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[h3][color=00aeef][i][b]Emanuel "Manny" Newman[/b][/i][/color][/h3]
[i][b][color=00aeef]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Grave Yard
[i][b][color=00aeef]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	It was time to leave now. Manny still felt like he should say more, but he had nothing to say and all of his words at this point would seem more like saying something to say something then for anything else. No, what he said before was enough. If he wanted to say more he could at a later point in his life. There were a few awkward exchanges between people, a few nods of approval, and a few more goodbyes. Manny was done though. He walked his way down towards the bus, taking note of Bass collecting the weapons. He found himself running late as Atticus pointed out he was the last one left. Manny made sure to unload his shotgun before passing it back over to Bass. "[color=00aeef]Sorry about earlier, there were better ways to point out my frustration, and that was far from the best. So I'm sorry for that outburst I had before.[/color]" He handed the gun and the shells over without anything else to say.

	Manny made his way on the bus, letting the nice air conditioning cool him down. The heat was brutal outside and Manny was glad to be out of it for now. He took note of Alexander sitting by himself. He worried the days were starting to get to his fellow Baby Boomer. Manny sat himself down next to Alexander and gave him a small smile. "[color=00aeef]I don't think we'll have too many more of these. Not like this at least.[/color]" Sure, no matter what people were always going to die. But hopefully the time of old age and challenging sickness would take the bulk of it was coming soon. A time where the threat of walkers and people would be so small that if the weather was nice people could choose to walk out towards and say good bye at their own pace and leisure. A chance that things might feel normal, even if different. If that was even possible anymore.


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[h3][color=00a651][i][b]Hunter Monroe[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=00a651]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Cell B
[i][b][color=00a651]Skills:[/color][/b][/i]N/A
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	Prison was rather boring for the soldier boy. He had little to hold his attention other then the ants, and the remains of the dude they were taking back to the nest. Which he found kind of creepy. He wondered if walkers would be more or less scary if they took bits of people back to a nest of some kind. He decided more, that would imply some kind of hive mind or cooperation and walkers with a strong ability to think and work together was not a fun thought. He liked the idea of being able to sit on top of a stone or brick structure and be able to blast off round after round into the undead's head and the other around gave no shits what happened to the ones who got shot. Granted if they were a hive mind would they care then either? only partially minded cannon fodder probably not. Thinking about these random things were nice. It was a nice distraction until he burnt the idea out in his head. At this point though he needed a new distraction, his mind was starting to wander to less then pleasant memories, less then pleasant thoughts. 

	He wasn't sure if this was some cruel present from the universe, but he got his distraction from his own thoughts. "[color=00a651]Mother Fucker?![/color]" pulled his feet up from the cot the moment he saw the rat. Given a chance to let the shock of the situation pass he fell back into less then pleasant thoughts, but this time not focused on memories. "[color=00a651]Of fucking coarse. Fuck you little shit head and fuck this place.[/color]" He sat back down on the cot, but keeping his feet up. With not much better to do he sat and watched the rat. It was something doing... something. And it was nice to keep an eye on it to make sure it didn't bug him.