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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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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/Wnnd0Wm/Ash-FC-5.jpg[/img][/right]
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	Ash observed the conversation from the passenger's seat of the golf cart. The nonchalant discussion of the remains of the former Mr. Dimshit reminded him that the lived in a period of time where life was simultaneously very precious and very cheap. Considering that he didn't know the man whose partial remains had decorated the jail floor, Ash had little problem disconnecting from the task at hand. That, and living as he had for the last chunk of time made one numb to the brutal things one did to survive. But Ted lived and worked with this person. His level of disconnect was curious, unless sarcasm was the method of choice for psychological defense mechanisms here. If so, Ash could relate. 

	So far as Nikki's curiosity was concerned, it was noted that while Ash and Ted knew a little more than she did, neither of them were letting on. This was a thing with which Ash agreed. Loose lips, need-to-know, and all that. If Cage felt like sharing, that was on him. It was not Ash's responsibility to communicate these things and he had no right to, in the name of whatever was left of military jurisprudence. And he didn't know a hell of a lot more, anyway. He did speak up about one thing before getting back to Ted concerning their next stop, however. With the mildest of annoyance, Ash noted that a woman he had spent the better part of a year and a half with in a dump truck had arrived following Nikki and hadn't so much as glanced in his direction. Maybe he told too many Army stories during all that time. He had a habit of relaying information of a historical or practical nature as it applied to the work at hand which some people found offputting, like he was still training grunt sappers. Yeah, that must be it. So with a twinge of good-natured sarcasm of his own, Ash bid Amelia a good day with his own, preemptive greeting. [color=4682b4]"Good evening to you too, Amelia. Glad to see that you're surviving the sea air and regular meals here. Real trooper."[/color] He followed it up with a smile, an act he wasn't well known for among former Newnanites. 

	The question that Ted posed him was still in the air. [color=4682b4]"It's a long walk from Mechanics to the Mess but I'll make due,"[/color] he said with a faux eager nod. [color=4682b4]"Besides, if she's pissed I'm just going to blame you, Ted."[/color] The sarcasm wasn't fully used up on Amelia, apparently. Seriousness was re-asserted with a sincere, [color=4682b4]"But I'm sorry, I should help you unload, anyway."[/color] It was an oversight on his part to request a dropoff when the work wasn't technically done. [color=4682b4]"Ready whenever you are."[/color]   



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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) -> Mess Hall (C)
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Contrary to Thalia's previous disposition toward the sleeping student, wherein he didn't hold her interest and could spend the rest of his life growing dirt for all she cared, the impulse to grab the kid and shake the ever-living shit out of him suddenly took hold of her. She figured that it was because of the comment that he made about grabbing food (not like she couldn't use some more of that sushi herself), labeling the kid's priorities which didn't involve helping out his classmates. Thalia remembered college. She remembered the wastes of space to hung on the underbelly of project groups and got their easy grade for doing the least amount possible. It irritated her. Thalia held a tiny daydream whereupon she dusted off her Familia's talent for motivation, pulled a knife and begin screaming at him unintelligibly in Spanish until he either agreed to shoulder his part of the workload or pissed himself; either way was good with her. Then she might use his urine-soaked undergarments as a gag, thumping his kidneys with her heavy, steel prosthetic every so often if he didn't write down something insightful at least once a half hour. Ah, but who had the time anymore? Thalia would be back. This wasn't done. 

	Okay it was, but assigning it some mote of extra importance felt good for a moment. Done now, moving on. 

	Anyway, Western Gate Duty. That's where she would find the Major, and begin dealing with Part Two of the epic two-parter that involved Thana getting herself into proper training. Then again, armed with the knowledge of where she would be and around what time was a better, less exhaustive, and more probable option to get in touch with her. Something like an ambush. Or just catching her during her off time. Tactically, it made sense. And one couldn't forget that it [i]was[/i] where they kept the food. It was a sushi day. It felt like a sushi night, too. 

	The midst of her thought process, or more accurately, the moment that she put the fore of her thoughts back in the present, revealed to her that Thana had gone ahead. Nigel had also gone ahead. And the students... well, it was time to go. Thalia paced away, intent on getting to the Mess Hall but not feeling the need to run. Oddly, she had the idea to keep a steady look at her surroundings, checking this way and that with her eyes only as if searching for something that she had either forgotten about or only half expected. Something did catch her eye, though it wasn't anything really that she needed. Just one distraction among many, though this time she bit. It was the signup sheet. [color=dc143c]"...DnD..."[/color] she mused aloud. Thalia took a minute or two before giving in. [color=dc143c]"Hell with it."[/color] She had her assigned job, hopefully her training after a lengthy psych evaluation, but this one - schedule permitting with everything else - was just for her. In truth, it was a pretty big step for Thalia, volunteering for something social that didn't involve direct violence somehow. Maybe it was the scene from the study area that put her in the frame of mind to be open to it, but the whole thing reminded her of her own college days at Boston's picturesque Suffolk University. [i]Go Rams[/i]. If it proved to be too big of a step, schedule was not permitting, or if something seemed off about it, she could ghost it completely and not think twice. Her only misgiving was that, based upon her stunted manual dexterity, whomever saw her signature might think that a four year old had a hankering to roll for initiative. 

	 After not too long, Thalia had made her way into the Mess Hall. Oh, she knew what she wanted. More of that yummy raw fish and rice. Chopsticks ...weren't a thing. They waved bye-bye to her the moment she lost her hand. But it didn't matter at lunch and it wasn't going to matter now. That sushi was going down. Waiting in line was becoming irksome, though. Not the fact that she had to wait, though that was not her favorite part of it either; but that Thalia was stuck between people, one of which was standing right behind her. Whether he was or not, if felt like this guy was leering at her, murmuring unwholesome things and mouth-breathing all the while, possibly considering an act of assault. It was her hesitance to be in crowds talking, she knew that. It was also the cause of her staring at the knob on the back of skull of the man in front of her, wondering how much force she would have to use with her metal hand to bonk the guy unconscious if she needed a human shield against the imaginary antics of the slackjaw behind her, and others. 

	Again, Thalia did not like crowds of people. This was coupled with a habit of trying to plot escape routes in any given situation as a survival measure. Eyes on the prize, though. It was sushi time.