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[h3][color=steelblue][i][b]Ash Holloway[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=4682b4]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M)
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	[color=4682b4]"Hmm,"[/color] intoned Ash in a contemplative manner. Thana's point wasn't something that he had considered; that they were reviewing witnesses giving repetitive testimony for the sake of those who were not present. That would mean that, in addition to the general application of justice, this Court Martial was also about letting the public know. It made sense. One of the lessons of an Officer concerned the application of authority, specifically two types: Granted Authority and Perceived Authority. [i]Granted[/i] was easy. It was given to you, like a title. It was the way a career Sergeant would defer to a still-green Lieutenant, or the way a civilian employee would follow the orders of someone in a management, just because they were in charge. [i]Perceived[/i] Authority was a little different. It was knowing that the person in front of you was capable of handling the task at hand and genuinely trusting that their judgement was bringing everyone forward. It was an issue of respecting that authority, even if rank was not a factor. Or that there were looming consequences for disobeying. The Council of Camp Mexico Beach seemed to be demonstrating that they possessed both Granted and Perceived authority, moreover wanted everyone to know it before they passed judgement. It struck Ash as the right thing to do. But to her continuing commentary about the initial meeting of Hunter, he responded, [color=4682b4]"Better safe than sorry these days. Curious on how this one turns out."[/color]

	Ash's potentially too-indepth reading of the situation was cut short, his mechanism for introspection jarred to a sudden stop by Thana's comment about liking their time apart, citing that it kept her from getting bored with him. It took him a half a second to realize that she was laying on the sarcasm, especially when she brought up the bit about them proving the adage about absence making the heart grow fonder. Ash was not a fan of that saying. He'd lived it for almost a year and a half. He had to admit that it was funny, however. Ash wrapped an arm around Thana for a second and gave her a quick squeeze and half-whispered, [color=4682b4]"Oh, you're a tease,"[/color] he said playfully. [color=4682b4]"And I wouldn't have you any other way."[/color]

	Thana had finished her soup first, which was indicative that Ash was either losing his touch or that he was slowing down his usual Army pace of eating for the sake of demonstrating manners in front of Thana. She wasn't a whole lot ahead; just enough to make his last bites when she started counting down a hurried affair. The memory of the last time she counted down a minute rebounded fresh in his mind, prompting him to recover a mindset more suited to basic training. The last few spoonfuls of vegetable soup disappeared in a shovel-like fashion and he found himself scrambling to tidy up his area and get the task of putting his things away accomplished. Thana's count continued, the maddening cadence which dictated the next moments of his life, and he swore to beat it to its natural conclusion. Breezing past Thana on his way up to the front of the Mess Hall, Ash slowed to offer to take her dishes and flatware as well, then shook every leg he was capable of shaking for the purposes of outmatching the inevitable countdown. 

	By the time they met outside of the Mess Hall, Ash was smiling with a [s]cocky[/s] confident air about him. He stood to attention and threw a spot on salute, relating in chipper tones, [color=4682b4]"As ordered, Ma'am."[/color] He was only too happy to accept his prize, holding it to the same regard as any honor bestowed upon him in recent memory. It occurred to him that he really, really wasn't accustomed to smiling this much. It was something he looked forward to getting used to. 

	Returning to the Auditorium, Ash took up the seat that he was sitting before their meal break. Like Thana, he made sure to see where she was sitting, way up on the balcony, before turning his eyes to the gathering group of people filling seats. There wasn't much for him to do now except bear witness to the remainder of the trial unfolding, and he was going to do so respectfully, observing as much as he could and taking mental notes on the entirety of the situation. 



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[h3][color=crimson][i][b]Thalia Carmichael[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=dc143c]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M)
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] [s]Stealth[/s]
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	[color=dc143c]"Catholic,"[/color] Thalia enunciated, in response to Nigel's summary that her father was War Priest. Looking at the history of the Church, it wasn't a completely unfair comparison. In the case of Father Benicio Gonzalez though, it wasn't wholly accurate. She shuffled back another mouthful of bread, adding to her statement while chewing, [color=dc143c]"Wrong Horseman."[/color] While the horseman of War was an interesting choice out of the Four, her family served a different master. 

