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[h3][color=4682b4][i][b]Ash Holloway[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=4682b4]Location:[/color][/b][/i] The Bus
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/YDbGSVd/Ash-Outstanding.gif[/img][/right]
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	Ash didn't see the man in the back of the bus, Joaquin, adopt his inherited glare. Maybe it was best that he didn't. Their family had the occasion to be unpredictable and a little stab-happy for reasons that they didn't always disclose. Come to think of it, with two of them that he didn't know well in an enclosed, metal tube moving away from the only point of civilization of which Ash was aware for an indeterminate distance away. This might be one of the more dangerous bus rides Ash had taken. And he'd been dropped off in some pretty unsavory conditions while deployed. [color=4682b4]"Yes ma'am. No problem. Timing, is all,"[/color] he responded to Thalia. It seemed to satisfy for the meantime. 

	But as subjects that were satisfying were concerned, the topic of weapons came up. Funny, he was just thinking that he'd feel better if he could get his hands on a .45 pistol. It wouldn't be entirely inaccurate for him to feel just a little like a kid at Christmas, anxiously awaiting his turn to get at whatever was for him in the sackful of goodies being passed around. He noted that they were [i]not[/i] the weapons that they came in with. In most cases, it was an upgrade. So, with a hair or two or genuine optimism, Ash waited. He was almost the last person to receive his item, and took just a bit of surprise that Bass paused in the middle of his surname, only to refer to him by the abbreviated form of his first name before handing him a sidearm. He didn't recall having much of an in-depth conversation with the man. It felt a little off. Ash must have been the topic of some conversation or another; he just hoped it was framed positively. That might have been a safe assumption considering that he was being handed a large bore pistol. 

	[color=4682b4]"Thank you,"[/color] he responded clearly, with a little twinkle in his eye as he examined the sidearm at his disposal. Smith & Wesson 4506, .45 ACP, Double Action start and Single Action continuing, semi-automatic fire. He recognized this weapon as one that was on the table to replace the general issue sidearm of the United States Army. It didn't quite make it, due to NATO ally compatible factors, but nonetheless it was a weapon designed purely for combat application and used his preferred round. Ash gave the pistol a once-over, ejecting the magazine and inspecting the chamber, then reinserting and chambering a round. He applied the safety and tucked the pistol aside, then placed his hands on the back of the seat in front of him so that their hosts didn't misinterpret his actions as hostility and perforate the back of his head. That would be a very unproductive end to his day. 




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[h3][color=dc143c][i][b]Thalia Carmichael[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=dc143c]Location:[/color][/b][/i] The Bus 
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/93wPFz4/Thalia-Gun.gif[/img][/right]
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	[color=dc143c]"Shit. [i]Yes.[/i]"[/color] It was a simple enough remark from a very direct [s]lady[/s] woman who still regarded being armed with the same appeal as a bacon double cheeseburger with accompanying chocolate milkshake. The same sort of predatory expression that she gave Roy earlier that day was reserved for the gun in her hand, giving way to a cold, determined smile. Even this faded away as the gave her lent weapon a cursory look. This was a Beretta. She was a Glock girl, herself. It was the first gun she learned how to use and it remained her favorite for a long time. It also didn't hurt that the Glock 17 was the standard sidearm issued to the security agents of MSS, her former employer. Personal proclivities aside, this wasn't the first time that she held a Beretta. She remembered the last time she was lent one, though. Back when she had two hands, she had opportunity to go full Guns Akimbo with her company Glock in one hand and the Beretta M9 of a guy she had met that day. She got to see him die that day as well. [color=dc143c]"...James..."[/color] The guy looked like a jackass, but he started her on the path that led her here. Then he fell into a collapsing chasm and died. Hindsight was a bitch, sometimes. 

	She broke her reverie with the Beretta and accompanying memories, noting the signal to wait from Bass. Her gaze followed him to the back of the bus, an eyebrow arching with regard to what was forthcoming. When Thalia saw what he was pulling out for her, it keyed off a series of emotions. Naturally, Thalia went to anger first. It was a good survival default. To the tune of, [color=dc143c][i]"How dare those bastards hide that from me, that's my fucking property,"[/i][/color] though it was an unspoken impulse. It quickly gave way to, [color=dc143c][i]"They have it, they haven't just cycled it into the hands of some who doesn't appreciate lifelong craftsmanship,"[/i][/color] again unsaid, and filtering into the memories of both the Zed she took it from and the woman who made it; its first wielder. Both were friends. One was closer to her than the other. 

	Thalia accepted the [url=https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/a90db90a-6be8-43ac-a1e6-7fd86315540a.jpg]shield[/url] with a touch of reverence. It felt like it might be a little lighter than the last time she held it, which was probably due to her more regular diet recently and the exercise she was putting herself through. It looked the same as ever. Even better. The various imperfections that the shield bore was testament to the battles of its owners over the years. She traced her finger along the pattern engraved along the front, giving a nigh sinister grin. Reluctantly, she slid the item down in front of the seat and turned her attention back to the gun.

	It was a little tricky of a maneuver to inspect and ready a sidearm with only one functional hand, but practice on the road with her much smaller, scavenged Ruger 9mm had taught Thalia a method. It was a little slower than the standard two handed method, granted, but got the job done. Of course, it was easier if she were standing or kneeling. Beggars and choosers, she figured. Thalia placed her foot up on the seat next to her, hunching down to better accommodate. She checked the safety and placed the weapon behind her knee, so that the slide could be actuated with by tensing the muscles in her leg and pushing against the handle with her functional hand, opening the slide for observation. She depressed the magazine eject and let it fall to the set below, then let the Beretta remain behind her knee while she checked the magazine for ammo, replaced it, and actuated the slide again with the same practiced move she used to inspect the chamber; this time a full back and forth to put the first round in the chamber in a single controlled motion. [color=dc143c]"Hnn..."[/color] she half-crooned, half-growled with a sense of personal satisfaction. This was a good, tried-and-true pistol. Thalia almost hoped she would get the opportunity to use it.