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[h3][color=4682b4][i][b]Ash Holloway[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=4682b4]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Jail (AA)
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Rosie's bathroom. The invocation of the name of that place struck Ash with a sort of internal revulsion. He was the new guy, and already subjected to one of the more ...interesting... aspects of CMB that might be related over drinks at a fire at a later date. But more to the point, it was being used as a comparison of Hunter's attitude. [color=4682b4]"Hmm, wow. Too soon, Ted. Too soon."[/color] He had recently gotten away from that place, and during that time was kicking himself for getting the tuna casserole before going back to it. Fate had placed his work elsewhere, but the very thought of the near miss there was close to a gag-worthy event. Still, Ash was interested to note that his sense of sarcasm was developing back into his casual conversation. It was oddly comforting. 

	The abrupt change in topic had almost blotted out the answer that Ted had given him from his memory. But as the issue calmed a little in the foremost portions of his brain, Ash processed what he had been told. Ted went an got himself in a heap of trouble when he first got here. Oddly, he seemed a little bit like a cautionary tale, if such a thing existed anymore aside from the usual rule of law outside of walls, summed up as "Be paranoid at all times, or you will likely die". Such was life. 

	Mulling everything around in his head, Ash finally spoke up, [color=4682b4]"Well, this room isn't permanent for us. Guy in charge'll be along. Place is clean."[/color] Looking to Hunter, [color=4682b4]"This room isn't permanent for you, either. One way or another, you still have options."[/color] Again, unless the Powers That Be have moved more than a fair sight away from the Uniform Code of Military Justice. For all Ash knew, he stepped into Napoleonic Code a few stops back and they were waiting with a cigarette and a firing squad. It would definitely be an ending to an odd day. Ashton shook his head and redoubled his efforts to nonchalantly lean against the wall.                                                                          




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[h3][color=dc143c][i][b]Thalia Carmichael[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=dc143c]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Education (M)
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	The nonchalant manner in which La Profesora addressed Thalia's potential ability to write in cursive as met with an arch of her eyebrow. Much as most things were a cause for annoyance to her, she really couldn't help but feel a little annoyed by the exchange. [color=dc143c]"Good to know,"[/color] she said carefully. In truth, it really was good to know. Such things weren't on her "To Do" List right at the moment and really weren't up there on her list of priorities overall. Thalia was on a mission, and this was just part one of two. Now that it was coming to a close, Thalia was anxious to move on to the next step. 

	The question of Nigel proving himself academically took her by surprise. For a moment, Thalia thought that the Professor was talking to her until she looked up and saw for herself who was being spoken to. Of course she was talking to Nigel. Books weren't her thing anymore. Then again, the thought of being in a position where she would eventually be able to concentrate on more academic pursuits did have a sort of appeal, so long as it didn't make her weak. Or dependent upon others. Or worse yet, others dependent upon her. This whole "living in civilization" thing was going to take some getting used to again, especially the social aspect of it. In a passing effort in that regard, she looked to Nigel, a guy that she really only knew as the other weapon and shield person from quarantine, and surmised, [color=dc143c]"Guess we'ah officially the first, then."[/color] As mentioned earlier, there would probably be more that signed up after a while. 

	But that wasn't what Thana had commented about. She had made leading comments about their instructors in the finer arts of inserting and removing steel into living and undead flesh. And she recalled part of the conversations from lunch, before she disappeared under the table and booked it for parts elsewhere. Thalia's eyes narrowed, and she quoted one of the few literary passages she remembered from college, [color=dc143c]"Cry 'havok!', and let slip the dahgs of war...?"[/color] If anyone in that place knew how to handle a short blade, or a long blade for that matter, it would be [i]Shakespeare[/i]. 

	In regards to the line of pure bitchery perpetrated by Thana, signing in cursive [i]just to spite her[/i] (which in truth she didn't regard as such until the tongue-sticking-out incident), Thalia leaned her head back a little as if to size her up. Her expression was summed up efficiently enough by the words she chose to mark the occasion: [color=dc143c]"Yah. Go eat a dick, Navy."[/color]