[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 had his moment of open honesty concerning his emotions. While he was not fully closing himself off again, he did assume a more guarded position. This was for a few reasons. First, he did take to notice the look that Tatiana gave him. He had learned to take cues from the people closest to him, people who knew him well. Though he had no idea what earned him the look, he understood that even silent advice from a trusted source speaks volumes. He raised an eyebrow in her direction but likewise said nothing. Later, then.

	Secondly, there was the matter of their [i]guards[/i]. The periodic commentary seemed chosen specifically to be inflammatory, to wear upon people who have already been through some of the worst that their world had to offer. Some of Ash's own words in front of them put his people out there for almost a year and a half; six full seasons with nobody and nothing to help them except for each other. The last monologue from the one called [i]Panama[/i] gave him some unvocalized annoyance, while the taunt from the [i]Major[/i] about "20 percent" was a nihilistic display of cold hostility, being aimed at a group of people who were obviously dealing with their own pre-existing traumas. Waving a flag in front of them that threatened very clearly that only some of them would be allowed to stay. So what made someone worthy in their eyes?

	Ash gave [i]those[/i] thoughts some consideration. The welcome speech they received put this settlement here since the beginning. How many of these people had never had to go through what his people had? Did this bring with it a sense of aristocracy, looking down their noses at the ones that happened across their home after fighting to survive out in the sticks, picking through collapsed houses for cans of salmon and salsa-style tomatoes? Or more to the point of getting the boot, what would be left to scavenge or materials to build with anywhere close to Mexico Beach? It would have been necessary to pick the surrounding radius clean for supplies in the beginning. Being established for more than five years meant that the radius would be substantial, especially with a functional motor pool and a helicopter at their disposal. Getting expelled from the community would probably mean death. [i]Which begged the question[/i]: [u]Was all of this some sort of test?[/u] Get them feeling vulnerable and keep stirring the pot to see how they would react? Or was this a place with a tribal mentality that had to be addressed? 

	Then, of course, there was the look that passed between them after Ash spoke. Maybe it was a good thing that Tatiana punched him and he vented some of his frustrations at the way that life had stabbed it in and broke it off at the hilt. He was thinking clearer now. This place was their hope for salvation from the outside world for a long time. Not a vision of utopia, but a place like their Newnan. Maybe it even was, but with the clash of personalities from the survivors and the guards' commentary, not to mention the stakes for not making the cut to stay, this was becoming another type of survival scenario. So, what did his people need to do in order to survive? 

	For starters, Ash took a look at his people. This place was a community, and most of these people were still keeping to their own groups. It was a good time to... Ash's concentration trailed off for just a moment as he saw Riley and Amelia exchange a gesture of affection. It was warming. Riley's promise not to leave her by herself again was likewise an affirmation of her dedication to her loved ones. Perhaps that was why Ash was puzzled to see Amelia cut an embarrassed expression and immediately leave to go find a book. Considering the number of times that Ash had to bang on the back wall of the Hordebuster, trying to get the two of them to cut down on the decibel level of what he referred to as "Tandem Lesbian Yodeling" with a stern warning of, [color=4682b4][i]"You are giving our position away to the enemy![/i][/color] Yet now one was embarrassed. Ash tried to give the benefit of the doubt to the situation, they were in front of a lot of new people, feeling very exposed, and mild violence seemed to be the order of the day. It just seemed horribly counterintuitive to what they had been saying to one another. And a hell of a time for fluctuating emotions. But as Ash was just getting a rein on his, he declined to comment on it aloud. He did respond to Riley's apology, though. [color=4682b4]"Don't even worry about it. Time has been hard on us. The situation is resolved; I'm moving on. Thanks, though."[/color]  

	(ahem) But back to his initial thought, before getting mentally sidetracked, Ash knew that outside of Quarantine was supposed to be a thriving community. If what was best for his people was to be viewed as individuals that could become part of that community, then it was best to start now. Good leaders led by example. And in the event that they were not allowed to be a part of Camp Mexico Beach, then they had to prepare for that eventuality. Right now they were weak - partly malnourished, under-equipped, and suffering from fatigue based on constant movement and mild paranoia. They needed this time in Quarantine, if only for a period of rest before they were urged to move on. Yeah, the group was comparatively weak right then. They had seven days to get strong and figure out what their next move was afterward, if it came to that. 

