. Gilbert had his doubts. Not about Alicia's condition; much like the Carny Folk he was able to recognize an Ascension when it was described to him. How [i]they[/i] knew was a matter he wished to discuss, and greatly. Despite the generally pleasant visage he presented to the world around him, Gilbert gripped the stock of his rifle tightly enough to whiten his knuckles. It then occurred to him that he was still armed. Well, he had the option of jogging back to the Mill and putting things away, or going to the Gate and putting address to his concerns about their knowledge of affairs he [i]thought[/i] were limited to Emendators and Paradoxes. True, the voice in his head promised answers this evening, but if the safety of Ville au Camp or any of its residents was in question, he was obligated to act upon his concerns. 

	Exiting the Main House found him staring across the grounds. Through the trunks of slender trees and the parts of clear space that allowed view to the main road, he glimpsed the convoy of trucks belonging to the Carnival making their way down to the clearing across from the Kitchen House. That would put him even farther away from the Mill. So be it. There wasn't a law that said he couldn't carry firearms into his own Kitchen House, and if there was, there wasn't a soul that was going to try to stop him and even fewer that might succeed. So he was going to pack two lever-action rifles while venturing toward the Kitchen House. No problem. From inside, he could keep an eye on what the Carnival was up to and take care of some business for himself. Apparently, Emendators were not above peering through windows to spy on people. 

	Gilbert rounded the lot around the Kitchen House and moved to ascend the ramp. There was a decent amount of urgent work that required his attention right then, especially considering the time was advancing nearer to mid-morning. From the porch, Gilbert could see a total of three Paradoxes: Faith, Andromeda, and Sophia. It seemed that his pressing business might have to include them, too. Best to get them involved sooner rather than later. He called to them, [color=sienna]"Ladies, if I may have your attention?"[/color] He gave a warm, inviting smile and held his arms out as if gathering the attention of a much larger group of people. The rifle in his hand, matching the one sheathed on his back, belied the inviting look on Gilbert's face. Nevertheless, he continued. [color=sienna]"The Carnival will take a good while to set up. I believe we would just get in their way right now. In the meantime, I would like to invite you inside - we can keep an eye on them from there and stay out of their way. But more importantly..."[/color] Gilbert nodded back into the building, [color=sienna]"I am making pecan pancakes. Maybe sausages. Come along."[/color] Gilbert stepped inside of the Kitchen House and set himself to finding a suitable frilly apron. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=indianred]James Grady[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://home.bt.com/images/hap-leonard-james-purefoy-136416888779002601[/img][hr][b][color=indianred]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Main House, Room 206 -> Room 209)
[b][color=indianred]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	Taken up. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. James wasn't sure if he bought it, but who was he to question the assessment of someone who had been alive (or aware of his life) since before recorded history? It just didn't sit right with him that Alicia went for over a [i]year[/i] of additional training, only to let go of everything now. He didn't get it. Probably never would. Was this his own future, eventually? Sooner or later, would he have some change of mentality that would cause him to explode in a flash of light and leave a couple of his more personal items behind for others to mourn over? Or in this approximation of life, who would care enough to mourn in the first place? Alicia was the closest friend he had there. Who else might care if he lived or died? And WHY was he the one who lived again, when he was a damaged soul. Surely Alicia was so much more useful to the cause than himself. 

	James looked at the cameo in his hand. He had seen it on Alicia many times in life. He wasn't a firm believer in her faith or anything, but he clasped it around his own neck nonetheless. He picked back up the discarded picture that she had handed him earlier, just before the Ascension (or whatever it was supposed to be) and stuck it into the front pocket of his overalls. The former was something to keep with him. The latter was something to keep safe, tucked away in his room. 

	The heavy sigh that he let out seemed to creep into every part of the room in which he stood. James had seen this woman die once. It left an impression. This was different. He had already mourned her, Lord knew that he had. There was a brief period in this ...afterlife... or whatever it was, that he got to see her again. She took away some of his pain, if only part of what he felt for her. 

	[color=indianred]"Aight there, Taco Belle,"[/color] he said to an empty room, [color=indianred]"If'n this is legit, and if you just takin' your leave for the next go around, that means I gots a damn good chance of seein' you again. Keep a eye out fo' me. Yo might not know it, but friends like us ain't gonna just leave it at this."[/color] James knelt and recovered her bottle of tequila, something she had promised they were going to share anyway. This was something he would sample for himself later while remembering his friend fondly.

	James set his cowboy hat back upon his head and stepped out of the door. He would insist upon volunteering to help clear the room out when it was called for, but right then there was a sense of melancholic finality. He peered back into Alicia's room, tipped his hat, and spoke his last goodbyes. [color=indianred]"Be seein' you, Miss Gonzalez. Promise."[/color] The door closed with a quiet clicking sound. It seemed to trigger a flash of silent tears from James. He loved that woman like a sister, and though he would never be family in the traditional sense, he was simply grateful to have been a part of her life. Two of them actually, however briefly. 
	
	With heavy footfalls, James turned away from the room and headed to his own on the same floor. He crossed over the porch and past Alexandra's room, stopping at his own just long enough to drop off the picture and bottle. There was still a week of "down time" and a mysterious carnival that had appeared. Closing the door to his room from the outside, James looked blankly toward the stairs leading down and out of the Main House. 

	[color=indianred]"Now what?"[/color] he said aloud. It sounded equally sad and ominous.