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[h3][color=662d91][i][b]Alexander Polawski[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b][/i] The Bus (I5) -> (Q6)
[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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	The time passed for Alexander the equally old veteran as well as the generic old man - how quickly it passed was up for intense scrutiny and questioning. It was not the case that he did not pay attention to Daytona nodding back to him, neither Thalia nor Manny passing him before Atticus the preacher spoke up. He was not ignoring them, neither those he cared less about and those he cared immensly about. No, it was rather the polar opposite. His mind drew him towards those very special people, both alive and now long-since gone to their Lord. 

	Leaning his head up against the glass window of the school bus, Alexander listened idly to what was said by those in charge of the bus, though his mind was far, far away in deep thought. Something was swurling and drenching his mind. People, words and memories that reminded him of his past. Haunted? Perhaps, perhaps not. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Atticus telling them to be armed when they went outside, but the only thing he could picture were a couple of images. 

	One of himself, armed with a M16A1 5.56 at the firing range somewhere in the US, training to be a decent rifleman before he was chosen to be the radioman and token sitting duck of the squad. He'd never touched a rifle in his life, let alone a weapon besides the normal knife or broken beer bottle from his father. Armed. Armed and dangerous, and that was meant to keep him safe? 

	The other memory was of an older Alexander, protecting his wife with a pistol he'd kept in their boat just in case. That was in the near past, though now it felt like a lifetime ago. And yet it was not far away, just the other side of the state of Florida, down towards the Carribean. Armed and ready to defend themselves. Judith, the one he was supposed to protect with his life, for good and bad. And yet he failed to do just that. 

	Looking out the window of the bus, coming up to the gate, Alexander sat for himself deep in those thoughts, separated from the current life he was living. He was safe and sound with the people he cared about, yet he felt no joy in their company. He only felt the betrayal towards those he let down. 

	A tear ran down his face. A single tear for the one person he'd loved, not the other one he'd betrayed.

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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) -> Streets of CMB (L5)
[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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	Nigel wasn't sure whether or not Thana agreed to his little jest at first, but it was apparent that Cook agreed to his promise. The neo-Roman teacher smiled back at her and nodded, agreeing to help Thana as much as he could, even if she didn't want to. Then again he was more than willing to exit the Mess Hall sooner rather than later, the onion air still hauting him as he tried a few tears running down his face. Compared to the sea water of the Gulf of Mexico, the onions were the Red Sea, and not in a good way. 

	One word stuck out to Nigel though, but any attempt at elaborating on it had to be cancelled as Thana looked at him, though with a smirk that made Nigel smile once again. Soon Nigel followed Thana out of the Mess Hall and out onto the humid streets of Camp Mexico Beach. It must have been how the Roman legions felt stepping onto Egyptian soil during the reign of Caesar, a foreign climate not familiar to them. The humid air hit Nigel just like it hit Thana, wiping  the humidty off his face as if it hit him like a hot shower. Having given his goodbye's to both Moralez and Cook, Nigel was ready to head back to work down in Babylon. Babylon, so this meant Nigel was supposedly a Jewish slave of Thana? 

	Nigel walked beside Thana out onto the street, feeling the sweat start pouring down on him and his body, though he had to settle that it was better than freezing in northern Britannia, standing guard at the wall hence his name. [color=#B8860B]"I know it's not for me to say, Thana, but…she was right. If you're recovering from whatever I won't poke my nose into, you have more than any right to put that load onto me. I'm ready to carry the world on my back, so to speak."[/color] Nigel referred to a certain Greecian carrying the globe, an Atlas if you would. He meant it. He was the newcomer here after all, not a veteran like the old General or even Cook and Moralez who had specialized jobs at the camp. For now Nigel was assigned to helped-duty, and he wanted to prove himself.