[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a0522d]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://occ-0-1722-92.1.nflxso.net/art/80bc8/4fa55a1a549c6e720b7eac87dd14dfd3b6d80bc8.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Main House -> His Quarters: Room 203) 
[b][color=a0522d]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	Gilbert's steps came with just a hair of unsteadiness. He continued to set one foot in front of the other, at this moment oblivious to most of what was going on around him. Even Bartholomew's offer to lend his Paradox gifts to his aid seemed to drill into his head with every syllable. The offer was appreciated, granted, but ultimately pointless. This was the price he paid for stretching his own gifts beyond their intended purpose. You bend the rules enough, they start to bend you back. He waved Bart away, intoning as politely as he could (circumstances permitting), [color=a0522d]"Nothing you can do. Thank you."[/color] He flashed an obviously forced smile and continued on his way. 

	Before very long his mildly distressed boots came to clack softly upon the wood of the Main House's flooring. Just as carefully as he dared to, Gilbert located the nearest steps and made his way to his room on the second floor. He wasn't sure how long this would continue to afflict him, and he did not want anyone else to see him in a compromised condition if he could help it. The Paradoxes might understand, and indeed would see him in worse states as the years droned on, but these Carnival people? No. He didn't know them, they didn't know him, and on the chance that any one of them had hostile of ulterior motive, he did not want to encourage them. 

	Quietly, he turned the key in his lock and swung open the door. He wished at that time only to cover his windows and close his eyes, either to meditate until the pain subsided or take a nap and hope that it left of its own accord by the time he woke. But what he saw scrambled both of those possibilities. It was a note; folded paper with his name written on the outside in Giosue's metered and easily legible handwriting. He stood, staring at it for a moment before placing one hand upon the doorframe for support, leaning down, and snatching it up. Gilbert shook it open and gave it due, serious consideration. After all, what needed to be said in a note that couldn't have been communicated in person earlier that morning? As he read, the look of annoyed incredulity became obvious, were anyone around to see it. 

	[color=a0522d]"[i]...leaving...  blah blah Golgotha... counsel... blah blah indeterminate period in timelines...[/i]"[/color] he read it three times, slowly, before he let his hand hang at his side. With a sigh, Gilbert sat on his bed and rested his throbbing head in his free hand. Though it pained him to do so, the tall Emendator spoke aloud, [color=a0522d]"That bastard. It is not the time for this."[/color] For once in a very long time, The Hat was the sole Emendator in Ville au Camp, otherwise populated by a cadre of baby Paradoxes, and now an unknown factor of carnival folk who outnumbered them a few times over and likewise contained individuals who possessed abilities setting them apart from natural humanity. Very powerful abilities. From the feel of the note that Gio left, he might be gone for a long, long time. Gil was once a great leader - militant and strong, the ruler of the first truly great empire of men. Commander of countless people in conflicts almost innumerable across the millennia. A sharp contrast to the laid-back, casual person he had become over the last couple of centuries or so. He actually enjoyed just basking in what Humanity had to offer, and the natural wonders of the Earth. This... this might have to change that, at least for a while. 

	Him being in charge was a mixed blessing at best for these Paradoxes. He would have to be the Field Marshal once again, filling the roles of all the other Emendators, without help nor advice from the others he had come to rely upon. But he couldn't do any of that until the battle in his head stopped its infernal bombing run. 

	Oh, if Evelina could see him now. 





[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=cd5c5c]James Grady[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/11325d90-1162-4f69-a2f3-7ece57b6cc3c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=indianred]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Carnival Setup -> Kitchen House)
[b][color=cd5c5c]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	The mention from Andromeda that coffee sounded like a good idea was met with direct and optimistic approval from James. [color=cd5c5c]"Hells yeah, coffee sounds good!"[/color] He had noted the color appearing in her cheeks. While unsure as to why she seemed embarrassed about something (because he was fairly oblivious to things of this nature, in general), he didn't want her condition to deepen because of unwanted attention paid to it. Hence, a sudden burst of energetic speech to draw eyes to himself instead. [color=cd5c5c]"Used to run with this Army Cap'n back in the day, right? Man [i]loved[/i] him some coffee. Risk his neck for a cup of instant, if'n he had to."[/color] By context and various obscure hand gestures, it was apparent that he meant in his pre-Paradox life. [color=cd5c5c]"Grim sumbitch could make some [i]hooch[/i], too. We used to get slap tore-up sometimes, when we found someplace we thought was safe an' he had some extra we wasn't usin' for fuel or whatnot... anyways, sometimes he'd joke around sayin':"[/color] James put on a fake serious face and altered his voice to poorly approximate a mild Virginian accent, [color=cd5c5c]"...heh... '[i]I like my coffee like I like my women: ...ground up and jammed in the freezer![/i]'"[/color] 

	He did his best to suppress a giggle, which was to say not very well. [color=cd5c5c]"Nah, he's good people though. Hey, Miss Sophia, you 'member Cap'n Ash? Sometimes, that man actually [i]smiled[/i]. True story."[/color] James grinned as he nodded his head, though inwardly he felt a sense of odd nostalgia. He had good friends, even in the hell that was his timeline. Part of him still wanted to know how they were all doing. 

	He gave Faith a wave as she gave them the information about heading to the Kitchen House, which worked out pretty well for him considering that he was going exactly to that location for his own purposes right that second. Sophia's concern about waiting for Gilbert was noted, although James didn't really have a good answer for her. Luckily, that didn't stop him from from supplying one. [color=cd5c5c]"Dunno. But if he wants java, he need to hurry up."[/color] 

	True to his word, as soon as he made it into the Kitchen House, the first thing James did was set up the drip percolator and get a sizeable pot of strong, black ambrosia going. [color=cd5c5c]"It's them little luxuries you miss, when your world's overrun with walkin' dead folks. Miss Andy, how d'you take yours?"[/color] He hastily added, [color=cd5c5c]"Coffee, not dead folks."[/color]