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[h3][color=662d91][i][b]Alexander Polawski[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Assembly (P) 
[i][b][color=662d91]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/BBfr494/Mugsy-1.jpg[/img][/right]
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	It was difficult for ol' Mugsy to believe what they were about to do. Not only was Alexander going to give his final goodbye to the crazy Kiwi and equally mad Texan he'd only gotten to know so briefly, not considering how much both of them had meant to him and those alive he held close to heart - The entire group of newly arrived survivors had been given that same chance, all going once in an orderly fashion and with enough time to pay their respects: A proper burial, one he'd wish himself get when it was his time. Camp Mexico Beach, this place was fast becoming his home. 

	Alexander fought the urge to shed a tear, looking briefly up into the sky as if to pour it back whence it came from. People stood scattered closely around the Assembly, all known faces to the old veteran, some more than others. Atticus and Ash had been talking, Tatiana and Jack stuck together, the two young ladies did the same. No doubt that the same thoughts passed through their minds as his own. 

	Then there was Thalia and Manny. Thalia went to talk with her brother, the dramatic type who the Roman fella had made quick friends with, maybe. The last thing she'd told him passed through his mind again, putting a smile on his old face. She was a good girl, he stuck by those words. An angel. Then it was Manny, his fellow baby-boomer. Alexander looked back over at him with the same smile on his face, listening to how his day had been. Normal conversation. [color=662d91]"Well look at you then, Mister fancy-pants cleaning director. Sounds like you're moving up the corporate ladder quickly."[/color] Alexander replied to Manny, before hearing Atticus announcing the plan for the short ride. 

	Alexander did as told and entered the bus like the others, making sure to give Daytona the driver a good old nod and a [color=662d91]"Good afternoon."[/color]. Soon Alexander was seated amongst the others in the bus, silently looking out the window like he'd done when they first arrived, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Not a sound was heard inside however, as if they were all silent. Only images. Stills of people he missed. People he'd lost, people he'd killed. 


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[h3][color=B8860B][i][b]Nigel Cooper[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=B8860B]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) 
[i][b][color=B8860B]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/LrnKm2S/Nigel-Hadrian-1.jpg[/img][/right]
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	For a moment Nigel felt light-headed and dizzy, briefly grasping tightly around the handle of the cart now that he stood in the Mess Hall. He didn't know or think of why he felt like that, only reasoning in his dizzy state that he'd perhaps pushed himself a little too hard in the heat outside or something. It sure made it difficult for a moment for him to focus, meaning he didn't entirely grasp some of the conversation happening around him. Though he did manage to look up at Cook as she came out to meet them, giving her a polite nod as if to say "Yes, quite well beside this headache…" 

	Eventually Nigel's senses returned to him, allowing him to finally grasp what he was supposed to be doing. The cart, yes. Cook had just asked him to push the cart into the kitchen itself, situated at the back of the Mess Hall. He looked over at Thana and gave her a thankful nod, confirming her directions after her with a [color=#B8860B]"Kitchen, straight back on the left. Got it, be right back."[/color] He told her, commencing the movement of the pseudo-siege engine towards the kitchen. 

	Nigel's eyes began to tear up as soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen, almost wondering what traumatic event had befallen him to have him cry. Moralez sure didn't remind him of any terryifying knife-wielding Gaul who'd terrified him outside the walls. Then it hit him, just like the smell hit his nostrils. Onions. Fighting the urge to rub his eyes, Nigel thought back to when his mother farmed and cut onions when he was a kid. Yeah, it was the same feeling. Pushing the cart to where he was told to place it, leaving it by the preparation sink and giving Moralez a friendly, albit teary greeting. [color=#B8860B]"Here you have it - gifts from Poseidon himself. Hope this comes to good use."[/color] 

	Nigel made an effort to exit the kitchen faster than he'd entered, sniffing badly as the tears kept coming even as he put the kitchen behind him. Seemed like Cook was concerned with Thana and her health, though Nigel could hardly blame her. From what Nigel had seen of Thana the Ahenian she was pushing herself, even if she was doing a fine job out of it. It was hardly in Nigel's place to intervene, though the neo-Roman took his time to carefully wipe the tears away before he said anything. [color=#B8860B]"I'll try to do as much as I can for her. I'm her personal assistant/slave today after all."[/color] Nigel said to Cook, turning to Thana and giving her a wink. [color=#B8860B]"Can't promise she'll listen to me, she's much wiser than that, but I'll make a Heruclean effort. I'm ready to get going, shall we?"[/color]