[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/5dbf48fc-3988-4c4e-81a5-122be7b76b2b.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]

        [color=4682b4][b]Day 4:[/b][/color] He had to admit it, it did him good to see that baby progress. A new life achieving goals in the world as it was now seemed miraculous. Ash spent a little time playing with his tiny godson until it was time for a feeding. 

        Room assignments came as an interesting change. Seemingly at first intended to mix them up, the new room order had them with more familiar people, for the most part. Maybe it was because they figured no one was going to kill anyone else and the group was willing to follow their rules. Regardless, he appreciated the change. Some people who needed time for themselves got it, and Ash had few concerns about the motivations of his new roommate. 

        During one of his less stoic moments, Ash even found it within himself to inquire to Riley about some of the music that their new guard had brought in for herself, [color=4682b4]"This is some of your earlier stuff, isn't it? You might have fans here."[/color] Though he never said anything directly to the younger guard about it. If she didn't already know that there was a pre-apocalypse star in their midst, Ash wasn't going to ruin the surprise if and when she figured it out for herself. 


        [color=4682b4][b]Day 5:[/b][/color] Ash was curious to note that, in addition to her grueling sessions with Tatiana, the one-armed Miss Carmichael had decided to join him for his morning calisthenics. She didn't ask permission nor declare any interest beforehand, she just walked up and started hammering out pushups right alongside him. The new hardware she was sporting made it possible, and she threw herself wordlessly into it. Ash considered asking her why or saying that he wanted to keep his sessions private, but something about the drive of the woman prevented him. It was those eyes. He saw Caesar's intensity in the woman. She had something to prove. 

        The rotation for interviews still didn't include him. While he had no idea what the rhyme or reason was with the order in which they were selected, nor the significance of the varying lengths of them, he had felt more or less okay with the process as a whole. That is, until Tatiana came back from hers. The longest one [i]by far[/i], and she looked distressed upon her return. 

        When she found some marginal privacy in their bookshelf fortification, Ash quietly approached and sat down beside her. He didn't look directly at her, keeping his vision on the others in the room, collectively, as the line-of-sight of the shelving allowed, simply asking, [color=4682b4]"You good?"[/color] He wasn't fully buying her answer. But it's not like it was something to deck her over. Ash just stayed with her quietly until either she or the situation indicated otherwise. 

        [color=4682b4][b]Day 6:[/b][/color] As usual, his task in the a.m. didn't take much in the way of time. Just as soon as he had finished, he was approached by Thalia again, an eager look urging her toward exercise again. This time, when they got to the sets of boxer crunches, she threw in a specific, extra combination with every other rep. Ash had seen that before, as well. His eyes widened as he remembered where he had, and what it must mean about her. Her smile was a chilling confirmation. It seemed that they would always be haunted by ghosts from their past. At least this was a piece of that past they had in common. 

	It seemed that finally, [i]finally[/i], Ash was called for his interview. They seemed to be cutting it close, too. The next day was their last in Quarantine, and he had a sneaking suspicion that those in charge were intentionally saving his interview for later to confirm or deny things that those formerly under his command were saying. Naturally, that was the point of separate meetings in the first place. Well, no matter what happened, Ash was going to answer as truthfully as he could. Mexico Beach might not be their last chance at life, but it was the best one they had seen in a long, long time. 

[center][b][color=4682b4]Two Hours, Ten Minutes later:[/color][/b][/center]
	[i]It was eerily surreal[/i]. Ashton entered the Conference Room walking as a professional soldier might. Spine straight, shoulders broad, posture immaculate. His eyes were sharp and jaw squared. Ash's clothing looked as if it had recently been recently fixed; his shirt tucked tightly enough for his muscle tone to show through. Also, and oddly, his hair was wet. Otherwise, it looked like he was simply retaking his role as a soldier, with two [i]HUGE[/i] exceptions: The skin around his eye was darkened, showing the telltale signs of one whopper of a black eye forming. It was about as big as his palm. The second, and significantly more alarming exception - His pant leg was [i]covered[/i] with blood. It started high and ran almost fully down to the hem. Whatever happened during Ash's interview time, [i]blood was involved[/i]. 

	He seemed to take no notice of it. There was a faraway look in his eyes and is mouth was clamped shut. He didn't offer explanation to anyone. Not even those closest to him. Instead, Ash found a seat and simply rested himself in it. He wore a very satisfied expression on his face that beamed confidence. Bright, unapologetic eyes showed remarkable clarity. 

	Ashton Holloway surveyed the people around him, making careful mental notes. Nodding slowly, he blew out a long, slow breath. His face was damaged more than when he went in, and blood stained his clothing - either from himself or someone else. Ash didn't seem to give a rat's ass about either.  