	Not tonight. Ashton wanted to make sure that the Newnan survivors had a shot at being accepted, so after a quick [color=4682b4]"Excuse me,"[/color] he stepped in the direction where most of what remained of the Eden Team was gathered. It actually took him a second or two to remember Beatrice's full name, being as it had been a long while since he had used it. As she looked like the lady who was making the decisions for the group, and the only one that spent time in Newnan, he made it a point to speak to her first. [color=4682b4]"Miss Decker? I wanted to say 'thank you'. What you and your team did gave me enough time to round up what survivors I could without being harassed and get them out. I am truly sorry for your losses, ma'am. If it's not too much trouble, could you please introduce me to the people in your group? Again, thank you."[/color] Hopefully, his attempt to be sociable might make an impression on the both the people in Quarantine and those watching them.  

	In a lowered voice, Ash followed up with a quick, [color=4682b4]"Damn fine hit, by the way. Impressive."[/color] 




[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]

	Thalia gave a quiet laugh to Alexander's declaration about her. It was polite, she wasn't scoffing at the man, but she did find his words a little humorous. [color=dc143c]"Ain't a thing, Mugs. I'll tell ya though, that's naht why [i]La Familia[/i] called me Angel."[/color] It sounded a little strange, her sudden change from her native Boston accent to one that marked her from northern Mexico. She gave him a small smile and finished up her thought with the sentiment of, [color=dc143c]"Us cripples gotta stick together, right?"[/color] The woman didn't have anything more to say on the matter, content to keep her words few and direct. The main portion of her concentration was on the room around her, more specifically the people within it. It was a curse sometimes, her psychological prompting toward securing an area and mentally guarding herself against possible threats. It was only reinforced by her formal education and years spent with her father's people. Not to mention her time at her tio's company, or the amusement park [i]full[/i] of wonders to which she had to grow accustomed after the world fell. It was down to the bone now. 

	As she noted the various actions of the new people (new to her, anyway), Thalia absently responded to Alexander. [color=dc143c]"Yeah, they can't all be winnahs, Mugsy. But as long as someone's drawing attention to themselves, it's not on us."[/color] Sometimes just remaining unnoticed was preferable. Especially when one was gathering information about the people around them. Or when one needed to process feelings, flashbacks, or a single moment to themselves but were stuck in a crowd. Wayne's rant might not have been very nice to most of them, but it was opportune. She almost blew it when Wayne, from his recently reacquired recliner, used the phrase "Twat-Rocket". She had to suppress a chuckle at that one, which otherwise might have thrown more attention her way than being a one-armed lady in a hotel robe, offering physical and emotional support to a mobility-compromised Vietnam vet. When [i]that[/i] thought congealed, Thalia had to suppress another chuckle. She couldn't make up a metaphor that twisted if she had tried. 
	
	Yet more than their guards, and oddly more than everyone's new best friend Hunter, Thalia found her attention drifting to the group with that Army Captain in it. The Wayne guy was right, they [i]were[/i] acting like a dysfunctional family. In this instance, she was focusing more on the [i]family[/i] part than the [i]dysfunctional[/i] part. They really were, complete with a borderline violent maternal figure using aggressive tactics to invoke what was [i]probably[/i] a needed talk about feelings from an authority figure who was obviously uncomfortable actually talking about his feelings. Two others who were obviously close (and close cropped) that metronomed between fleeing one another's presence and retreating back to each other based on environmental cues, and an overprotective father getting defensive about his kid. Not that Thalia blamed the man [u]in the least[/u]. That made as much or more sense than over half the crap she was seeing in this room. And he was a fellow Masshole. But the ballerina chick had a point. To the best of her knowledge, they had birthed and raised a baby out [i]there[/i], which was definitely no small feat, even with additional able bodied people around. Tatiana's response keyed her in to the fact that it was more impressive than that; the Russian mom had done so by herself, to start. As she mentioned earlier, that was some next level shit. Thalia wanted to speak more with Tatiana about her background and some about her dancing. Ulterior motive for wanting to learn ballet notwithstanding, she still wanted to learn it. Oh, what a mobile, gliding, hacking, stabbing, dark engine of destruction she would be once she grew fully accustomed to her alterations and upped her footwork game. Plus, hey - what little girl didn't want to grow up to be a ballerina? Graceful. Delicate. All she needed now was that My Little Pony tattoo and she was set to reclaim her childhood. Kinda. 

