[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/Wnnd0Wm/Ash-FC-5.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] L11 (Beach, Backstage)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	The lady said stick close, as if he wasn't going to do exactly that anyway. Ash stayed by the wings of the stage, out of sight of those in front of it but within full line of sight with the performers. It was a good song, and well done for the setup they had. Hell, it was the best performance he'd seen in years, if one really thought about it. Ash's concentration was on Thana's vocals, however; the fact that she was singing and the melodic sound of her voice, so that it took him a moment to fully realize the intent behind the actual words. When he did, it was a touching moment. The words seemingly spoke to him, as if to outline the trials of both of them, coming from different ends of the same road. 

	He caught sight of her looking in his direction every so often, catching his eye, which confirmed to him his assumption that the song was about them. Written for them, perhaps. Even if it wasn't, damnit, it was now and that was the end of it. There was a sense of contentment in Ash's psyche, while not as complete and full as it might have been a number of year before, was more than enough for him now. The ever-present threat of the rest of the world had instilled a sense of wariness within him now that would never go away. Ash was cursed with the knowledge that everything can be taken away in a moment, and in his case, indeed was a few times. But tonight Ash was behind walls. The air mild and tinged with salt, carried along by a breeze from the ocean, bringing with it the sound of rhythmic waves. And most importantly, he was reunited with his Thana. Check that, [color=4682b4]"[i]Thawna...[/i]"[/color] he whispered. She seemed to react to it favorably, and to be honest, he did miss the colorful accent of his upbringing. 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/D9f1NPS/Thalia-Irritated.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] L11 (Beach, Bar -> Kettles)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Meanwhile, back at the bar, conversation seemed to fade away into a light buzz in Thalia's background. Having summarily decided, even through the mild paranoia of her more tactical nature, that the people directly around her were not an immediate threat, not to mention that the level of inquiry about her was slowing down, her attention was being diverted elsewhere. More specifically, it was moving back in the direction of where she came. Food. Her habit was to consume what she could while she could, for the acquisition of another meal was no longer a dependable event, at least up until very, very recently. Old habits die hard, and this one was five years in the making. She could feel a sudden jolt of adrenaline course through her blood, the instinct born of surviving like she had and going without the basics for longer than was acceptable. 

	There was one thing that captured a part of her attention, at least temporarily, was Nigel asking something about reenacting. She turned her head slowly to him, her eyes only leaving her target at the last possible moment. [color=dc143c]"No."[/color] It was a simple enough reply to a yes or no question, though it seemed like he might have been pushing for deeper conversation on the matter. Funny thing was, he wasn't amazingly far from the mark. [color=dc143c]"Did some stabbing. Needed range. Found good teachers."[/color] Dama Muerte knew that if she had that range when she needed it, she might still have both of her arms intact. 

	Thalia polished off the last of her beer and left the bottle on the bar, then strode over to the kettles and food table with all of the directness and caution of a predatory creature. It oddly reminded her of her first meal in Quarantine. In a scene that belonged in the most brutal adaptation of Oliver Twist imaginable, Thalia made her way to the kettles and held her hand[s]s[/s] out to the one known as Cook. Her eyes had a restrained look, but she really was trying to fit in.