[hr][hr][center][h1][color=662d91]Alexander Polawski[/color][/h1]
[img]https://i.giphy.com/media/TmVhZ9LAYwUrm/giphy.webp[/img]
[/center]
[hr][center][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b] Camp Mexico Beach: Quarantine (Conference Room)
[color=662d91][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A[/center][hr][hr]

Alexander never got used to having those flashback-moments where he had no idea where he was or what he did, and probably never would. Few that ol' Mugsy knew before the End Times had gotten used to or over having those moments, but damn if some of them were good at hiding it from the outside world. Normally Alexander counted in that category, but not so much today. Alexander looked to his side to find Thalia helping him along, assuring him nothing bad had happened. 

Nothing too bad had been said. 

[color=662d91]"Okay...must be the exhaustion or something..."[/color] Alexander flatly said to Thalia, getting helped into a chair for him to relax his old bum in. He gave her a tired smile, looking in brief surprise at the coffee cup that was his...was it? [color=662d91]"Thanks Thalia, you're an angel to ol' Mugsy."[/color] Alexander took the cup and held it firmly in both hands, trying to convince himself that it was indeed his own cup. His hands however didn't completely agree with him, shaking ever so slightly as he held the cup tightly, almost unnoticable. 

That's when the intervention began. One by one, the crazed-looking guy with the smaller group began his rant about everyone in the room. Everyone including his group; Beatrice, Thalia, Manny, and himself. Alexander 'Mugsy' Polawski, the veteran. Wayne's description of Alexander was short, but spot on. Alexander didn't deny it, he really did have some deep shit of various issues, formalized by some clever egg-heads safe home in the Pentagon as PTSD. He'd seen shit worse than your darkest nightmares, things he'd never wish upon the worst of his enemies. But Alexander never spoke of it, never giving anyone a hook for them to cling their doubts about him onto. And now Wayne had done that very thing, after Alexander had had his moment. 

Alexander's hands started shaking more, the cup in his hands spilling some of the coffee onto his robe and legs, as his eyes were locked into Wayne. Why did he have to say those things, those horrible things? [color=662d91]"I don't like that guy...He's full of shit, I'll tell you."[/color] Alexander managed to whisper through gritted teeth, all his strength in that moment forcing his hands to not shake as they did. This was the very reason he liked his people; Manny might have asked some questions, but they always knew when to back off. Perhaps Alexander lacked the strength that Ash showed by talking to his people? Perhaps he was too old and broken to be helped? 

Perhaps he was simply scared. Fear, fear was one hell of a friend to be stuck with.

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#B8860B]Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper[/color][/h1]
[img]https://media.giphy.com/media/tQtw3zR39TOJq/giphy.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=#B8860B]Location:[/color][/b] Camp Mexico Beach: Quarantine (Conference Room)
[color=#B8860B][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Basic Psychology, Teaching [/center][hr][hr]

It looked like Nigel "Hadrian"'s attempt at pleading to the common sense of the Conference room had failed to spur people into action. Typical, people never listened to him. As he had taken some steps towards Beatrice and Hunter on the floor, the two had so far not given up in their struggle to assert their wills. Hunter couldn't get free from the Amazon's grip, and Beatrice hadn't let go of the slave Helot. And the guard's weren't prepared to do anything. Great, just great. 

Nigel "Hadrian" was ready to intervene personally in spite of what Panama said of him, when Wayne took center stage of the new act in a Greek comedy. It was in true fashion of a dramatic play, with Wayne as the herald who introduced each character to take part in tonight's viewing. Everyone from his own beloved Hank, to Ash the leader of the bigger group and finally Wayne himself, they were described in a short but accurate manner that surprised even Nigel himself. But more than that, it was adding onto the pile of things that annoyed him about his group. So he was nothing but a stuck-up Roman who occationally was "badass"? Nigel at this point planted his face into his palm, the other crossed over his chest as support for the first. 

[color=#B8860B]"Why...why do I even try?"[/color] the Neo-Roman questioned himself, looking up at Wayne as he finished his tirade of exposition, before he shifted his attention to the new events of that night. Beatrice and Hunter were still going on the floor, Hank was being his pure self, Ash were making a sure speech to his group worthy a Roman Senator, while Erica was trying to calm Nigel down. Nigel took a deep, deep breath in while looking at Beatrice and Hunter for a moment. Was there any good way of ending this conflict? Going in and forcing them apart as he had originally planned seemed less good of an option as things were cooling down, and plenty of others had already gone over to talk to them. To Nigel, the best option seemed in his experience to stay back and observe for a little longer. If his presence re-ignited the fuse, then his absence was the most effective. 

[color=#B8860B]"...I really hope so, Erica. If not, he'd best head Hank's advice. Never thought I'd say that about Hank."[/color] Nigel told Erica, giving the room one last look while he tried to calm down while walking over to Erica, slowly. Though Hunter wasn't the only one who should listen to Hank. The Wayne had spoken about the whole room, only the gods knew how'd they react. Nigel sat down beside Erica, resting his head in his hands again and rubbing his face. [color=#B8860B]"And where's the Athenian priest when he'd needed..."[/color]