[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/92d5f43a-8b98-4f28-9d91-88707ca27ccf.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	More separations of his group, more time apart. It was bound to happen sometime, even assuming that everything went spectacularly with these people. He would have to hand over the reins to a larger unit and incorporate himself within it. It was part of the plan, so long as he felt that he could trust his people with the settlement. Even then it would be [i]their[/i] decision, not his, ultimately. They followed him because they chose to, not because they had to. That time looked to be drawing to a close. Naturally, Ash had some conflicting emotions about this. He'd been in charge for so long now, he wasn't sure what his identity would be like without that responsibility. Things were funny that way.  

	From his group, Riley and Amelia were shuffled off elsewhere supposedly for parasite treatment. Two of the older guys and the younger soldier were along for the ride as well. He couldn't say much about the quality of character of any of the others in the Yellow Band Club, but he knew that Riley could handle herself well enough. Someone would get a tooth knocked free of its moorings if they got too handsy with either her or Amelia. Also from his group, Jack and Tatiana were together, their nuclear family complete with little Jamie as they spoke quietly in Tati's native tongue. Ash smiled. They deserved a chance. They all did, but looking at things, those three especially. It was a damned miracle that they found each other again, safe and more or less intact. Even that fucking cat. Especially that fucking cat, now that he thought of it. It seemed to have taken a liking to Tatiana. Maybe it had a thing for Russians. 

	The thought occurred to Ash that their time together in the last few months had given them a true gift. Each of his greatly reduced group picked up the basics of the Russian language from Tati. It was not a commonly spoken tongue in this part of the world, especially now that most of the world's population was deceased. They could still communicate, albeit on a basic level, with some hope of privacy. After Ash congratulated the nimble lady on her Oscar Award Nominee performance thusfar, he was going to have to thank her for the tutorial. She was a goddamned treasure, that Tatiana. 

	So the only thing to do now was to sit and wait for a little while longer. Ash's own curiosity about the items at their disposal, coupled with an intense desire to force himself to relax a little, gave him motivation to move about the room. His feet wound up taking him to the collection of vinyl albums, stored next to a functional record player. After sorting through it for a moment, he froze. A sparkle of recognition glinted from his eyes, and he stood holding a short stack of compiled works of The Rolling Stones. One might even have caught a little smile form to one side of his mouth. Even if all this was some bullshit ploy and they had to try to fight their way out of Mexico Beach, damnit all, he was going to listen to some [i]Stones[/i]. 

	He selected one of his favorite albums, "Beggars Banquet" - it didn't contain his favorite song, but overall it was a better listen - and geared up the record player nearby. The first few percussion strikes alerted everyone within hearing distance who knew anything at all about the Rolling Stones that this was the immortal classic, "Sympathy for the Devil". In a manner that might have otherwise been considered uncharacteristic to the man, Ash began to, ever so slightly, bob his head in time to the music. 

	Aside from the obvious reasons of entertainment, to Ash's mind a little music to concentrate on might make conversations a little more private for those who wished to talk quietly. With that in mind, he drew his gaze over in the general direction of Thalia and Beatrice. They might have a little time now to speak. And yes, The Rolling Stones was reason in and of itself. 

	


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/45f8049e-1846-4cc8-9eee-8e4039fdcf20.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Sleep would have been nice. Still promised to be nice after a while, if she could allow herself the luxury of letting down her guard in a new place, surrounded by new people. Even that was punctuated by the fact that she was in a [i]place[/i], and not up a tree or in a smallish, makeshift shelter like the back of a car or storage loft, or even a perimeter-staked camping spot on high ground with a firepit and various foot traps dug in (if she planned to stay for a while). She sure as hell would have felt better being back in Lola's [i]TANK[/i], but that ship had sailed over a year ago. The thought of it brought tears to her eyes. Not the full spillage onto her cheeks, but enough to obscure her vision before she remembered herself. 