	His interview was over.  

	  
     
	

[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]

	[color=deb887][b]Day 4:[/b][/color] There were a lot of people who seemed worried about a lot of things. Hank understood that holding onto their individual concerns often gave people a sense of identity; an external locus of control that aided in defining who they were. To that end, they were, in part, identified by what they perceived they were struggling against. For many of them, that was living in general, which in this day and age had merit beyond simple paranoia. Others had more specific points they worried over, which Hank would have been more than happy to help them address if A) it was his job, B) he cared enough to, and/or C) he felt like getting a laugh out of it. 

	Good news, though! The rooms were being switched around a bit. In the case of his quarters, that just meant that he and Wayne now had the beds to themselves; one each with all the pillows for their reclining and/or fort-building needs. That wasn't so bad at all. Thinking back to Wayne's exclamation from earlier, about having a new fishing buddy, Hank put forward an idea that he'd been giving some thought since his interview ended. [color=deb887]"Hey, Maldonado... Think about this okay? We've been talking for, well, shiny-God-in-heaven knows how long about doing the 'old person' thing and retiring in Florida, right? Well, we need to learn how to fish. Not that 'throw a line in the water and drink beer' fishing (but that's not off the table, let's not rule anything out). Like, [i]really[/i] fish productively. And boat. Boat and fish. Fish and boat. Therapeutic fishboating. Or boatfishing. Whatever else they have us doing, I want to make that a priority. We could even bring a few of the more tolerable asshats here out with us after we're established. You with me?"[/color] If one didn't know an better, one might say that a man making plans for the future and choosing to involve others in them was a highly positive step forward.  

	Unrelated note, but [i]god damn[/i] he wanted a steak. If they'd let him get out and hunt, he'd take care of it himself.  

	[color=deb887][b]Day 5:[/b][/color] The work that they let him do was good and all, but it just wasn't enough. Hank was the kind of guy that needed to [i]do things[/i] to keep from going a little nuts. Or just act like an asshole. Not that something to do would fully [i]prevent[/i] that from happening, but it did blunt the sarcasm a bit. Hank's time in Quarantine was getting a little boring. There was only so many times one could play cards for legos (that immediately went back into the box anyway) before it got stale. Often, he had given consideration to putting their various chores up for wager, though he thought he remembered someone saying that their assignments couldn't be transferred to anyone else. That was probably a big no-no. If it might have been allowed, Hank saw himself betting high and folding, just to have more productive stuff to do. But, it was what it was.  

	Now, the observant Mr. Hanktholomew Patrick Wright, after noting the extremely long interview of the Russian mom who Wayne was getting along with so well, likewise noted her return. And the condition that she was in upon that return. He didn't say anything outright, nor out loud. Something happened and he was likely never going to know what it was. She seemed okay and there was no shortage of people supporting her. It was best to keep his nose out of it. Sadly, he could not completely. The one thing he offered to her, and in as few words as possible, was, [color=deb887]"Hey, ah, let me know if you need an ear. Seriously. Mean it."[/color] Hank backed off. 

	[color=deb887][b]Day 6:[/b][/color] Oh, what fresh and fugly hell was this? No sir! No, no, no, nooooooo. Big, huge, giant red flag just went off. Russian Red's shaky entrance yesterday was one thing, but Captain Ash-hole striding in with all the majestic poise of Captain America, looking like he just came back from a pugilist review and covered in blood, while [i]no one gave a shit[/i] was making him a little antsy. Their guards didn't seem too ruffled. The man himself didn't seem to notice at all. The distinct lack of the previously mentioned shit-giving from all parties concerned made him very happy with how his own interview went, and curious as hell as to what happened to [i]him[/i]. 

	Maybe he'd ask. Just not first. Someone else could ask first. That guy might actually be crazy, and Hank was an expert on crazy from behind both sides of the glass. Nope. One more day in Quarantine, then he could retire in Florida like he intended to, more or less. Stay frosty until then. 

	[color=deb887]"Hey there, Cap'n! What the hell happened to you [i]this time[/i]?"[/color] Shit. He just couldn't stop.

        Not surprisingly, [i]Ash did not respond[/i]. 

[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]

	[color=dc143c][b]Day 4:[/b][/color] Thalia stepped back into the Conference Room, an uncommon smile on her face as the was slightly proud, and slightly embarrassed of, her new arm. Not [i]arm[/i], really, though it was shaped more or less like one and did perform many of the functions that one might, with the exception being the [i]vast[/i] majority of her previous manual dexterity. But damn, could she club a bitch out with it if she needed to. Thalia already knew what she wanted to have done to round her combat ability back out, and it would require the assistance of another fabricator of some kind. Or a decent armorer. But that was a question for tomorrow. Today, she had to begin acclimating to her new hardware. 

