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[h3][color=4682b4][i][b]Ash Holloway[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=4682b4]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mechanics (K) -> Jail (AA)
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	It looked very much like Ash had walked in just in time to interrupt "guy talk". He wasn't often the type to engage in that sort of thing, but as a military man he'd heard it more often than most and yes, in periods of temporary immaturity, had lent a word or two into the discussion. Be that as it may, he still refrained from participating or even inquiring into what the hell they were talking about. Whatever Volts was saying to Roy was his business; Ash didn't even announce himself any more than he already had until Roy nodded in his direction, which he returned with equal depth and duration of gesture. His attention went to Mizrahi, who gave him the tiniest bit of unexpressed elation as the tall Middle Easterner informed him in two words that the bathroom was done, this punctuating the sudden emergence of a new face from the room in question. The new guy looked disconcerted. Ash couldn't blame him. 

	Of course, the next sentence to leave Mizrahi's mouth served to settle Ash right back into his previous mindset, that being the guy who needed to pound out work and get to the rest of the appointments of the day. For all he knew, the jail was worse. So much worse. Internally, he braced himself for what was to come. Also internally, Ash had no idea where the jail was, exactly. It might take him the remaining half hour just to find it, preventing him from both therapy and supper to tend to whatever they were using for stockades here. On the bright side, at least this job allowed Ash to see more of the settlement. Knowledge and familiarity were very good things. The faster he acquired them where CMB was concerned, the better everyone would be. [color=4682b4]"Yes sir,"[/color] he responded to Mizrahi, ready to get this over and done. Ash extended a hand to Ted, introducing himself with with a simple, [color=4682b4]"Ashton Holloway,"[/color] before striding back out into the Florida air. [color=4682b4]"At a jog, then?"[/color] he inquired eagerly, wishing for haste. 

	"I'm not running there," responded Ted, pointing to a golf cart loaded with cleaning supplies. He did jog, but just as far as the driver's side of the golf cart.

	The pleased look on Ash's face was almost infectious. He climbed into the front passenger's seat and felt the awesome power of (probably) five horsepower careening him away from Mechanics, down the main thoroughfare, and around the waterfront on the settlement's interior. Ash waved to people he knew along the way, which might have been the people in front of Admin or Medical, though it was hard to tell from the distance. Well, he tried. Around the water, past Distillation, across a bridge and through a former residential area went they, finally coming to a building that looked to be directly across the waterway from the Admin/Medical buildings. Following Ted around to the entrance, he waited until protocol was met for entry to announce and introduce himself to whomever was in charge here, [color=4682b4]"Holloway, reporting for cleaning detail,"[/color] It was brief and to the point. Ash wanted to do a good job and move to the next thing. 

	
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[h3][color=dc143c][i][b]Thalia Carmichael[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=dc143c]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Administration (A) 
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Court Martial. Thalia knew what that meant, after a fashion. Her old work didn't exactly have the same thing, as they were not allowed to assume responsibility over a person's fate unless certain, very specific criteria were met. Mostly, that involved credible threat to life or property. Or course, that would be called "Corporate Coaching", "Reeducation", or "Civil Disciplinary Action", most of which involved amassing evidence, restricting the individual in question, and turning everything over to local law enforcement. That wasn't her department, anyway. Still, [i]Court Martial[/i]? The very sound of it made her think that someone military fucked something up really badly. This place had enough former military. Or present military, considering the way things were run here. Still, no peeking or leaning for her to find out more. She was not the Latina Ninja of CMB. [i]Yet.[/i] And if so, spying on one's own people (if indeed, that's what these survivors were supposed to be now) was probably a no-no. If she wanted to know, she'd ask directly. In fact, Thalia planned on it. 

	First, Thalia was asked a question. She left the door open as she was bid to, and as she was not offered a seat she elected to stand with her hands clasped in front of her, or rather, her metal hand encased in her left. Then she tried to answer the question that Gunny put to her as succinctly as she could, considering that she didn't know the proper answer, herself. Did she have the time she needed? Thalia had to assume he was talking about the memorial service. To that end, both yes and no. Not as much as she might have wanted but significantly more than she expected. Ever. [color=dc143c]"Time. Yah, thanks for that, boss."[/color] She was terse but respectful. This was Thana's family, after all. Dipping her head toward the folder as a gesture of indication, whether it was noticed or not, Thalia took a direct approach of inquiry: [color=dc143c]"Who's getting Court Martialed?"[/color] If he wasn't hiding it, no harm no foul. If it wasn't something he wanted getting around, she could handle a direct [i]NUNYA[/i] without it upsetting her day. Otherwise, her former profession and instinct for survival had her seeking relevant information about her environment and the people in it. This could be a learning experience. Learning was why she was here. 

	Oddly, Thalia was [i]still[/i] thinking that she wasn't used to air conditioning any more. Hopefully, at least the blood on her face had stopped again.