[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0a4ff453-3e81-4168-812e-43542db4e796.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]

	The proverbial cat was now out of its equally proverbial burlap enclosure, and Ash was feeling very confident about the future of his Newnan refugees. Of course, the second he officially accepted citizenship within Camp Mexico Beach (contingent upon its offer, of course), he waived what authority he had to call them [i]his[/i] Newnan refugees in anything but an informal, friendly basis. It was an odd feeling, knowing that he was going to be signing away personal responsibility for the lives of these people. He had gotten that feeling before, years ago, whenever an assignment was coming to an end. And naturally, part of that final moment had to contain the knowledge that he was leaving that which he was responsible for in capable hands. Otherwise, he would have done them a disservice. 

	Ash had seen a little of how this place operated. And he knew much about the reputation of the man in charge of this community, having read much about him in textbooks and serving alongside men who had been under his command. Actually meeting the guy showed greater nuance to his personality. There was the smallest lingering piece of doubt, though it was not about the Camp nor the intent of its inhabitants. Ash wondered how many of these people had to struggle to survive in the world, as it was today. Did they have to repel invaders? Had many of them been forced to make hard choices to ensure survival of their group as a whole? True, they had much, arguably more than Newnan had at their disposal at its best, but could they continue after the bones of the previous civilization, the one they had been born into, had been picked clean? In [i]that[/i] instance, or any other sweeping paradigm shift, Camp Mexico Beach might just need people like his: New blood that wasn't afraid of hard work and had to survive in the badlands that the rest of the world had become. So long as they weren't doing something stupid or painting themselves as potential enemies. 

	He could even be wrong about that assumption. There was much he yet needed to know. But his mind was already made up; warts or no, Ash was putting his name on the dotted line. If he could stay here with Thana, contributing to the safety and well-being of this community, he was going to go exactly that. Especially seeing that those he came in with likewise had the opportunity to become part of the Camp. 

	His attention was still mostly on Thana during this time. Considering the nature of their meeting earlier, this appeared highly subdued. Ash cracked a little smile at the thought. He had his own concerns about everyone else seeing her for the first time in months; emotions may be high and definitely mixed. Snatches of conversation he has picked up gave this reunion a possibility of uncertainty. He was pleased to see that the feel of the room thusfar was gratitude and elation. And though she could obviously handle herself, he yet felt the need to keep a subtle eye on the situation. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e5a2acd6-4a43-4fdf-81a0-ae19c80e184c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[i]Part Terminator[/i]? That dirty, underhanded bitch. How Thalia had missed her. Granted, the arm wasn't ideal but it beat the hell out of having no arm at all. And to be fair, she really didn't have the time yet to get fully used to it. It was a wonderful piece of equipment, though. And from the looks of things, Thana had a bit of reconstructive work done herself. [color=dc143c]"Oh, you [i]whore[/i]!"[/color] she exclaimed, mock aghast. [color=dc143c]"It's fine, but it's really hard to play with myself with this thing. Frigging Zeds, right?"[/color] She said it like it was way back Before and she was forced to go with her second choice of automobile from a rental company. Yeah, it sucked, but she was alive and she had a metal fist with which to beat the living daylights out of people who pissed her off.

	As for Thana's following comment, Thalia shook her head. [color=dc143c]"It's not 'cause I'm stubborn, girl."[/color] Her voice was deadpan serious, though her eyes showed deliberate intensity, [color=dc143c]"So much more left to do. Gotta keep moving forward."[/color] Okay, maybe it was because she was stubborn. Of all the negative traits that she had, Thalia wasn't going to let herself be defined by "stubborn". Not when there were other, more provocative options to choose from. 

	Thalia had more to say to the woman. It would have to wait until others got their chance with her. They had another day in Quarantine, she was sure that she could wiggle in some time between now and then. She did give a listen and agree with Thana as she gave Manny her own personal seal of approval. She didn't feel right giving him a salute like her friend did; Thana was actual military. The most that Thalia could claim was [i]independent contractor[/i] or [i]company girl[/i]. There were similarities in structure and duties, but traditions of the military were such that she didn't feel comfortable emulating them. Though truth be told, she did find out that she would have made a passable Norse shieldmaiden, racial differences notwithstanding. But she had to train hard for that. That mental foray into history aside, Thalia had to agree with Thana. And out loud, too. 

	[color=dc143c]"I never said it out loud, Manny, for a couple reasons... if it wasn't for you I'd be dead. Thank yah."[/color] She gave a halfhearted laugh, [color=dc143c]"We're not going to hug about it, either. You stay over there. But you are one hell of a medic in a pinch."[/color] 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/70c9e764-6526-4dfa-be47-b42aa3a5b384.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank grabbed up an unattended deck of cards and started thumbing through them. With everything going on that was highly emotionally charged, he felt even more like an outsider than he did a few days ago. Sure, he was a lot more comfortable with the surroundings of Quarantine, but his emotional investment in the people around them all was limited. 

	Getting to know a lot of these people over the past week was kind of a double edge sword. Hank had a knack for sizing people up, yet his own gruff, steely demeanor kept a lot of people at a distance. Maybe it was influence from his hetero lifemate, a man who was able to push others away with unrivaled skill. But it might be more accurate to say of the people around him that they had formed into different groups of mutual support. Now that they were put into a position where they no longer had to rely on each other for mere survival, they were reorienting themselves based upon less immediate factors. And predictably, if Hank wasn't [i]needed[/i], then he wasn't particularly [i]wanted[/i]. 

	In the end, it usually wound up coming back to he and Wayne anyway. Like Yule Brenner was fond of saying in The Ten Commandments movie (the original '56 version, not that animated crap with the guy from Top Gun; not that Hank didn't find Top Gun to be one hell of a movie too (even if it was about [i]navy pilots[/i] which he could take or leave) but it was no Ten Commandments was all he was saying, though by now he had horribly mentally digressed at this point in time) ...[i]ahem[/i]... Like Yule Brenner/Ramses II was fond of saying, "So let it be written, so let it be done." From the look of how things were progressing in Quarantine, the people they seemed to be getting along with best were from CMB anyway. Panama was an asshole but so were they, and Gunny revealed as much about himself as Hank did through some manner of mysterious asshole telepathy, which was hard to explain but fun to describe. Maybe the Captain. Jury was still out about that guy, even though he could launch a solid brood like it was an Olympic sport. 

	But speaking of the perpetually smacked around Army guy - Hank settled back down into the recliner next to Wayne's just as he was calling the guy a lucky bastard, still shuffling about the deck of cards. [color=deb887]"Aw hell, Maldonado. At least someone's getting some action, and for crap's sake that guy looked like he needed it."[/color] A thought gave him reason for a quick subject change, [color=deb887]"Hey, d'ya think we could ask these guys to live on a fishing boat?"[/color] He shrugged, considering the possibilities.