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[h3][color=662d91][i][b]Alexander Polawski[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) 
[i][b][color=662d91]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/BBfr494/Mugsy-1.jpg[/img][/right]
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	The old and worn-out veteran knew Manny had taken his seat across from before he even looked up from his fishy bits. It was the telltale signs of some shuffling up to the table, the sight of someone in his peripheral vision and the sound of eating. More than anything though was how quiet the person was in his actions, no gaining Alexander's attention and asking for permission, nor the idle chatter that accompanied all military mess halls throughout Mankind's long history. So when he looked up from his bowl of fish chowder and saw the familiar face of Manny, Mugsy didn't seem surprised. On the contrary, the one-legged Baby Boomer smiled at his dental Baby Boomer and gave him a brief aknowledging nod, before returning to his fish. 

	While he liked Manny when his mouth ran like a monsoon, he found the silent company enjoyable as well. He was no Thalia nor Beatrice, but Manny was just as good. 

	Alexander ate a few bits of what had to be a meal cooked with not just fish, but a lot of love too reminding him of his wife's late cooking, a saddened smile flashing across his face. Good memories, bad memories, but at least in the safe enviroment of Camp Mexico Beach, Alexander felt it easier to find back to both of those. Freedman's words echoed in the back of his mind once again, eyes looking up at Manny as he saviored the moment just like he'd been told to. [color=662d91]"If you're lucky and remain on my good side, Manny, I'll dish you up of my special Polawksi fish filets! Who knows how many varations on fish they can have, especially since this is some of the better Army food I've had. And believe me, I've eaten decade-old MRS' that tasted…well, like shit. Anyway, ever spent any time fishing on a boat? You always seemed like a landcrab to me, don't know many naval dentists."[/color] 

	His conversation with Manny was annoyingly sidelined by a certain voice calling from the stage, harking back to the events Alexander didn't want to think about as he ate. He shook his head, annoyed that he couldn't get five-fucking-minutes without his thoughts being dragged through some pile of shit, one way or another. He sighed, returning to the act of eating in relative silence, though waiting for Manny to respond. Perhaps he could never escape those dark thoughts, but at least he could get distracted from them. 

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[h3][color=B8860B][i][b]Nigel Cooper[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=B8860B]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) 
[i][b][color=B8860B]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/LrnKm2S/Nigel-Hadrian-1.jpg[/img][/right]
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	Nigel had been privilged to socialise with Thalia the one-armed Amazon a handful of times before, so her brief and stone-walled response didn't come as a surprise to him. She'd been a woman of few words the first week of quarantine as far as he could remember, and the brief conversation they'd had at the bar during the beach party had given him a lesson of her way with words. That was to say, her narrow and precise usage of words, like a Cretan archer firing his arrows sparingly during battle. He'd known this when he gave her an option of silence as he sat down to eat with her, so he had perhaps learned some social skills after all. 

	Which was more the reason he found her answer as intruiging as he did. First of all she answered him, and secondly it had not been what he'd expected. Then again, what did he expect? He'd learned the way of the sword through self-practice and reenactment, while others out of the neccecaty the world ending brought with it. Her dad insisting, now that was a tale worth penning to a Roman legend! 

	Nigel slowly ate his fish chowder as he listened intently to Thalia's words, giving a half-surprised response back to Shears as he took a seat as well. [color=#B8860B]"Hmmpf…greetings."[/color] he mumbled through eaten fish, swallowing hard as he gave Thalia his mostly undivided attention again. [color=#B8860B]"A priest of War, a war-priest? Seems Fortuna was partly kind to you then, and your father taught you well, Thalia."[/color] Nigel answered in brief terms, trying not to push his luck any further. At least she had answered, and their relationship was already established as dueling-partners, so he was happy with what he got. Still was interested in the card Shears handed to Thalia and what it read, more so the look on her face. He couldn't read it though, and continued to eat in silence. Like the Romans before him, prod the defences and know when and where to strike. Not before, nor after.