	Pursuing this, Thalia spent a good amount of time testing her flexibility and range with this new prosthetic. The bones of her forearm were obviously vastly compromised, limiting the ability to rotate the device considerably. Quarter turn at most. More work would have to be done with her bicep, shoulder, and elbow to compensate and not leave herself open in a scrap. But this was immensely preferable to the item she had for herself before. And more comfortable, too. 

	Then there was the news of the room change. Okay, keeping things moving, yay team. Being bunked with Beatrice seemed slightly double-edged. She had been pulling away. Being locked in with her at night might provide opportunity to ask a couple pointed questions about that, though doing exactly that might exacerbate the situation. If she wanted to talk, Thalia would be happy to give her the opportunity. Plus, she was still in a room as a trio, not a couple. There was no sense venting their business in front of someone else. Drama led to more drama, and they had gone through enough for a while. 

	[color=dc143c][b]Day 5:[/b][/color] The next morning, Thalia rose, readied herself, and ate as much breakfast as she thought might be appropriate to the level of training she intended to inflict upon herself. That is to say, as much as they let her. Once ready to greet the day, the first thing she did was walk directly up to Ash as he readied for his own workout routine. It was cute, really, in a "I don't want to get soft" sort of way. Thalia had much more that she wanted to do with her time. She was out to sculpt herself into iron. Ash's workout routine would serve to increase her muscle mass by way of using her own body as counterweight, and thusly would compliment what she was already doing with Tatiana. So, she said nothing to the guy at all. She just walked up, confidently bracing for pushups on her knuckles (real and metal alike), and matched the solider push for push. It was a little more difficult than she remembered. Of course, not having an arm to brace on for so long meant that she couldn't actually do some of these exercises for a while. 

	Ash looked at her like he wanted to say something, a gesture to which she responded by shooting a similar look back. Oh no, he's not going to tell her to piss off. Ash should be happy that someone wanted to have a damn thing to do with his gruff, antisocial ass. And she might be a hypocrite if she let on that she was a whole lot different in that way. With new people, anyway. 

	Tatiana's interview ran late. Very late. In addition to the calisthenics from the morning, Thalia agreed with Wayne that they should continue their exercises from Tati's metaphorical playbook, and keep them going when she got back. It took a while, though. And when she got back, she looked blank. Absolutely blank. Between that and hiding in her and Ash's bookshelf fort, Thalia was a little worried. She backed off, though. Give the lady some time. They had their workouts in the meantime, which Thalia was taking very seriously. [i]Very seriously[/i]. To the point of physical exhaustion seriously. 

	[color=dc143c][b]Day 6:[/b][/color] Oh, that sly bastard! Thalia finally understood why the preliminary workouts with Ash felt so familiar: She had done them, exactly, before! Long before, now that her brain was putting a date to it. She had been one hell of a boxer back in the day, for one as young as herself when she got into it. More than that, she had an eye for styles. Her father taught her to box, long ago. He also taught her the difference between boxing in a ring and fighting in the streets. In turn, she took lessons from both and quantified it into a form that she could pass on to others in a more teachable way, turning a family brawling style into a martial art that kept evolving. One of the points that it evolved was when she found herself surrounded by apocalypse survivors wearing metal armor, behind walls of hewn logs. A tall, blonde bitch with her own family history trained with her, fought with her, and had her own routine. Army Captain was using [i]that exact routine[/i]. That meant that he likely boxed, too. [i]That[/i] meant that Vinters style bitch-hitting was still alive in the world, albeit in the mind of a man with more self control than its previous user. Pity. 

	The fun part: The routine got a little more complicated the further you went into it. Just for shits and giggles, Thalia stepped it to the next level up, throwing in an extra, alternating punch combination during their crunch sets. He recognized it. The look was priceless. Thalia grinned her ass off and kept exercising. Later on, she might talk to Wayne and Tatiana about it while they did their training. There was no way she was missing training. 

	As it turned out, Thalia had her interview on this day. She was gone and back in a half hour, and seemed none the worse for wear. Eager to get back to it, maybe, but otherwise unaffected by the Q&A session. On the other hand, when she saw Army Captain get back, she stopped what she was doing and, in a kneejerk reaction to a situation that might get hostile, made herself as least noticeable as possible, so as to take an erupting problem unaware of her next actions. Her eyes took in as much detail as her brain could process, and what she saw confused her to no end. 

	Ash was back, blood on his clothes and it looked like someone took a sack of doorknobs to the side of his face. What did he do? Why isn't anyone doing anything? Why the hell did Hank have to put his foot in his mouth like that? Was Ash hurt, or was that someone else's blood? Why did he look... content?