[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a0522d]Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://fanbolt-fanbolt.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Jason-Momoa.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=sienna]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Carnival Setup) [b][color=a0522d]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center] The woman, conversing seemingly to herself, was secondary in Gilbert's thoughts as Andromeda spoke. The mention of The Dice drew him fully into the here and now with his student Paradox. He cocked an eyebrow as she poured out her theory about the three Laundry Sirens' song, then nodded in consideration of her words. He remembered what they were singing, though he didn't give it another thought while they were in front of him. He was admittedly more concerned with the fact that they were there, rather than possible ulterior motive for their presence. There were liberties taken by the carnival that bothered him, and that irritation prevented him from viewing certain things objectively. Even if Andromeda was totally wrong with her assessment of the situation, it was a harsh reminder that he was losing precisely that objectivity. Such a mistake has led to the loss of life before; he should have known better. And he was glad that someone was doing what he should have been - thinking and observing. For this reason, he spoke a quiet but heartfelt, [color=a0522d]"Thank you, Andromeda."[/color] While she might not understand the full reason why, he projected sincerity. Even if these carnival people did have motives that ran to the sinister, Gilbert was being stupid. And impatient. He was better than this. But to the topic at hand, [color=a0522d]"You believe that the Powers That Be here are trying to send some sort of pre-meeting message? Or that others are attempting to communicate, if I am understanding you."[/color] He sighed. For all he knew, she was entirely correct. Gilbert was not about to dismiss any ideas at this time. In a way, it was hopeful. [color=a0522d]"This could be a good thing. Their people came here hoping to meet with Evelina, or so they have said. They may believe a possibility exists that she will return here. For this reason I hope that you are correct, though something very compelling would have made her think that going after The Glasses was a wise decision. There are lines that even Emendators are loathe to cross. We have good reasons."[/color] He reached out and lay a hand on her shoulder, [color=a0522d]"Keep listening. Come to me if you learn [i]or need[/i] anything."[/color] With Giosue gone, they were stuck exactly where and when they were, so searching for Evelina in the timelines was not possible even if they knew exactly when and where she was. All they could do for the present was sit tight, gathering what information they could by the means at their disposal, and wait until nightfall for anything resembling a straight discussion. But in the meantime, a nagging question assailed him, birthed of unaddressed details from just previous. Turning to Ruthie, Gilbert inquired, [color=a0522d]"Madame? If it isn't improper of me, does this 'Pete' have a last name?"[/color] [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) [b][color=cd5c5c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center] James gave Sophia a wide grin and a tip of his stetson before grabbing something heavy and getting to work. Let the grown-ups talk among themselves. In James's experience, one could gather a wealth of information (and from a different perspective) speaking with the grunt workers. It was his within personal history anyway, back in his native timeline and span of his natural life, to work hard for a living. Even when the world turned to a zombie infested wasteland, he was a man who worked the land, hunted, and made sure everyone was fed. Whether these roustabouts knew it or not, he was one of their kind of people. Well, ethnic and cultural differences notwithstanding. There seemed to be perilously few persons of color that he had seen so far, and the lady in charge was easily the whitest person he'd seen up close. Ever. That mental observation down, he thought to Andromeda. She was having some difficulties with the presence of the carney troupe, and for understandable reasons as fr as it was explained to him. The following thought almost made him slap himself: He had promised to spill the circumstances around his death in an attempt at levity, designed to make her feel a little more at ease. James hadn't quite gotten around to it. He promised himself that he'd do just that the next time they had a quiet moment, whenever that might be. As James put himself to labor, he was surprised to note that he was able to move heavy objects with greater ease relative to his memory of previous ability. It seemed like the past year training with the Emendators was paying off. His work in his previous life was rigorous as well but he had to admit that his nutritional needs were better met and a lot more regular in Ville au Camp than they were in Newnan, Georgia. Additionally, he was rather taken aback at the ungracious way that the Plantation grounds were being described by at least one of the rousties. As he worked, he offered words of encouragement. [color=cd5c5c]"Hey, this here's our home y'all're on about. Never you worry though, this place'll surprise ya. Why, I bet they workin' it out 'tween Bossman and Management, or gonna later on."[/color] James made a mental note to talk to Gilbert about throwing something their way. Favorable view from the working class was is always a good thing. [color=cd5c5c]"So what kinda spots y'all usually hit? When you ain't cruisin' shitholes like this, anyhow?"[/color] He had a good-natured smile as he spoke. Working folks had a way of ragging on one another, he was just fitting in as best he could.