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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 -> Graveyard
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	The good news was that Ash's impulse to inspect and ready his lent firearm was not taken as a potential act of hostility, and as such did not invoke the swift, dramatic wrath of persons toward his rear or flank who already had functional weapons and the capacity to use them. They had said that the entire point to the act of giving them armaments was for self defense, though Ash suspected that having them as armed backup wasn't a wholly bad idea in case the shit [i]really[/i] hit the fan. Still, merely supposition on his part. He was a military engineering officer once upon a time, prone to viewing situations as a set of obstacles to overcome with the resources available to him; animal, vegetable, mineral, or other. People were always an asset. Armed people one could trust were even better. 

	As the others filed out of the bus, Ash found himself falling into an old habit. His first impulse was to exit the bus at the lead, stepping into an unknown situation before the others in an effort to clear the path, if necessary. This was supplanted by the understanding that he was very much not the guy in charge and the responsibility wasn't his. However, the sudden rise on his part followed by a stony expression of resignation might be noticed for what it was by another of his relative background. He could have laughed at himself. Maybe a chuckle or two, anyway. With a shake of his head, Ash filed in line with everyone else. He held his pistol with the barrel pointing down, finger outside of the trigger guard. Ash recalled the words of the man called Bass, saying that Thana said he could handle it. If he was actually speaking about Ash. There was a little uncertainty as to whether Bass was speaking to him or to the Gonzalez woman a couple seats up. Whichever way, it was true that he could handle a .45 pistol. Years of experience, Army man, and all. So he was probably not speaking about Ash.

	There was a tiny pause before Ash stepped out of the bus, upon arrival. He could feel the threshold of temperature change right at the doorway, and took in a deep breath before continuing. It reminded him of his time in La América del Sur, back when he was a younger Lieutenant. One never did get used to walking from air conditioning into an equatorial jungle, not completely. So he took in a lungful of the intermediate air and slowly exhaled as he exited the bus, into the comparatively sweltering air of Florida in the summer, without so much as a decent coastal breeze to keep the muggy air at bay. The heat and humidity of their surroundings enveloped him, and he did not risk breathing in until he had acclimated some. Ash scanned the surroundings, thumbing the safety off of his pistol and holding it at a low, ready position. Among other things he noticed the freshly dug grave, but was not in the frame of mind to ask about it. Looking to the people exiting the bus, he noted a number of pairs - Amelia and Riley, Jack and Tati, Bass and Padre, Alexander and Manny; others pairing up and watching each other's backs. He felt like the odd man out again. 

	Just for the hell of it, Ash gave another visual sweep of the area. This time, he included a peek under the bus. Extremely long shot, but no one else seemed to want to check there that he saw, and it was part of the Hordebuster protocol before the vehicle died on the road. 
	



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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 -> Graveyard
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Sparrow said that she could handle it. Thalia was trying to get used to the fact that everyone under the sky seemed to call her Sparrow. Nah, Thana was still "Navy" to her. But back to Thalia being able to [i]handle it[/i], why the hell did Bass have to say that? Did he think that a woman of her height and physicality might have problems hoisting a metal-rimmed Viking roundshield? Or was it the gun? A frigging 9mm, for Christ's sake. She'd been using them off and on since she was a child. Of course Thana would say that Thalia could handle it. It was part of her standard gear coming into this place, both the shield and a 9mm. She gave the man a little smirk, seeming to relate an unspoken yet sarcastic confirmation that yes, she in fact could handle it. If he was talking to her. If he wasn't, then Thalia just gave a random, noncommittal, sardonic expression. Of all the ones she gave normally let fly in a 24 hour period, this wasn't anything new. 

	While she wasn't the last one off of the bus, she was toward the rear. For all of her good qualities, Thalia just didn't consider herself the "Hero" type. Her deal was quieter, more long-term, and oft involved a lot of stabbing. Let the heroes plunge headlong into the open with a minimal plan. Everyone likes a hero. Heroes inspire. Thana was pretty damned heroic. Apparently, so was her boyfriend. She liked to think that the ballerina chick was, too, but Thalia might have been mixing up [i]heroic[/i] with [i]hardcore[/i] there. Alexander pressing on when he had excellent reasons to give up might fit in this category, if not the actions of a hero in the classic sense. Volunteering for the Eden mission when he had no stake in its outcome would fit, though. She didn't know the others really well enough, and hadn't heard a damn thing about the two Sinead O'Conner lookalikes one way or the other. Thalia could have mentally listed off everyone present, and it would still be hit-or-miss. Even her brother. Overall, it didn't matter. When it was her turn to step off the bus, she did. And rather wished that she hadn't. 

	Thalia was uncomfortable in air conditioning. Unfortunately, it did have the effect of partly acclimating her to its temperature, at least for a little while. In nature, when the climate changes that much that quickly, something was afoot. [color=dc143c]"...Jaysus Facking Chri..."[/color] she began to "Boston out", absolutely convinced for a second that someone just smacked her across the face and chest with a huge, wet, steaming hot pillow. [color=dc143c]"And in the [i]shade[/i]."[/color] Left to her own devices over time, this weather wouldn't bother her so much. Lose a little clothing, use a bandana as a top, keep her hair short, and she'd be just fine to go stabbing fish with a pronged stick in no time. But right now? You'd have thought a cat was laying over her face as she slept. Finally getting greater control over her breathing, the first elements of perspiration already forming. Thalia wasted no time in tucking her Beretta into the waistband of her pants and fixing the shield into her metal hand. She wasn't a huge fan of the extra step, but it beat the alternative. Retrieving the pistol for her left hand, Thalia carefully came to lean on the bus next to Joaquin. She gave the surrounding area a stern, solid look, keeping her vision mostly to distance. Without actually setting eyes on her brother, Thalia asked rather bluntly, [color=dc143c]"So, who's the dead guy?"[/color] Realizing the stupidity of asking that in the middle of a cemetery, she quickly added, [color=dc143c]"[i]Recently[/i] dead guy,"[/color] nodding her head slightly in the direction of the fresh grave.