[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8fad17a9-9f82-4bbd-8428-62a1824e07c9.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]

	Ash raised an eyebrow. It seemed like he was doing that a lot lately. In this case, it was about Thana's assessment of her two former traveling companions from the Eden Team. Being a military man, Ash understood the concept of training. It was more than just strength training, it was also one of the best ways to alleviate terminal boredom. More important than a lot of people considered in either a long-term deployment or a survival scenario. Keeping the mind active by keeping the body active. Ash himself trained for the purposes of keeping himself fit, most of the time. The last time he devoted himself to dedicated training was when he was prepping to launch an assault on their enemies in Eden. He understood. But that one girl? She was pushing herself like she was getting ready for all out war, [i]and[/i] seemed to enjoying it. He would have put money that something was wrong with her, but when he remembered what her father's surname was, it made perfect sense. 

	Fighting? That brought everyone together these days. Or blew them apart. Whichever one depended on the circumstances. But that last part threw him for a loop. Of course, the way that Thana was raising her voice like that, intentionally so that they could hear her, made him thing that she might have been kidding. Wait, no, she wasn't. Okay, officially none of his business. Those two did remind him of two other women from a while ago. 

 	The mention of [i]needing to talk[/i] was ominous. In his experience, that was generally code for "bad news a'comin' your way", and for the life of him, he didn't have any idea what it might be. Did he commit some hideous sin over the past few hours? Did she, over the time that they had been separated, and now need to confess something? Considering the hovering, growling, protective nature of the tall Middle Easterner, did [i]he[/i] have something to do with it? Even that could be worked through. It had been a very long time and they had all been through a lot. Finding comfort in someone else might be understandable, considering things. Especially taking into consideration that they had no idea the other was alive after a year and a half. But even that was blind, paranoid supposition. Whatever it was, Ash was sure they could work through it. It was miraculous that they survived long enough to find each other again after all this time. 

	So really, this wasn't a huge deal, no matter what it was. Ash did as he was asked with regards to her command to [i]Giddy Up[/i], with a smile and a playful, [color=4682b4]"Yes, ma'am!"[/color] hefting her with careful vigor and carrying her into their room for the evening. Being locked in wasn't exactly a picnic, but Ash couldn't think of a person he'd rather be locked in with than Thana. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8b4600e1-6763-448c-9e7e-43fde2400cdd.gif[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Usually, when Thalia started working violence on someone, they didn't laugh at her. It wasn't unsettling, but it was a little disarming. If she had the ability to give Beatrice [i]the finger[/i] without assistance or without loosening her grip, she might have. But the more that her opponent/friend giggled at her, the more goofy she felt. Okay, Thalia had a nasty habit of taking these things a little seriously. More accurately, she sometimes lost herself in the throes of fighting or other intense physical activity. Then Beatrice had to say something [i]really interesting[/i]. 

	Thalia appeared to consider the proposal for a second. Her eyes lit up and the grip she had on Beatrice's clavicle softened considerably, her thumb absently tracing the line of it on her skin. She looked like she wanted to say [i]yes[/i], because why the hell not? It's not like opportunities like this came up very often, if Bea was even being serious right then. Thalia moistened her lips and opened her mouth to respond, but halted. The thought occurred to her that they didn't exactly have a private room. It was being shared with that former cop lady that came in with the sarcastic older men. She sighed, looking a little disappointed. 

	[color=dc143c]"Nah, Bea. Bet was for a hug. I'll let ya know when's a good time. Come on,"[/color] said Thalia, rising from Beatrice and offering her a hand up (especially generous since she's only got [i]one[/i]). Tomorrow was going to see a lot of changes and it was possible that, to grow stronger and adapt, Thalia was probably going to enlist. Or whatever they called it here. They needed to get into their assigned room anyway as the woman everyone called Major was about to impose lockdown. With a heavy and regretful nod, Thalia began to unwind her shirt from her metal prosthetic and filed away to her bedroom. 

	Thalia was preparing to settle in and get some rest, but first she needed to clean up a bit. Erica had beaten her into the bathroom, so there was a moment or two where she had to stand and wait, which she used mostly to stare at the door. Occasionally, she glanced over at Beatrice. Considered a withdrawn woman by most who knew her, Thalia was really more careful with her feelings. They came out at some of the oddest times, however, and usually in the form of anger or grief, like when they were assaulting the Eden complex and the pent-up frustration of her dead friends and family was visited upon those bastards; Thalia's face was a tear-streaked skull painting for half of it, colored with controlled rage. But somehow, when Erica popped her head out of the bathroom door [i]just to tell them[/i] that she was planning on sequestering herself away because she suspected that they were going to start rubbing naughty parts, something clicked in her. Thalia's face got that predatory look again, like when she was sparring just earlier. 

	When Erica exited the bathroom and hopped into bed, content and happy, Thalia stalked into the bathroom. She freshened up as best she could in the sink, which was actually good as she was already accustomed to a more nomadic lifestyle anyway, and slipped into the shirt she had set aside earlier. Thalia opened the door and leaned in the frame, looking over to Beatrice with a dark smile below mischievous eyes. No one tells her what she isn't going to do, when her decision not to in the first place was to spare her any discomfort. This wasn't Thalia's style, but her hand was forced on this one.

	[color=dc143c]"Yah know Bea, I take back what I said befoah. You're right. We need to get this out of the way or both of us are going to regret it lateh. Friend benefiting friend, zero strings. I say we marathon out a hot, loud, multilingual lesbian experience, and that we defile this bathroom [i]first[/i] before we move it back out here."[/color] Shame wasn't high on her priorities right then, either. She looked to Beatrice after glancing sidelong at Erica, and said in a more sultry but mildly satiric voice, [color=dc143c]"My only question is, do you prefer the arm on? Or off?"[/color] She smiled wickedly, a light flush coming to her face. Yes, she was serious about the proposition. And yes, she was also doing this partially to mess with Erica. Thalia moved slowly over to Beatrice, taking her by the hand. Up close, it was apparent that regardless of the motivation to initiate, her want was genuine. [color=dc143c]"Come ahn, we'll figure it out as we go."[/color] 



[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 figured that he might have overstepped something, offering to help with the kid's four-alarm assplosion, by the way that Wayne was going on about it. Not the kind of guy who gave a rat's ass about the social niceties, but dealing with a man's son is different. Nothing made lifelong enemies like overstepping bounds with someone's shiny new kid. When the man responded with an affirmation, Hank could have breathed a sigh of relief. [color=deb887]"Ah, don't mind that guy,"[/color] he said, motioning to Wayne, [color=deb887]"He means well. I'm mostly sure he means well. Ok, he means well today. Eh, he's a good guy. Be honest, I don't really keep up with baseball anyway. Now hockey? There's a sport worth getting worked up about."[/color] 

	He related a story or two about hockey, and the legend of the great Bobby Orr, while the diapering was taking place. Not just to get the father to focus his mind on something other than being elbow deep in baby crap, but also so that little Jamie had something to listen to while it all went down. Be it a verbal or a visual distraction, Hank's experience was to keep the kid disoriented while flipping out the huggies, of bad things could happen. [color=deb887]"Yeah, anytime there, sport,"[/color] he quipped, hoping to find scalding hot water to wash his hands with after performing that particular diaper assist. 

	Bedtime now, another end to the day, hopefully the last day he would spend sitting, mostly. Hank did prefer to keep himself useful with practical labor. The idea of learning to fish properly was also nice, as was formal boat operation. Tomorrow had possibilities. It always seemed to, but this tomorrow was special. Hank lay back and relaxed, letting sleep take him as swiftly as it dared. At least Wayne wasn't farting tonight.