[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/5625b0e2-eb6d-4da8-b64e-f8426bbd176f.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	Ash has tarried too much, waiting on others to deal with the doctor first. It was possibly pride on his part, but despite having arrived where they were supposed to after a [i]long[/i] time coming, he still felt the desire to leap in before anybody else in his group had to. Ash was not happy when the reins of leadership were forced upon him by the passing of Lt. Colonel Leann McCormick, but he accepted them because someone had to. Ash was always a better Executive than a Commanding Officer. He had done a bit more maturing during that time, however. These were his people, and they were supposed to join with the people in Mexico Beach. Granted, he didn't know it was going to be this well established. From the way Thana spoke about her father, she might not have, either. So what it came down to was a single question: Did Ash trust Thana's people? 

	A lot could have changed in the time that she had been back to this place. But her family was still in charge. Plus, they were being treated fairly so far. Well, in fact. As long as they were not being fattened up for the slaughter, literally or metaphorically, this appeared to be on the level. And being out in the world, losing all that they had lost, had made him a little more suspicious than the situation fully warranted. This is what he told himself. 

	Okay, he wasn't first. Nor second. But he was next. Fixing a mindset of protocol for a physical exam when being established to a new command, Ash stepped forward and behind the screen. He nodded to the Doc and acquiesced to the examination with full, detached compliance. Blood draw, check. Hair, face, teeth, skin. Heart rate, blood pressure, hernia. Standard stuff. The last year or so had been brutal, exacting a psychological and physical toll on them all, but at the end of the exam, Ash was apparently none the worse for wear, at least as could be gathered from an initial examination. 

	[color=4682b4]"Thanks, Doc."[/color] he intoned rather stoically, and accepted his lime green wristband. [color=4682b4]"Trade war stories sometime."[/color] He returned to the main group with a steady gait, taking note of those that were being separated from the rest. Amelia was one of them. Yellow wristband. From what the doctor had said, they were trying to keep parasites out of their settlement. There were a few that could be found out readily from an exam like that. He couldn't think of any that were outright fatal. Ash took a moment to lock eyes with the woman and give her a reassuring nod. They were going to be okay. One way or another. 

	 As he was moving to his seat, Ash saw the hazel-eyed girl getting up to take the next spot. They both stopped, looking at each other for a second before continuing to their respective destinations; Ash to sit, and Thalia behind the screen. To Ash, it really looked like she wanted to say something. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e5a2acd6-4a43-4fdf-81a0-ae19c80e184c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=dc143c]"Sold."[/color] Thalia spoke dryly but quietly in response to Beatrice's mildly sarcastic counteroffer. Continuing with a matter-of-fact tone, she continued, [color=dc143c]"We'll talk later."[/color] And why not? Access to a shower opened up options. 

	When Beatrice came back from her examination, Thalia noted that she had a green wristband which apparently meant that she could rejoin the rest of the group, unlike a select few of the others. Whatever they had, it wasn't enough to put them behind sealed plastic or booted out of Mexico Beach, so she figured it probably wasn't so bad. But she still wanted one of those green tags. To hell with whatever those people had wrong with them. She started to rise, eager to get it over with, but leaned back in her seat as she noticed that the Army Captain had moved just a little faster than she did. Luckily, his visit wasn't very long. Before someone else got the big idea to go next, Thalia made her move. 

	Army Captain took a little longer getting back to his seat than she expected. She managed to lock eyes with the man, just for a moment. She had questions. This was the only person still alive that she knew of that personally knew and associated with four people she had genuinely cared about; her cousin Alicia, uncle Caesar, Shieldbitch Bridgette, and teacher Astrid. Fine, talk later. Exam now. Thalia continued to the medical staff and kicked things off with a good, old-fashioned blood draw. After the physical punishment she had endured over her lifetime, and especially in recent years, a jab with a needle didn't even register. She then stripped down and allowed the doctor to give her a look. 	

	Thalia wasn't really a self-conscious woman. Not usually. There had been a bit of a hit taken to her confidence since losing a hand and half of her forearm, granted, but she knew that there was going to be an adjustment period. In the world today, concepts like "an adjustment period" had a nasty way of getting one killed. So it was a problem. Mostly, it was the amount of damage that her body had taken - the same reason that she was a little hesitant to fully disrobe in front of new people (at first) in the shower room. Bullet wounds, stab wounds, poorly stitched cuts, all of which left scars. Some much older than the apocalypse, some more recent. From the look of the woman, she had lived a horrifying life. Add to that the missing limb, and one might mistake her for a victim. 

	Or just maybe, a doctor with military experience might see her scars and recognize the particulars of each and every one of them. They were from fighting. Many times, fighting for her life. The fact that she was still alive meant that she was a killer. She might be trouble, to someone else's observations. If she had to put a preference on it, Thalia would rather be thought of as "trouble" than "victim". All the same, she practically stared down the doctor as he did his fast and thorough examination of her. One mention of her scarring in a negative light, or a condescending one, and she was ready to do... something. Blow up at the man, uppercut him, she had no idea. Thalia was a bright-eyed, coiled spring for a moment there, almost daring him to say something. She was a damn good boxer, once upon a time. Used to train others in the Familia Gonzalez method of giving someone a beating. It was a pressure style and she was a switch-hitter, so her left would still be [i]devastating[/i]. 