	The joke that Shears made about Joaquin being a barber didn't exactly hit Thalia's funny bone. She did give the man a deferred bob of her head and a quiet, [color=dc143c]"Nnn,"[/color] as he mentioned that her brother was a more than fair hand with a knife. Yeah, that sounded like him. And her, once upon a time. But she couldn't bring herself to force a laugh at the idea that the guy should have been a barber. A more natural bit of mirth did escape her when Shears mentioned Atticus knocking out a tooth and blessing it, though it sounded more like a misplaced snort than anything else. Thalia rarely laughed pretty. Or laughed, period. Maybe she should loosen up some. Take up a hobby. Socialize, maybe. Open up to others. The directed thought of that almost made her snort again. Not today, and probably not tomorrow. 

	A couple more ideas as to what answered the riddle on the card came to mind, but they all seemed off. Thalia gave a sigh and flipped over the card so that Nigel might see it, then stuffed it into a pocket. It was frustrating enough dealing with this semi-domestic goose chase, and she was fresh out of ideas. As soon as attention was diverted elsewhere, anywhere but on her, Thalia gathered her things on her tray and quietly rose. Hopefully, she could just disappear into the movement of people and find her way back unnoticed. Unfortunately, the same curse that was upon her once godly ability to be quiet asserted itself again. The tray slipped off of her metal hand where she had tried to balance one side of it and clattered back onto the table, drawing more attention than she liked. Exhaling with acceptance and resignation of her own failures, Thalia walked her tray up to the dump site and handled her affairs accordingly, then hit the bricks outside. 

	It was a quick enough jog back to the Education Center. And the same measured amount of time to find her seat, again. She tried to mull over the meaning of the next clue, throwing any kind of euphemism or colorful, cliched phrase into it to see what might logically stick, but it was of no avail. Then she took a different approach, considering which [i]person[/i] in Camp might fit those words. The idea now being not to figure out the riddle but to apply the words of the riddle to someone she had met in here. A lot of hands messing things up. Too many hands. Thalia was not operating out of her wheelhouse with this. Then again, her usual wheelhouse was apparently cut off from her, so this was just par for the course today. She could figure it out later. The trial was about to begin again. 




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[h3][color=burlywood][i][b]Hank Wright[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=deb887]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M)
[i][b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	[color=deb887]"You know there, Maldonado, being in charge of balls is [i]way[/i] too easy a dig to get in. Standards, sir. Standards."[/color] But even that was intended to be it's own piece of snark, as opposed to an actual admonishment. Hank gave a shrug and returned to his food, hesitant to admit aloud but fully aware of the fact that life wasn't, for the first time in a long while, particularly awful right then. The kind of [i]not particularly awful[/i] that made him start to think to the future. Specifically, his future in this place and how he might make himself useful. This idea was not to be confused with the initial plan of his and Wayne's, involving retiring on a boat someplace and fishing until they died of boredom and/or cardiac arrest. That might yet be possible, although no one here was going to hand them that retirement boat unless certain criteria was met first, not the least of which would involve, well, them being useful. So he thought to this point almost exclusively. 

	That exclusivity was shattered when Wayne fired a tiny crustacean out of his nose. Hank raised his eyebrows with some surprise, regarding the act as one might a missed putt on a golf program. [color=deb887]"Ooh... almost, buddy. Though (and this is just me, personally), I might lay off the nose candy unless we pull sentry duty. Then, I say we bring on the Colombian Pixie Sticks. Like, by the handful."[/color] Hank was a fan of purpose over pleasure, unless that pleasure involved steak and beer. Then again, that was its own purpose. 

	On the subject of serenading Ash and Thana, Hank was in full agreement with his nuthouse associate. [color=deb887]"You know, pick out their window and I'm all for it. The pipes might be a little rusty, but... Wait, there is no 'but'. It's gonna sound ass-awful. I'm in. You want to see if Sportacus wants to join? Get the band back together, huh?"[/color] Hank was having way too much fun with the idea. 

	Ordinarily, the idea of joining someone on a "potty break" might have seemed a little odd. There were two glaring facts that were appropriate to the situation, though: Anyone who spent more than a couple hours out in the world might realize, if you had to cop a squat or even just water a bush, you were in a vulnerable position and it was essential that you had someone on standby to man a rifle while you took care of business. And secondly, Hank really did have to relieve himself. [color=deb887]"Yup, keep those more aggressive suitors off of you. Gotcha, let's go."[/color] So after their moment ditching excess fluids, Hank walked alongside Wayne, opting to discuss what songs might be appropriate for a moonlight serenade until they eventually found their way back to their seats. Sure, it wasn't Court TV, but it was the next best thing. 

	[color=deb887]"Hey, Maldonado? How do you think Judge Judy would have called this?"[/color]