[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/54f902c5-aef8-429b-833d-a643fe7aa7e6.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Headland: E. Main Street, A4, Car (Passenger side back seat)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Perception [/center][hr][hr]

	It was apparent that Ash was duly impressed by the ease with which Jack handled that diaper, once he got past the initial apprehension and actually got to it. He was ready to dig deep into his education and experience as an engineer to mold himself to the purpose, or at least to act as foreman on such a project, but fatherly instincts beat out more scholarly routes in this instance. It was for the best; Ash shouldn't step on toes that way. There was the slightest bit of sarcastic comment inching its way to the surface concerning the whole ordeal which was quickly cut back by a torrent of vomit inching its way up even faster. Luck was with Ash, however, as he was able to force it back down just before it splattered across the floor of the vehicle. 

	As he was certain that the diapering was in good hands, Ash focused his attention outward. The last piece of dying illumination from the day, coupled with diffused moonlight, gave him just enough of an image to correspond with what he was hearing around him: They needed to move, and fast. [color=4682b4]"Hey, Jack? We need to get us and little Jamie here someplace else. This is gonna get real bad, real fast. Didn't Tati say that house,"[/color] he motioned to one nearby that was pointed out earlier, [color=4682b4]"had a solid basement? I say we grab what we can and head that way. Think you and your boy are up for it?"[/color] They were probably better off than he was in that department. At least Ash had a good pistol and one decently working arm in case something unexpected popped up. 



[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 heat and the dark. Depending upon the circumstances, that might not be a bad thing. Indeed it might not be here, except that it was just a matter of time before they start falling over each other, trying for whatever tasks they needed to accomplish to hunker down for the night. Were things different, they would have fallen into the routine that had been adequate to keeping them alive and kicking (except for Mugsy, but she immediately cursed herself for having the thought) for the past year. Thalia had to go and get herself bitten, and then ludicrously high on prescription meds to deal with Civil War style surgery pain. 

	Her head was the slightest bit clearer now. Clear enough to feel embarrassed at some of the actions she had taken recently, and likewise clear enough to be thinking about a way to help out. She was still weak, still shaky, and still under the influence of painkillers, not to mention missing a hand, but she didn't want to do [i]nothing[/i]. Doing nothing got you dead. [color=dc143c]"Hey,"[/color] she said to anyone who would listen, [color=dc143c]"My pack, fireplace."[/color] Okay, so she wasn't doing the bast job ever with communicating her point just then. She slowed her words and shifted her can of O's to one side, [color=dc143c]"If someone helps me, to the fireplace, and grabs my pack... I can get us light. Heat rising in the chimney, crack a back window, air circulation. Minimal exposure at night. Fire will actually, cool us down. Give us light."[/color] Slow, deliberate words. Not that she really needed cooling down on account of the blood loss. Point of fact, she would likely still need the blanket. But everyone else looked like they were ready to melt. It had been a hard day all around. It would probably be harder tomorrow. But right then, with a little assistance, she could try to help those who had helped her. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/12999738-8626-45f0-a9bb-32db85f056ed.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Okefenokee: E3
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] Hunting, Scavenging, Survival [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank looked at his friend with an expression that was part wonder, part incredulity as he set about piecing together a makeshift torch out of things that he had on him. It wasn't a bad idea at all, having some light when exploring a new spot. One doesn't want one's face eaten by dead people, now does one? Nope, not a bit. However, having been the man's constant companion for about five years now, the fact that Wayne was asking him for a lighter made him wonder about his sanity more than his habit for speaking to things that weren't really there. 

	That last part probably wasn't fair. Hank knew very well the personal hell of seeing things that weren't real. Far better than most, it was his own tiny Hell for a while there. If that was how his friend coped with things, it wasn't his place to judge him too harshly. Still, he couldn't let the request go. [color=deb887]"Yeah, that's good thinking, Wayne."[/color] he said, dropping to a knee and opening his pack. He pulled out a full sized security issue flashlight and clicked it on for just a second, inspecting the contents of the backpack very briefly, and grunted out a quick, [color=deb887]"Here we go..."[/color] He extinguished the light and held out one of his disposable cigarette lighters to Wayne. [color=deb887]"Real sensible there, Maldonado. Save the batteries on my [i]Maglite[/i]."[/color] There was more than a touch of sarcasm in the sentence. He shook his head. The lighter fluid was already on the rag, so there was no point in wasting it. And truthfully, they probably should save the battery life. No telling when he would find fresh ones again. 

	Being as Wayne was the guy with the light source, Hank decided to stick close to him. His pack found its way onto his back, and one of his hands was filled with the grip of a Smith & Wesson pistol. While his unstable cohort took to the scene in front of them, Hank kept his attention to the ground and the area around them. Standard covering procedure, altered of course to account for the fact that they were in the middle of an apocalypse with previously unforeseen dangers lurking. [color=deb887]"Area looks clear."[/color] he advised in low tones, [color=deb887]"No recent movement that shouldn't be there, either. Let's go knock."[/color]