[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/54f902c5-aef8-429b-833d-a643fe7aa7e6.png[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	The words of the elder Martin were a bucket of frigid water on his skin. He said nothing outright. Nothing at all that could be taken as a direct, meaningful answer. He had said enough. Ash braced for the high possibility of never seeing Thana again. It was a almost a mantra, every day reminding himself that life promised nothing, he was not due anything from it, and bad things happen everyday. They all knew that by now. It never hurt to remind one's self of that horrifying fact. The only promises that meant a damn thing were the ones that he made, himself. In the case of Thana, that meant Zebulon, then Mexico Beach. Return the woman's tags. Whatever happened after that, happened. Even if it meant that she was with that tall Texan with whom she had history. Ash could deal with that if it mean that she was safe. And after a year and a half? No blame. None. It was his problem, not hers. But even that was the best case scenario. 

	It wasn't so much what Macsen said, as what he did. Ash recognized much of the older man's daughter in him. The reaching stare, and lack of elaboration. The sudden quiet. There was a lot that he wasn't saying. That gaping hole in the conversation was reinforced by Claire, who suggested that he have a seat, claiming that it "[i]ain't really a good time[/i]". Ash agreed. No, it was clearly not a good time. In the pit of his mind, Ashton understood the truth; not all of it, but enough. He felt his eyes cloud with moisture which he immediately blinked away, subtly reaching up with his free hand to dot the corner of his eyes. Not now. Sudden emotion might be counterproductive. He had people to think about - living ones. [color=4682b4]"Ma'am. Sir."[/color] he intoned to Claire and Macsen, shifting away from his brush with emotion and settling into his nigh trademark stoicism. The Martins weren't the only ones good at that. 

	Ash took his "welcome bag" and turned sharply. His only thoughts lay around keeping himself together and waiting it out until he could speak with Gunny more privately. For the meantime, if his inquiry hadn't ruffled the scene too much, he was perfectly content to walk back, sit quietly, and look out for his people, however he could accomplish that. He made promises to them, too. Just because they made it into the quarantine of a supposedly safe zone, he still had his responsibilities. As he traversed the space from GUnny back to his seat from earlier, Ash was stopped by the abrupt presence of Tatiana. English was her second language and Ash was a little distracted right then, so the full motivation behind her words was lost. Was she asking if he wanted to talk because she heard the conversation between himself and Gunny, or did she have another unrelated reason? 

	[color=4682b4]"I'm good."[/color] he responded flatly. His eyes still betrayed a conflict (if barely), though the rest of him remained solid. [color=4682b4]"Wait."[/color] His voice dropped in volume significantly, [color=4682b4]"Something I should know?"[/color] Better safe than sorry, even now. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/b4807567-17cd-4a97-b25b-1e289021f592.gif[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=dc143c]"Thanks, girl."[/color] said the one armed mestiza as Beatrice set the bag down next to her. She still couldn't move at all, but did risk the mildest of brow raises at her presence. Something seemed to be off about the woman; she was a little more withdrawn since coming to this place. From what she knew of Bea, it kind of made sense. These were new people that they were around, they were all still sorting this place out, and they were virtually defenseless. This was exactly the kind of time that her friend would keep things close. If she needed a some space, Thalia would give her some space. They weren't attached at the hip, and Thalia's feelings aside, she wasn't about to push herself into her bubble. Neither of them were really big on talking about their feelings while braiding each other's hair while eating bonbons. Except for the bonbons part. Thalia could seriously go for some ice cream bites covered in dark chocolate right now, even with a prodigious and wonderful lunch under her belt. Ooh! Or a beer battered, deep fried banana drizzled in yummy, slightly burnt caramel. Or cake. Cake? Remember cake? A bigass slice of double-decker chocolate cake covered in rich, chocolate buttercream and with bacon [i]oh my god bacon fuck yes chocolate cake with bacon dear sweet jesus baco...[/i]

	Someone was talking to her. Thalia snapped back to reality with a serious expression and narrow, intelligent eyes that took in her surroundings. What did they call that guy? Tesla. Yeah, he was just answering her question about the new prosthetic. It wasn't like her to zone out like that, but given a second, she was able to recall what the guy had said. Awfully friendly, to hear him. But she was going to reserve her opinion of these people and this place for a little longer yet. [color=dc143c]"No problem. Thanks."[/color] She had been saying that a lot lately; thanks. Like it was a symptom of something infectious. Thalia wasn't accustomed to this at all. She provided for herself - now assisted in providing for a small group using her fairly specialized skills. But as long as she was getting The Royal Treatment, she might as well go with it. 

