[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] Mess Hall (L5)
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
[hr][hr]

	Moments like this reminded Manny that no matter what happened they would always be there for each other. Not that he had any real doubts, but the reassurance was nice. "[color=00aeef]I could see you as a radio host. You have a good manner and voice for it.[/color]" He wondered what it would be like to listen to the radio on a regular basis again. Past communities of his have built a make shift radio setup, but it was mostly used for calling out to other survivors in hopes of improved quality of life factors. It never panned out to more then static, the occasional refugee, and once or twice chatting with survivors out of reach from each other. When it came for Manny to talk about what he would end up doing he finished the bite of food in his mouth, wiped his face and cleared his throat. "[color=00aeef]Medical. Not sure if they have what I need to get back into my old practice, but I wouldn't mind entering for none traumatic work.[/color]" If he needed to though, he wouldn't hesitate. 

	Stopping to think for a moment more about his interview came back to him. "[color=00aeef]They're considering me for education. I find that a bit funny considering I haven't done a day of child care in my life. Not that I am against kids, just never had any of my own. We just...[/color]" He stopped for a moment. Not sure how much to share. Yes, he was a talkative person, but he had his own history that even with those he was close to, he wasn't as comfortable talking about. "[color=00aeef]We just never got around to it.[/color]" He said in a manner of fact tone. He did take note of Thalia's lack of words. She had a great way of communicating without speaking. Something that Manny wouldn't mind getting better at in the future at some point. Manny gave a polite wave as she left though to get rid of her tray, and he finished up his food. Despite the urgent environment the apocalypse created, Manny still ate his food at a rather slow pace. Like with most of his life, he was pretty patient, and took his time with everything.



[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] L5 --> M6
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
[hr][hr]

	The rules seemed pretty strait forward about what was to happen while Izibell stayed here. For the most part, it fit really well for when hunter has taken dogs to other places. Clean up after her, shit and all, keep her well watched, and don't let her get into trouble. There were rules about food which he found odd but he would shrug it off. Rules were rules. Food was food. "[color=00a651]When you say... keep her indoors otherwise. Does that mean that...[/color]" He wasn't really sure how he expected things to be. He almost expected that she could always be near him when she wanted to be. "[color=00a651]So... is she not allowed to stay by my side? She's pretty well behaved, someone trained her before I found her. She follows commands well.[/color]" She was also the closest to family he had left. 

	The thought was clearly a stressful one for him. Though he tried to hide it, it was a skill he had been struggling with recently. And one he never really mastered to begin with. "[color=00a651]I've like, never even heard her bark before.[/color]" Woof yes. Her deep woof, mostly to show that she wanted attention. "[color=00a651]Are there... other things I should know about? This place... had a lot of rules.[/color]" It's not that Hunter wasn't a fan of rules, but... He wasn't a fan of rules. He grew up in an isolated part of his home state, in an area that people went to the next town over to go to the store, and that as long as you didn't start problems, it was live and let live. No one watching over your shoulder constantly to make sure that you dotted your I's, and crossed your T's. Sure, he could live with rules, but he felt confined like a prisoner every time he heard more about this place.