[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 -> Briefing)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	People were talking. That was to be expected. People were talking about [i]him[/i], specifically. Much of it was sarcasm, which was fine with Ash. He had broad shoulders and thick skin, and moreover spoke fluent Sarcasm. It was a rarity anymore that he dipped into his knowledge of the sarcastic arts, but it was in there, buried. Whatever. The people in that room had every right to some small talk about the utter shake-up in their Quarantine guests. Far be it for him to say anything to the contrary. Ash merely maintained his stance, though he couldn't help but gaze in Thana's direction with a look of contentment on his face. She was reuniting with her people from the road, the former Team Eden. Looking at them, Ash wasn't sure that it was an appropriate descriptor for them anymore. Sure, it was a label to hang on them collectively and people would know what he meant by it, but the assault on Eden was just the origin of these people's association. They had come from such different backgrounds and had only met the day that they left together. Ash almost envied what they had, a closeness that few people outside of a military unit at time of war would ever understand. He hoped that they could hold onto it now that they were in the relative safety of a community. 

	But the wheels of bureaucracy continued to turn, as they ever would with any organized group of people. Even in an apocalypse. The touching reconnection with her team was nearing a conclusion, and Ash had taken a step or two in Thana's direction again when another member of CMB entered the Conference Room. It was Panama, and he had a list. This was interesting. Considering the names on the list, Ash was a bit confused. It took him a moment to realize that the last names spoken belonged exclusively to what remained of the Eden group, plus himself, and Thana's callsign here. That didn't seem to altogether make sense. They had little in common except for Thana and that they were outsiders here. Whatever questions he might have would probably be answered shortly, so Ash kept quiet and followed the man down he hallway with the others. 

	Briefing. The sight of the word on the door gave Ash the slightest feeling of mirth. Briefing, or the reciprocal [i]Debriefing[/i] had come to also mean something else for him, though nothing that he should get into here. This was serious. For purposes of entering this unknown situation, Ash quickly righted himself and got into a more "On The Clock" demeanor; his eyes becoming hard and observant and his posture retaking something more soldierly. Whatever the purpose of their presence in this room, Ash was meeting it as a professional. Upon direction to the seats, Ash took a center one in the semi-circle and sat patiently at attention. They were calling in the settlement's Executive Officer. This was important, whatever it was. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/00ecc1bf-9025-4060-9ad0-1831bf8c6ee5.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room -> Briefing)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Thalia could hear herself being swept away by a range of emotions that she hadn't wanted to really share with anyone yet. Seeing Thana had let her guard down some, though the particular way in which the chose she her words to Thalia put the marginally younger woman right back on it. Not only that, but no matter how much they had to discuss or shoot the shit about in private, Thana had more people she had to speak with individually. Every so often she would sneak a peek in Ash's direction (because she wasn't stupid) but for the most part she just enjoyed being in the presence of her dear friend while they all shared the moment. Even if she was more guarded and self aware at that point. 

	There was a moment that drew her back out of it. Thalia thought at first that she might have been seeing things, a second of wishful thinking that had gotten away from her combined with a piece of personal history that stretched back to the first day of their unity as a group, just a mere trick of the light reflecting off of the can to make it look like something it wasn't... But it was. [i]Someone found The Os[/i]. 

	Shifting into a predatory gaze, Thalia slowly began to change her position, moving with quiet determination ever toward Beatrice and her gifted can of machine rolled pasta. Her face was calm, expressionless except for an unobtrusive smile that could easily be taken for happiness in seeing her friend again, but the eyes - she had the ruthless glare of a cat sizing up an unsuspecting grasshopper, readying for the proper moment to pounce and devour merely for the crime of being noticed on a tall blade of grass. She stalked over to Beatrice, thinking back to the last time that [i]Dem Os[/i] were up for grabs. It was the day she lost her arm. Oh, but that didn't count. It didn't change anything. [i]Sympathy Os[/i] were not part of a playbook that brought any lasting resolution to the situation, though she had to admit that she consumed them readily enough when offered. And here they were again. Tempting. Mocking. [b][i]O[/i][/b]-ing. She was going to plant her face in those Os one way or another. 

	While moving somewhere behind Beatrice, Thalia heard her last name called among a list of others. Aware that attention may be placed in her general vicinity, she had to abandon her present course of action. Inwardly she cursed the timing, but her face showed nothing except for a casual surprise at mention of "Carmichael". She beamed a gentle smile toward her friend, the act in defiance of the inward but unspoken thought of, [color=dc143c][i]"This isn't over yet."[/i][/color] Indeed, the O Wars continued. 

	Thalia tore herself away and filed in line with the group headed toward Briefing. She selected a chair to one side and slid into it, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back. She waiting with a determined gaze, curiosity mixing with guarded caution. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/512644c3-1ce1-4607-8ef7-70b0e9371881.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank's more jovial attitude as of late, while yet considered uncharacteristic of the man, did take a backseat for a moment. He was carefully studying the reactions that a lot of the people were having, seeing as some of them were beginning to understand the implications behind their separate interviews. Considering Hank's own, he believed that it was possible the nature of each one was different, and if the people of Mexico Beach counted themselves as organized in the least then they had to have been sharing notes, probably both before and after the interviews took place. Perhaps that was why he found himself looking to the older French gentleman who a lot of the people there knew. He was having some sort of fit or another, and Hank appeared to be hanging on every word he was mumbling, though he said nothing about it himself, taking a page from the Army Captain's playbook about keeping things quiet, lest too much information be spilled unnecessarily. My, but that was interesting, for whomever else might have picked up on it. 

	What did could not quite get was the Little Mermaid reference. Hey, whatever worked for his buddy Wayne. He wasn't hurting anybody and Disney was Disney, after all. Hank did feel a twinge that was birthed of memory, though. He had a little girl, once upon a time, that did like The Little Mermaid. It was a bittersweet recollection but did not stop Hank from joining in when the song selection in the jukebox of Wayne's brain selected [i]"Les Poissons"[/i] as the featured act. Yeah, that was funny stuff. Hank was going to hyuck it up while he could. 

	After the room cleared out a bit, from the six names called for some group session elsewhere, Hank looked over to Wayne and casually mentioned, [color=deb887]"I think I'm going to catch me a nap there, Maldonado. Let me know if the Pope shows up. He has some explaining to to."[/color] Reaching a hand down, Hank levered the footrest of the recliner in which he was ...reclining... and leaned back into it. Within a short span of time, he was already grumbling and snoring lightly, visions of French chefs and poor, unfortunate fishies meeting their end for his amusement.