[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] L11 (Dance Floor) -->L9 (Street)
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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	Alexander seemed about as puzzled as Manny was about the wild fucks. "[color=00aeef]Something going on with the youth here. Seems they are all having at it in their own way tonight.[/color]" Made sense, being young and enjoying life whoever they thought they wanted to. Reminded Manny of how he enjoyed life growing up. Though that mostly went with getting into fights, stealing petty things, and getting an earful from his father. Manny did get lost when Alexander said something about feeling sorry about one of the kids. "[color=00aeef]Which one? The boy?[/color]" He looked over just in time to see him laying face first in the sand. Manny had to agree, the morning was going to suck for the boy. But at least he was moving? As far as Manny knew he was on his back a few minutes ago. 

	Making their way to the rooms was a decent enough walk. Seemed a few others were starting, but Manny and Alexander had the lead it seemed. "[color=00aeef]Your snoring? No. It meant that if someone tried sneaking up on us, they would find you before me.[/color]" Manny said with a bit of dry humor. "[color=00aeef]I think the thing I will miss most is the smell of your foot.[/color]" He gave pause for affect. "[color=00aeef]The nice smell of freshly shaped and sanded metal. No smell quite like it. I don't know how I'll sleep at night now![/color]" He said with a very serious joking tone. Jokes aside, it would be odd for the old dentist. For the last few years he had slept with someone watching his back, or himself watching the backs of others. The short time he didn't do that, eh became a prisoner of Eden... this would be... hard. He knew it was for the best, but it was still an experience that Manny wasn't sure he was ready to get used to just yet.



[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] L11 (Kettles) --> L10
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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	Hunter decided he hated parties. They only led to social embarrassment, and Hunter hating being near people even more then usual. He took Nigel's hand and pulled himself up. He was thankful that his arm seemed to work the way it was supposed to. Everything else seemed broken in some way. "[color=00a651]Thanks...[/color]" He said ignoring Nigel's comment about going to bed being an order. He scooped up the oatmeal with his hand and ate it. Not that Hunter didn't prefer utensils, but after years of not having them reliably, hands. Hands were the way to go. But it was good, so was the toast that he wiped off said oatmeal on then ate. Honestly? The food was probably Hunter's favorite part about tonight. His least favorite part? Looking over just in time to see Nikki dancing with someone else. Sure, he had only known her for a few days, but he lacked friends here, and Nikki was on that short list of potential people he would try to befriend. He felt pissed for a moment, then in a moment of inspiration, had an idea. "[color=00a651]Hold my oatmeal...[/color]" He spoke to no one in particular. His idea? Go over there and beat the shit out of Bass, to prove that he could and that he was better and that he wasn't some fuck up. If that wasn't a red flag enough for Hunter, when he held out the bowl he only held onto it long enough for the bowl of half eaten oatmeal to drop to the sand and spill whatever Hunter didn't shove into his mouth. 

	The third and final red flag that Hunter should have registered, was that he was wasted. He got two steps after dropping his bowl before tripping over his own feet, and landing sideways face first not even having the reflexes left to brace his fall. So he laid there, letting the grains of sand accept him as one of their own. While laying down face in the sand, a few things registered to Hunter. Not in any particular order of importance, but ideas none the less. First, Nigel was assuming Hunter's use of Fuck nuggets was him cussing out Nuggets. That wasn't the case, but he wasn't going to correct him. Nigel was nice, like Canadians. Canadians were nice. The more important thing though, was that Nikki was her own person. And he had known her for only a couple days, and had clearly blown whatever chances he had. So fuck it, sir tall and handsome could spend the night with her while he was accepted by his new people. The Sand Grains. 

	Pretty fast Hunter decided that he liked sand about the same as most people. He turned himself over, face covered in sand, and tried to wipe his face off. But with his face and hands being covered in sand and oatmeal, it mostly just made it worse. It took him a moment, but he willed himself to get up under his own power. Partially out of shame, partially out of spite for being unable to do it. "[color=00a651]Okay... I'm done. Ready for bed...[/color]" He drunkenly stumbled off to get to his room. A few drunken steps at a time.