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[h3][color=662d91][i][b]Alexander Polawski[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Chapel (V)
[i][b][color=662d91]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Alexander's gaze lifted itself suddenly from observing the pool of rain water that accumulated around his shoes, looking down to the ground floor and seeing another person having entered the Chapel - Manny. He'd been so silent that Alexander's decision to speak with Freedman had blocked out his perception of his fellow Baby Boomer, now much to his shame. Looking down at Manny sitting at one of the benches, Alexander waved down at him and gave off a nervous chuckle. [color=662d91]"Oh, Manny! Didn't hear you come in."[/color] It was a simple greeting to his friend, seeing just have much water dripped from him as well. 

	They were two old hounds soaking wet, and probably smelled like it too. 

	Ol' Mugsy had other questions to ponder hard on, however. He knew he'd been asked tough, inner questions if and when he decided to talk with Atticus, and now Freedman, but what he had been just asked was a hard answer to search his soul for. It was a damn good question, just one he had avoided answering for so many years. Had he forgiven himself? The hard, cold and black mass threw itself against his barrier, launching assault upon assault at his position he needed to defend at all costs. Failure was not an option. 

	Failure, for who? 

	Alexander took a deep, weighed breath at the question still lingering in the damp interiour of the Chapel, yet to answer Freedman as he was asked about the court martial. It was why he was there, wasn't it? Alexander lifted his head up to look at Freedman, hearing how he'd been on both sides of it before. Alexander commended him for that, for being open about his past. He did it with such ease, such graze and matter-of-fact. How? 

	[color=662d91]"It does…the way it's been explained to me, it sounds like it. Being fair, I suppose, and I hope."[/color] Alexander feebly replied, folding his hands tightly and fighting the urge to look away from Freedman's caring eyes. Aeron had spoken about them fighting in a new war, one against the Dead. That much was true, just that Alexander never really had left the old war behind. [color=662d91]"What? Oh, yes I…I think so. I don't know."[/color] Was that true? [color=662d91]"No, never really spoke with the kid, only saw and heard him from a distance. Maybe I see myself in him, somehow. Can't say I did things right when I was his age…Never a court martial though."[/color] 

	With one last heave of his breath, Alexander straigthened himself up and looked emptily in front of him, holding back years upon years of assaults against his own defences, holding down the black dread deep inside of him. With barely a whisper, Alexander finally answered the first question Freedman had asked him. 

	[color=662d91]"No…no I don't think I have. I don't think I ever can. Only the Lord can..."[/color] 

	[i]"Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord." Alexander said to the dying man, slowly pointing his Colt at his head. "Forgive me Lord, but this one deserves it."[/i]

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[h3][color=B8860B][i][b]Nigel Cooper[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=B8860B]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Quarantine (W) -> [i]Following Volt[/i]
[i][b][color=B8860B]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	It as apparent that those having just been playing pool and poker had some history behind and between them, guessing from the tone of language they threw at each other. Verbal skirmishes, diplomatic insults and taunts charged at your enemy, all things considered it seemed light-hearted to Nigel. He himself was and never had been good at such oratory fistcuffs, save from the last incident with Thalia's cousin in the Mess Hall. Be it intentional or not, he'd made a friendly rival back then. If that relationship was going to develop into what he witnessed inside Quarantine, Nigel did not know truly if he found joy in it or not. 

	Okay, perhaps a little. A man of scrolls and swords, he still needed practice with the tounge. 

	Nigel turned to Volt after parts of the battle of mouths between him and Tesla, giving him a smile of appriciation as he and Medic were invited to join him and Thalia in the sparring. It was a pleasent surprise to be invited like that, like a Romanized Gaul being invited to visit a bathhouse. It marked another step into the process of integration, if not assimilation. [color=#B8860B]"That would be great. I promise to earn my salt, so to speak. Lead the way."[/color] Nigel said back to Volt, beginning his march into what could become an arena, only to stop for a moment to take in Wayne being his normal self. 

	Some things didn't change then. Good, don't change too much, Wayne. 

	Following the small group of fighters, Nigel turned to Medic and Volt who in all fairness would lead their little battle. [color=#B8860B]"So in what manner will we combat? Weapons or only fists?"[/color]