	She smiled and leaned in a little, regarding the helpful man for a second. The choice was silver or bronze. [color=dc143c]"Tesla, yah?"[/color] she said with as charming a voice as she could muster, considering the fact that she was [i]her[/i]. [color=dc143c]"You look like you know what you'ah doing. I mean, imagine that you'ah a ninja, and you need to get back in the game. I think your priest might know what I'm talking about. As it pertains to me, I mean."[/color] Okay, she was starting to sound like a crazy person. Maybe that wasn't too far off. [color=dc143c]"I trust you, Tesla. Talk to Padre, do what you do. 'kay?"[/color] 

	The quiet otherwise in the place, aside from the snatches of conversation behind her, allowed the exchange in front of her to be heard. Thalia was trying to keep an eye on the army guy, Ash, anyway. She had questions, and she understood that he had his own questions for her. So she listened. Ash and Gunny's talk didn't last very long, but the impact was massive. She grew expressionless at first, and her mouth slowly started to go agape. The way the talk was hushed by all parties around Ash, she figured it out, too. Thana was her friend. They shared a year together out in the world. They killed a lot of people who deserved it, together, the first day that they met. One in particular. The rest of the year was spent surviving, following her plan to meet up with her Captain. The two were friends, and now her friend was gone. 

	That Captain was right there, though. He was the mission as much as this place was. They needed to have a dialogue. Thalia stood up and took a step in the man's direction. She stopped when she saw that the little Russian ballerina had beat her over to him. Fine, now was not good. Instead, she retreated back to the chair and picked up the bag, then tried to be small and unassuming, making her way over to the coffee. 

	Thalia looked down at where her right hand used to be. She was staying here. She had to. Otherwise, what was the point of the last sixteen months? She was at least staying here for as long as it took to get back to her fighting best. Yes, she had her own mission, and it had been five years in the making. She needed to get stronger, like she did in Fairburn. She was carried in half dead and walked out a bigger badass than ever before. This needed to happen here, too. She needed to get started, otherwise it would throw dirt on Thana's memory. 

	But first - Coffee. 

	Then the Newnan Team. She was making this work, damnit. One way or another. Only the hand Death herself would stop her.





[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/dc4b11f8-7b28-49db-bc00-de00026ad91e.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Any fool could see a ton of drama unfolding in the room all at once. That kid - well he wasn't really a kid but he [i]was[/i] younger than Hank - that kid had to say something disturbing to the man in charge at the front of the room. He didn't quite get exactly what was being said, having NOPED away just as it began, but it brought the overall mood of the room to a crashing new low. Hank could see the effects of whatever it was ripple across the room, subtly and not-so-subtly changing the expressions of the Mexico Beach residents. Oh, that uptight military man knew how to kill a buzz, that's for damn sure. However, as Hank didn't know exactly what the score was, he was definitely keeping the hell out of it until he did. 

	While the wait for the air in the room continued, he made a quick decision about the contents of his bag. There were clothes in there and he was in a frigging hospital gown and robe. The usually grumpy, presently bald, almost zero-fucks-given former Sheriff realized that he didn't have to strip down to his unmentionables to get into a decent pair of pants. Aloud, he voiced his sudden revelation with a good natured, [color=deb887]"Aw, hell yeah. Score!"[/color] He then stood directly in front of the chair that Wayne had claimed for him and kicked off his hospital slippers, all the while digging through that bag of goodies he got from Auntie Claire. Hank then proceeded to shimmy into a pair of clean blue jeans, hiking up his robe as he went along. It might have looked a little awkward, but it was still within the boundaries of a PG movie (starring [i]Hank, Middle-Aged Man of Action![/i]) and damnit, he wanted to wear pants. To hell with what everyone else was thinking right then. 

	He continued to dress in full view of everyone. It was tasteful, and by tasteful, he did so with the minimum of exposed [i]anything[/i]. [color=deb887]"Hey, Wayne!"[/color] he called, [color=deb887]"These pants are damn near almost my size, too! Whaddayou got in yours?"[/color]