	But it never came. Doc didn't say a word until after the tests were over and she was pulling her robe back on. [i]"Alright you can stop giving me the stink eye and get back to your group," Doc says with a light chuckle.[/i] Green wristband for her. She felt a little foolish. Unconscious defense mechanisms up for nothing. Thalia returned to her seat and flopped down next to Beatrice. [color=dc143c]"If this place is legit, chica, I could use a couple days to just sleep. Well, [i]after[/i]."[/color] 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/70c9e764-6526-4dfa-be47-b42aa3a5b384.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Wayne was usually the type to rush in where angels feared to tread, but the little lady with the accent that Hank usually heard coming out of the bad guys from those Cold War movies he was so fond of took the first go-around with the doctor. Well, good for her, getting her shit handled first and foremost. [i]Then[/i] Wayne, who did not go to his exam without comment. Truth be told, Hank was damned curious about the contents of that black box, too. Especially since the platinum blonde lady that his PB was ogling earlier had been the one to bring it in, and it was apparently meant for him, specifically. 

	Was he getting something from his belongings back, like that younger guy got his dog tags? He couldn't think of anything that was an approximate size and shape to fit in the little black box that could be in his pack. Maybe he was Mexico Beach's One Millionth Customer, or something. Welp, only one way to find out. As soon as a break in the shuffle of people going up there manifested, Hank made his move. 

	For probably the first time in his life, Hank seemed eager to sit in the chair earmarked for people about to get stabbed by a hypodermic. Like Wayne, he was formerly a resident of a New York [s]Loony Bin[/s] Mental Health Facility, so these tests were something that he had just gotten used to. It had been a while, but it seemed like old hat. Like riding a bike, except you don't get anywhere and no one has any fun. Ever. Well, except him, and right at that moment. After his blood is drawn:

	[i]Miss Mary picks up the box and hand it to Hank. "Daytona said to hand this to you." It is an old black plastic VHS case, on the spine is a white label that says Lazy Town.[/i]

	Confusion hit Hank for about three seconds, until he remembered the words spoken by the Padre on board the bus earlier. It was at that moment that the former Sheriff fully understood the concept of the phrase, [i]"Shit-Eating Grin"[/i]. He bounded over to the doctor, VHS in one hand, the other ripping off his borrowed clothes. Hank was almost behind the screen by the time he had pulled his hospital gown off of himself, raring to go. [color=deb887]"Heh... If we could, Doc?"[/color] He tried to remain calm and respectful, but the kid in him was begging to see what was on the tape. [color=deb887]"Can we, ah, can we floor the pedal on the exam? I just found out I've got shit to [i]do[/i]."[/color] The grin was still on his face and he was bobbing his head up and down in affirmation like a madman.

	It wasn't as fast as he would have liked, of course. 

	[i]Doc takes a step back. "Oh, that's fun. Been close to that Hadrian fellow?" he asks before sighing. "You got lice, going to need you to go join him and the others for now."[/i]

	 [color=deb887]"Woah. Hold up there, Chief. Sportacus [i]gave me[/i] head lice and now we're stuck together for a while?"[/color] He began to laugh a devious and not well contained laugh. [color=deb887]"And it's... not even my birthday. Thanks, Doc!"[/color] He accepted his yellow wristband like a badge of honor and made for the separate group of people with like wristbands. On the way, he diverted a couple of meters to grab a wheeled AV cart that contained an older model television and VCR. He looked back over his shoulder, [color=deb887]"You guys mind?"[/color]

	The affirming nod from the Doc was all he needed. He rolled the unit over to the Quarantine Within the Quarantine and pulled a chair up right next to his good buddy Hadrian. Before sitting down, he called over to Wayne, [color=deb887]"Head lice! No big, they'll probably just slather us down with mayo. Or shave us bald."[/color] Shrugging, Hank popped in his cassette and grabbed the remote. He thunked heavily in the chair and hit PLAY, anxious as a kid on Christmas. 

	Once the tracking leveled out and those annoying bits of horizontal static cleared away, Hank (and Nigel, and as a matter of consequence Hunter and Amelia) was greeted by the surreal image of the "[u]Lazy Town[/u]" opening theme:

[center][hider=Lazy Town][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3ULIbUkJkg&feature=youtu.be[/youtube][/hider][/center]

	At first, the sheer seeming randomness of it all was more than a little confusing. That was, until he heard the line, "[b]And Sportacus saving the day[/b]". Hank was shockingly amused, quite possibly beyond the capacity for facial expression for long seconds; point of fact [i]all of them[/i] until the intro was over and the episode began. Hank tittered, chortled, scoffed, and or generall laughed in a manner so off, so ugly as to sound like he broke something. He leaned in to Nigel and exclaimed, as if claiming a great victory over life, [color=deb887]"Oh. My. [i]GOD[/i]. Worth it. Worth it. If Doc had just diagnosed me with Ass Cancer, it would still, [i]totally be worth it[/i] there, Sportacus. Sit back and enjoy there, buddy. I think he's about to, ah... yeah, regale us with his oh so famous "[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZMvDPdopYg]Sportacus Move[/url]".[/color] 

	Wiping a tear away from his eye, he wistfully declared, [color=deb887]"Man, I'm just sad I had to go through an apocalypse to see this. Jesus-Horatio-Zaknafein-Gutierrez-[i]Fucking-Christ[/i], this is awesome."[/color] Smiling back to his survival buddy, Hank informed him, [color=deb887]"Oh, don't worry. I think there are at least four more episodes on this tape. [i]Are you not entertained?[/i]"[/color]

	Reflecting upon it ethically, Han was pretty sure that, if there was indeed a Hell, he was very likely going there when someone (probably Nigel) killed him. Reflecting upon it logically, he really didn't give a rat's fuzzy hindparts right then.