	Thalia was not in peak condition, in a strange place in which she was not comfortable, surrounded by more people than she had been around in a very long time. Crying was a stupid idea. A sign of weakness. Her lack of an arm was already doing that nicely. She needed nonchalance and confidence when it was called for, not shows of emotion. Now, confidence she could muster. Even though she wasn't at her best, Thalia was no pushover. Nonchalance was a different story altogether. She needed to [i]do something[/i], otherwise she was going to crawl out of her skin. [color=dc143c]"Heya, Bea..."[/color] she started. Thalia was just about to continue her thought when strange noises issued from somewhere behind her. It took a half second to realize that it was music. Older music. Some of the stuff that her Mom might have listened to. Oh yay, another dad person to think about. Yeah, she had to go and find something to do, right about [i]now[/i]ish. [color=dc143c]"Yah, I'm going to go give that Pac-Man machine a workout. I can't just sit down right now. Wicked fucking pent up. You good?"[/color] If she wasn't particularly good, maybe a rousing game of "[i]Make the Yellow Circle Eat the White Dashes & Avoid the Multicolored Klansmen[/i]" might raise her spirits. Thalia let her hand linger on Beatrice's shoulder for a moment, but made her move to the electric glow of Pac-Man. 

	The bad news: It still needed quarters. The good news: There were a line of them on the glass already. She carefully picked one up and studied it. It was the first time she had used money to actually procure something since all hell broke loose worldwide. It was a little surreal. She carefully placed a quarter into the slot, listening to the click and clatter that resulted in a single credit for play on the screen in front of her. Okay, she could do this. It was a simple game, old as hell, and only required the use of one hand to play. She needed to train her left more anyway. 

	Pac-Man: Physical therapy in the Apocalypse. 





[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/208878e4-4653-42b8-9d42-af7376e0b28c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room -> Converted Sauna)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank and Wayne had been Apocalypse Buddies for a while now, even back before the apocalypse actually happened. Maybe it was an exercise in mental preparation, or a sign of their collective lack of faith in humanity. Okay, so maybe Apocalypse Buddies wasn't the best term for them prior, but it kind of fit now. They had heard many of each others stories, both in the nuthouse by means of therapy sessions and afterwards, purely through male bonding. Now that being said, Wayne's recollection of the show was something of a surprise. It probably shouldn't have been. Hank knew that his PB was a family man, back in the day. And Wayne knew that Hank was a family man once upon a time, too. 

	[color=deb887]"Oh, my little girl never forced me to watch [i]this[/i] cra..."[/color] His voice trailed off. A couple of seconds later, he stated flatly, [color=deb887]"Well, shit. I've gone and made myself sad."[/color] Hank let out a huff and shook his head. Lucky for him, at that moment the Yellow Wristband Club was being led out and into a separate room, to await the attention of someone called [i]Shears[/i]. 

	But today was a day to look forward, not backward. The past was part of what made him who he was. He was not bound by it. Boy, did it sting sometimes, though. But speaking of looking forward, Hank took the time to hit the STOP button on the VCR, as he was going to fully acquaint himself with this show (possibly for future conversational ammunition, a thing which was not particularly mentally healthy a practice but was just just funny as hell nonetheless), and fell into line toward the back of his group. [color=deb887]"Bakc after a while, Maldonado! Save me a seat, huh?"[/color] 

	When in the former sauna, Hank found himself a seat and awaited what was likely to be one of the shortest haircuts in his life. It was a concept that he felt like sharing. Oddly, in a rather understanding and level voice. [color=deb887]"Hey, it's alright guys. I mean, don't get me wrong; with a name like "Shears", I don't think they're coming with the mayonnaise treatment, but small price to pay, right?"[/color] He looked to Hadrian and gave him a quick thumbs-up. Even a supportive nod. Fun was fun, and the Sportacus stuff was [i]really fun[/i], but this was something of a slightly more serious note. To Riley and Amelia, he gave an understanding look. [color=deb887]"Gonna be okay, girls. You'll be back to breaking hearts in no time, promise."[/color] It was almost fatherly, in an asshole sort of way. Quickly changing the subject to get minds off of the coming [i]buzz[/i], he opened with, [color=deb887]"So what do you think they serve as a Welcome Aboard meal? I'd settle for a can of hash and some coffee, but fingers are crossed for Crab Boil. Hmm? Seafood fans?"[/color]