[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=00aeef]Emanuel "Manny" Newman[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/163dc10b-061c-4aa2-bdaa-4c4f6cd4d02b.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr]
[center][b]Location:[/b] Quarantine 
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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It had seemed that everyone had returned to their little room now. Not seeing more people that were bloody or hurt, no outbursts by anyone today, and so little time until they were all free to leave this damn room, things were looking okay. He wondered what things would be like here, and he wondered what life would be like for those who wouldn't be able to make it here. According to the odds they were given on the bus, there was a decent chance that at least one of them would not be accepted in. What would that person do then? Would others follow them to make sure they got around alright? Would they just leave on their own alone? The thought scared Manny. Not knowing was an uneasy thing for a man who had been around for a long time, had a large variety of experiences, and had at least seen the answer to most of those situations. But this? The place was a new field for him.

If one of his group members was forced to leave, would he go with them? He sat on that thought. The pros to leaving if one of his members had to, he was a doctor, this place didn't need him as a doctor, he was damn good with a shotgun, having someone watching your back was always a plus, and he still has much of the world he would like to see. Things going against this, he was old, and getting older. He was slow, and getting slower. He was weak, and getting weaker. Outside of his skill with a shotgun, he had no real defensive skills going for him. Sure in his youth he was big enough, strong enough, and skilled enough to hold his own in a fist or knife fight, but now? He knew how to fight, but the other factors were a conflict with those skills. There was also the high probability he may die in his sleep at some point in the next year or two if something else didn't kill him. And probably the most important thing going against him, he may not be wanted. Sure he got along with his survivor group well enough, but it was a professional relationship. A close trust one, but still. He was a talkative old man, didn't really fit well with calm, quiet, and stealthy. He decided, if one of them here kicked out, he would check with them first if he could help. And insist if he had to. If he was kicked out, he was sure he could find somewhere calm, quiet, and remote to live out the rest of his days.


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=00a651]Private Hunter James Monroe[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c08a6051-3ab9-4c98-87b6-05533c8b19e8.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr]
[center][b]Location:[/b]  Quarantine
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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Hunter was clearly not a people person. Anyone that didn't know that by now just needed to spend some one on one time with him. Most people would get that pretty fast then. He either shuts out people, or he goes over the top rather fast. When in ideal situations he found himself at an awkward in between. Case and point, Nikki, or Checkbook as she liked to be called. She was nice, so Hunter responded back positively with her. She kicked his ass in pool, so he tried and fucked that up. But he was enjoying himself. When she was about to take the shot to win the game Hunter froze. He wasn't much of a gambler. Most of his experience with gambling came from before the world broke, and most everyone he has gotten to know post breaking were.... less then great people. "[color=00a651]To be honest, I'm not much a gambler.[/color]" He stopped and thought about it, this girl seemed nice. She wouldn't push anything too far? She wouldn't take advantage of him right? Granted, he thought that of several people who did. "[color=00a651]Plus, I don't own much other then the outfit your people gave me, and a bathrobe.[/color]" He looked at the shot lined up. She would win this, its just a matter of what she wanted.

He looked around the room, specifically the guards, he thought back to that first day, and how things got out of control fast, how scared he felt, and how stupidly he reacted. "[color=00a651]What would you even want anyways?[/color]" He asked, not really sure what to offer even. He had some old military gear, but it was some of the only things that made him feel safe. There was his shotgun? But that felt comfortable and also safe for Hunter. Knowing the raw stopping power from that thing combined with a slam fire mechanism meant he could do some harsh damage rather fast in a bad spot. "[color=00a651]If you really want, I have a roll of twine in my shit they took from me?[/color]" It wasn't much, but he wasn't really sure what else she wanted. Though outside of his arson needs, what use do people have for twine? "[color=00a651]Or something else. Twine is... twine.[/color]" He was clueless as to what she would want from him.