[hr][hr][center][h1][color=662d91]Alexander Polawski[/color][/h1]
[img]https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9KcoJWQD6-Y/UuaI_GgT5OI/AAAAAAAAHK4/QkwHggLw11s/s800/kills1.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b] Quincy : Inside house (F6)
[color=662d91]Skills: [/color]None[/center][hr][hr]

[color=662d91]"Sorry dear, but no can do."[/color] Alexander had leaned up against the wall on the northern side of the fireplace when Thalia had begun to communicate in her Boston tone, reminding him of a better life up North in a time before the Undead rose up to bite your ass. The Vet respected Thalia, hell he thought she was a good sister in arms to watch your six and trusted her with his life, but he wasn't about to do what she or Beatrice were telling him. Up against the wall and watching Thalia as she managed to make fire, to which he smiled wholly and let out a quiet chuckle of approval, he looked to both of the ladies. 

[color=662d91]"If we open a window, even if just a smidgeon, there's still the real risk of the fire giving off enough light for people to see it. If we want current, the best would be to have in this room, but we can't. Trust me, any lightsource in a dark enviroment makes you stand out like a Christmas tree in August. It kills you..."[/color] Alexander's tone was that of a concerned and stern parent who had been through the exact same thing their child was going through, but couldn't really help them except tell what not to do. The last part was more true than anything, which was why lighting cigarettes was one of the many things that put you on the Sergeant's List of Idiots. It didn't help that Thalia was still on the drug-high, which he knew from experience really screwed with your mind. 

[color=662d91]"I'll be sure to ask and apologize tomorrow, Angel. Just an old Mugsy barking, ya'know."[/color] Alexander said like his old, preferable self at the end, sliding down the wall and scoothing to the side to make himself more comfortable. Manny had a good head on his shoulder suggesting they should take shifts, which Beatrice offered to take first alongside Manny's shotgun. [color=662d91]"Thanks Bea, but don't hesitate to wake me up if you need some shut-eye. It's been a long couple of days, and you need to rest too before the morning if and when we're pulling out of here."[/color] His offer came at the same time as he fiddled around in his storage and pulled out the bed sheet, folding it to work as a pillow. He'd slept in worse places and situations than that, honestly.


[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#B8860B]Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper[/color][/h1]
[img]http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/22900000/Lucius-Vorenus-rome-22923240-350-215.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=#B8860B]Location:[/color][/b] Okefenokee: B4 (Fishing Camp inside) -> B6
[color=#B8860B]Skills: [/color]Scouting, Sword Fighting, Close quarter combat[/center][hr][hr] 

They were make progress. They weren't dying of thrist, hunger, heatstroke or hypothermia, infections or being mauled to death by the walkers, neither then nor in the foreseeable future, to which Nigel would count as a semi-successful part of his campaign to not-dying. They had found supplies and shelter, and hopefully that would be enough for them to weather the night as best they could. But before sleeping could be put on the table as an option, the building still needed to be confirmed Undead-free. While Wayne closed the door behind him, Nigel the Roman went on clearing-duty. 

Nigel "Hadrian" slowly went for the door infront of him, opening it slowly with his left hand while he held his sword ready with the right, ready to defend himself from the unleashed claws of a walker. But the room he entered was clear, dark but clear. He couldn't really hope for anything more than that, and so he just as slowly returned to the main room with the others, of which Erika was jumping up and down for...something. Keeping warm was logically not what she was trying to do, so what? He wouldn't notice the string as he took that oppurtunity to mimick Wayne. Not the talking-to-yourself part, but the other. First the backpacks and satchels came off, left leaning up against the wall. Then his chainmail was taken off in a practiced and well-known method to Nigel Sporticus "Hadrian", and then the leather greaves and vambraces. The sweet touch of "fresh" air against his sweaty skin was worth a dozen sacrifices to Jupiter. [color=#B8860B]"Is there anything up there, Erika?"[/color]