[center][color=#FF7F00][b]T H E   T E N A N T S[/b][/color][/center][indent][sub][color=#FF7F00][b]Location:[/b][/color] [i]The Gazebo[/i][/sub][sup][right][color=#FF7F00][b]Timeframe[/b][/color] [i]Early Afternoon[/i][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][indent][sub][color=#FF7F00][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color] [i]Gazebo Meeting[/i][/sub][/indent]
[color=#00FF72]"Incoming."[/color] Carson perked up and grabbed his MacGyver hammer.
[color=#FF7F00]"Undead?"[/color] Alena readied her crossbow, still watching her direction.
[color=#00FF72]"Alive."[/color] Carson breathed a sigh of relief after observing their gait and clothing for a moment and both relaxed again. No zombie was that clean and put together after two weeks outside.
[color=#00FF72]"Hello."[/color] Carson greeted the new arrivals, setting his weapon down again and turning to the one he recognized the best. [color=#00FF72]"Harper, was it? From the Greenhouse?"[/color]

'From the greenhouse' was about as far as Alena got, struggling in vain to recall what her name tag said, only managing to recall the look the other woman gave her the first time Alena ate at the restaurant and forgot tipping was expected in the United States. The other people were simply not connecting at all. [color=#FF7F00]"Nazdar."[/color] She greeted them cheerfully with a wave. The organizer left her with… mixed feelings. Usually if people didn’t let someone of his age take part in discussions, they had a very good reason. Not to mention the Gazebo wasn’t a particularly sheltered location, half the street could make out the gathering from their windows. She couldn’t help but bow theatrically when they were thanked for “booking the venue”.
While she didn’t have a “plan” so to speak, she took it as opening the floor to suggestions out of which a plan could be cooked up. [color=#FF7F00]”We could start by figuring out who can do what and what secondary specialization you’d like to pick up.”[/color] Alena spoke up when it looked like no one else would, ignoring the mention of a talking stick and trusting people to be able to communicate without holding something, [color=#FF7F00]”So that the person who’s, for example, a good cook also learns a little bit about farming. I’d hate to wake up one day to find the only person here who knows how to grow vegetables fell down the stairs and broke their neck.
As for food, I did intend to go hunting, but some jackass found their driver’s license in a box of frosted flakes, so that’s on hold until The Neighbors calm down a bit.”[/color] A bit insensitive perhaps, she thought, checking for any negative reactions as she remembered too late that she was in the presence of people for whom the death lurking just beyond the street were their actual neighbors, [color=#FF7F00]”I’ve got a backup plan for tonight in motion, but I’ll consider a meal for three to be great success.”[/color]

Biting his tongue as the “Shut up, I have the talking stick” meme wormed its way into his mind, Carson waited his turn before leaning forward in his chair to talk. [color=#00FF72]”We could regroup in only a few houses as opposed to being stretched out throughout the entire length of the street. Your message mentioned a fence, that would be easier and less resource intensive if we only had to fence in three or four houses.”[/color] He offered his two cents, [color=#00FF72]”We’d also only have to maintain a few houses as opposed to the whole street, could cannibalize the vacant ones for materials and furniture, we’d burn less wood to heat them when it gets colder and more people in a house means easier watchkeeping.”[/color]
[color=#FF7F00]”Not too consolidated though. Cabin fever for one, and let’s not lose all of our food just because one house burned down.”[/color] Alena cautioned, otherwise nodding along to his suggestion.
[color=#00FF72]”You said you had some ideas yourself?”[/color] Carson turned to Jason, extending the arm that held his hammer into the middle of the group to offer it up as the Talking Stick.