[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/92d5f43a-8b98-4f28-9d91-88707ca27ccf.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Quarantine (Briefing)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	The eyebrow arch that expressed on Ash's face was one of the more motivated ones of his life thusfar. This briefing was already a roller coaster of emotion, be they mostly buried behind his trademark stoicism. Admittedly, less than usual; his carefully developed persona of hardened calm and logic had taken several hits as of late. Even the positive ones - the warm, fuzzy glow of love and trust, the joys of being alive and seeing Thana alive as well - were hard to keep back, even though this was supposed to be a professional, cut and dry briefing. Not that he was trying to hold [i]those[/i] emotions back. His default kept him fairly unexpressive while he was "on the clock", as it were. But it was on his face. My god, as virtually unheard of as it was, Ashton Jameson Holloway was content. Happy, even. The was [i]hope[/i] etched all over him, even if he was sitting at attention. 

	But back to that eyebrow arch. It was the request by Thana to have three of their number escorted out, to be replaced by the rest of the surviving Newnan group. Something about information and closure. Asking a question now would be pointless as they were all going to find out whatever it was they were going to find out after the others arrived. He had to admit a sense of growing curiosity, though. Patience was usually a thing he had in respectable amounts. Today, amid the swings from heartbreak to bliss, he found that his patience was a little bit wanting. Ash kept it under wraps. They had things to tell him, and while not as epic as Thana's story, he had things he wanted to tell her. Looking to her with pride and determination, Ash elected to respond with a simple, [color=4682b4]"Thank you, Thana."[/color] Then likewise to her father, [color=4682b4]"And thank you, sir."[/color] 

	This was a momentous occasion. And while there were several things he would likely never puzzle out without a lot of background, Ash gave a trace of thought to a single, mundane detail: What was with the SpaghettiOs? 


[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 (Briefing -> Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Thalia just realized that [i]that bitch still had the can of [b]O[/b]s[/i]! She was sitting with it, caressing the can, like she wanted it noticed. Fine. No big. This can be circumvented. Thalia was a frigging mestiza ninja. If anyone was going to be capable of surreptitiously retrieving those blessed rings of pasta and generic red sauce, it was going to be her. Oh yes, those [b][i]O[/i][/b]s would he hers. 

	Naturally, the thought occurred to her that this particular can of SpaghettiOs had absolutely nothing to do with the original issue last year. Nothing at all. In fact, by all rights they were Beatrice's and Thalia had zero claim to them, by law, spirit, nor expectation. They were found by Thana elsewhere and given to her directly as a gift. But that wasn't the point. Thalia had already decided to do with this settlement as she had with Fairburn; that meaning that she would stay, train, live as one of them and come out of it stronger. Hell, she may even embrace the military lifestyle, and add that concept to her repertoire in addition to her training with Familia, Company, and Vikings. 

	Strangely, she thought that she remembered a comic book like this, about a person drawing skillsets from different lifetimes, but just couldn't remember the name of it. Well, it'd come to her. The point was, those goddamn [b][i]O[/i][/b]s were a mere focal point around which she would train. After all, how does one train stealth in a closed community? How indeed... It was a lesson for later. Thalia gave Beatrice a warm, supportive smile (kinda) as she was getting up to leave, and she quietly said, [color=dc143c]"Talk lateh, Bea."[/color] Her eyes mischievously darted toward the can once more before she exited the room. 

	There was one thing that gave her the slightest bit of annoyance. Being referred to by her last name, though you'd think that it was something commonplace for her, often served as a reminder that she had always been an outsider wherever she went. Some of the time it was a good thing. An asset, even. But sometimes it reminded her that she was never given the name of her father, the only family she knew since she was ten. (until she revisited the concept of "family" during the apocalypse, but while true that wasn't germane to the point) Maybe it was a silly thing. She liked her name, it had a touch of class to it. Even sounded a little badass if you said it just right. Still, it was a reminder that, while Gonzalez was expected of her, she was born under different circumstances. Maybe she'd even make that work here. Trivial, but ever so sightly annoying. 

	Upon returning to the Conference Room, Thalia leaned against the wall and gave a long look at the people from Newnan as they filed past. There was a sense of tactical curiosity as to what they would be made privy to, and what was important enough to warrant a secret pow-wow like the one she had just gotten out of. She didn't think asking directly afterward would be a great idea, and it wasn't her concern really, but the more guarded element of her personality had her questioning a situation that, while she felt better about it, was still fairly fresh to her. That wasn't going to change except with the passage of time. 

	Thalia crossed her arms in front of her and continued to lean on the wall, her hazel eyes perceptively scanning the room and the people within it. Maybe it wasn't her name. She would always be a little bit of a outsider and it was probably because she made herself that way. Though the name did get the ball rolling in certain circles.  


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/aba30426-d83e-4254-afa0-7c18e428f01c.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 eyes fluttered open. He wasn't in his personal Hell anymore. Just the regular one. That meant that he hadn't died just yet and there was more to do before he got to see his family again. One day at a time. Of course, he wasn't suicidal - and there was no way that he was going to abandon his friend Wayne, even if he was a total nutbar. They'd been through too much and, even if he was a little intense, Hank got the man. He was one of the good guys. 

	Indistinctly, Hank felt a trickle of movement on the side of his face. He was still a little disconnected from his nap, and didn't realize what was going on until he raised his hand up to wipe his eyes. [color=deb887]"...i'mnotcryingyou'recryinggotohell..."[/color] he mumbled, rousing himself fully into the waking world. He un-reclined the recliner and looked over to Wayne, who had somehow acquired himself a small child. That was odd. Hank quickly looked around the room, checking to see if the kid's parents were present and okay with this. He knew that Wayne was the kind of guy who could be trusted. But he also knew that not everyone else knew that. Satisfied that everyone was either absent or okay with things, Hank gave baby James a look over. [color=deb887]"Well hey there, little man. Big ol' Wayne's not a scary guy, is he?"[/color] He gave a half-hearted shrug, as if trying to convince himself of this statement. [color=deb887]"Yeah, nevermind. Look kid, these are good people here. Hell, I was a dad once, long time ago. You just say if you ever need help changing an alternator or beating the crap out of someone with a shovel, and Uncle Hank'll come running, okay buddy? Okay."[/color] 

	Hank looked over to Wayne, a contemplative sort of look crossing over his face. [color=deb887]"Hey Maldonado,"[/color] he began, a serious tone to his words, [color=deb887]"This isn't just about us fishing off a boat in Florida anymore, is it?"[/color] It was the excuse they gave for doing this, but it kind of felt like a piece of pipe dream bullshit that kept them moving in a direction until they eventually died, by whatever multitude of ways this world could kill them these days. Now that they were there, this had to be about something more, or else he really was just the asshole he constantly portrayed to other people. 

	But yeah, retiring in Florida to fish had to feature heavily. It was the principle of the thing.