	Thalia's foray into imaginative thought was cut short by movement in Beatrice's direction. It was the Captain. Even this served to narrow her eyes and tense slightly. She had wanted to speak with the man. The guy had even said that they would talk later. And now here he was moving toward Bea. She didn't think that anything bad was about to happen, but as it came down to it the approach sharpened her attention anyway. She was aware that he and Bea knew each other, but a lot can happen in a year and she didn't know the guy well enough to fully trust him yet. Her friend was fully capable of handling herself, and she knew it. Thalia was merely acting out of loyalty and shared history. And a mutual love for [i]"Dem [b]O[/b]s"[/i], a factor that could not be brushed aside so easily.  
	 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3a9d9282-fddf-4558-97cb-5f6494f43a4f.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	From his post in the recliner, Hank crossed his hands behind his head. Hopefully the drama had gotten out of most everyone's system and they could move on to a more glorious use of their time which chiefly involved sitting and television. Great invention, television. It had more of a point than staring into a fire for hours on end, even if doing that generally also involved a healthy amount of people shutting the hell up. Hank could respect that. But TV? Even if it was just a gimmicky kids' show that featured a character that happened to have a name in common with one of his traveling companions, be it only a nickname that Hank made up for him, it was still the best damn thing on the screen that he'd seen in forever. He'd be picky later. 

	Going against his own hopes for a lack of conversation, Hank did act on a compulsion to answer Nigel when he asked the exasperated question of why he even tried. In this case, to be a peacemaker, Hank supposed from context. Barely turning his head in Nigel's direction but maintaining eye contact with the program on the screen, he shot him something that passed for an answer. [color=deb887]"Well gee there, Sportacus, I'd have thought you might figure that little mystery out for yourself, buuuut, as you're talking about your existential crisis out loud, maybe I can put this to bed for ya. Mmmkay, ready? Here goes:"[/color] He cleared his throat noisily and took in a breath, then fired away. [color=deb887]"nnnnYOU, sir, are still burdened by a nasty, [i]nasty[/i] habit of having Good Intentions. Everybody say it with me -"[/color] Hank removed his hands from the back of his head and gestured like he was crudely conducting an invisible orchestra. He didn't care whether or not anyone actually joined in with his sarcasm, he just went for it, [color=deb887]"- [i]GOOD INTENTIONS[/i]. Road to Hell's paved with 'em there, Sportacus. Can't deny it. Buy hey, maybe it's not so bad! Shows that you're still clinging to the idea of accountability and keeping order in a world that's clearly lacking both. And [i]gosh darn it[/i] Champ, while I agree with you [i]in theory[/i], we've got so many personalities that don't know each other in this room, the only thing that anyone's going to listen to with [i]any[/i] reliability is the one authority from which all other authority is derived on a primal level,"[/color] pause for effect, [color=deb887]"...[i]The Threat[/i] ...[i]Of Force[/i]."[/color] Yeah, that did it. [color=deb887]"Force to themselves or the application of it to someone else, and the desire to be on the winning side of that potential exchange. I don't hate to say it, so I'm going to: We're animals. Instinctive, meat-eating predators who crave structure and, if I may add, need to blow off some steam and aggression every now and again before something really bad happens."[/color]

	[color=deb887]"Don't you worry about it, Sportacus. You're a good guy, more or less. But you need to lighten up. Tell ya what, there, hows about you grab a seat and pick out the next video, huh? Gonna be a nice, long week in here, and if you lose your shit [i]today[/i] I'd hate to see what happens five days from now. You and Apocalypse Barbie, both."[/color] Hank motioned to seats around the TV, [color=deb887]"We're here. We made it. Drama's done for right now, let's make the most of the lull before someone else craps a whole, live kitten in front of everybody."[/color] Deep down, Hank was hoping that everyone else heard his little pep talk and maybe, just maybe took his advice. Or he just wanted relative quiet and some TV time. One never could tell with Hank. 

 
 
 
 
 
 
	Slowly, Hank turned to face his dear friend and fellow former nuthouse resident. [color=deb887]"...wait a minute, Maldonado. Did you just [i]Toy Story[/i] me? Really? ...Jackass..."[/color] The last word was intoned through whispering laughter as he nudged Wayne's arm.