[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=a0522d]Gilbert Summers[/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]

	So the lady who referred to herself as Ruthie was either amazingly well informed and a good actor, or she was really mid-communication with one of their dead Paradoxes. Gilbert's little test was not infallible, obviously, but it did push the scale more in favor that the lady was on the up-and-up. Moreover, even were she not, Gilbert saw nothing wrong in moving the still fresh remains of the late Peter Keystone just off of the grounds. Even if all it took was a short span of time for his spirit to part the strings holding it to its earthly husk, it was worth the effort. Gilbert would have been happier if he could know beyond a doubt that she was on the level, all things being equal. 

	Gilbert nodded seriously in Ruthie's direction, though his words were for Andromeda. [color=a0522d]"That is the beautiful part of our arrangement. Within this place, tomorrow is an excellent time for most everything. I agree. We will acquiesce to Peter's wishes. "[/color] 

	The feeling of familiarity crept closer to Gilbert, one that he instinctively knew came from another Emendator. It was The Watch, obviously, and he had questions of his own. [color=a0522d]"Many things happened in your absence, actually. Many I may have misinterpreted as something other than courtesy. I am glad we have that cleared up. Perhaps, Giosue, fresher eyes may lend the situation the gravity it deserves. Case in point, this woman - Ruthie - appears to have the passive talent for speaking with the dead. She reports that Peter insists we move his remains from the property. I see no problem with this, but I am open to hear your opinion."[/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]

	Hopefully, the squirrel wouldn't mind a detour before he got hold of sweet, white, sugary goodness packed between two chocolatey wafers, stacked upon each other and packaged in a reusable tube. It was a good investment in the future, though he wasn't sure if the little fuzzy nutbar would know about any of this when the clock struck midnight. Were the animals on the grounds covered by the loop, or were they swept along when everything was reordered? Temporal reconstruction was a headache inducing thing sometimes, and James had zero formal education in the matter. Then again, it could be argued that he had zero formal education in anything, anymore, except to what the Emendators allowed him access. Well, before more throbbing inside of his skull made life difficult for the thinking of it, James turned his attention elsewhere. 

	[color=cd5c5c]"Why thank you, Miss Sophia. I was gonna grab somethin' for General Fuzzy here, but I'm thinkin' on comin' back to that in a minute..."[/color] He changed his direction, veering toward the steps leading up to Management's trailer. The one kid who had been interested in some of their comings and goings and was foremost up that ferris wheel when it decided to dismantle itself; James remembered that his name was Ben. [color=cd5c5c]"Hell of a mornin', innit? Y'all need anything, 'fore I'm out?"[/color] Far bt it for him to be accused of not demonstrating at least the very appearance of Southern Hospitality.