ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alexander Polawski Location: The Bus (I5) -> (Q6) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The time passed for Alexander the equally old veteran as well as the generic old man - how quickly it passed was up for intense scrutiny and questioning. It was not the case that he did not pay attention to Daytona nodding back to him, neither Thalia nor Manny passing him before Atticus the preacher spoke up. He was not ignoring them, neither those he cared less about and those he cared immensly about. No, it was rather the polar opposite. His mind drew him towards those very special people, both alive and now long-since gone to their Lord.

Leaning his head up against the glass window of the school bus, Alexander listened idly to what was said by those in charge of the bus, though his mind was far, far away in deep thought. Something was swurling and drenching his mind. People, words and memories that reminded him of his past. Haunted? Perhaps, perhaps not. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Atticus telling them to be armed when they went outside, but the only thing he could picture were a couple of images.

One of himself, armed with a M16A1 5.56 at the firing range somewhere in the US, training to be a decent rifleman before he was chosen to be the radioman and token sitting duck of the squad. He'd never touched a rifle in his life, let alone a weapon besides the normal knife or broken beer bottle from his father. Armed. Armed and dangerous, and that was meant to keep him safe?

The other memory was of an older Alexander, protecting his wife with a pistol he'd kept in their boat just in case. That was in the near past, though now it felt like a lifetime ago. And yet it was not far away, just the other side of the state of Florida, down towards the Carribean. Armed and ready to defend themselves. Judith, the one he was supposed to protect with his life, for good and bad. And yet he failed to do just that.

Looking out the window of the bus, coming up to the gate, Alexander sat for himself deep in those thoughts, separated from the current life he was living. He was safe and sound with the people he cared about, yet he felt no joy in their company. He only felt the betrayal towards those he let down.

A tear ran down his face. A single tear for the one person he'd loved, not the other one he'd betrayed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel Cooper Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Streets of CMB (L5) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel wasn't sure whether or not Thana agreed to his little jest at first, but it was apparent that Cook agreed to his promise. The neo-Roman teacher smiled back at her and nodded, agreeing to help Thana as much as he could, even if she didn't want to. Then again he was more than willing to exit the Mess Hall sooner rather than later, the onion air still hauting him as he tried a few tears running down his face. Compared to the sea water of the Gulf of Mexico, the onions were the Red Sea, and not in a good way.

One word stuck out to Nigel though, but any attempt at elaborating on it had to be cancelled as Thana looked at him, though with a smirk that made Nigel smile once again. Soon Nigel followed Thana out of the Mess Hall and out onto the humid streets of Camp Mexico Beach. It must have been how the Roman legions felt stepping onto Egyptian soil during the reign of Caesar, a foreign climate not familiar to them. The humid air hit Nigel just like it hit Thana, wiping the humidty off his face as if it hit him like a hot shower. Having given his goodbye's to both Moralez and Cook, Nigel was ready to head back to work down in Babylon. Babylon, so this meant Nigel was supposedly a Jewish slave of Thana?

Nigel walked beside Thana out onto the street, feeling the sweat start pouring down on him and his body, though he had to settle that it was better than freezing in northern Britannia, standing guard at the wall hence his name. "I know it's not for me to say, Thana, but…she was right. If you're recovering from whatever I won't poke my nose into, you have more than any right to put that load onto me. I'm ready to carry the world on my back, so to speak." Nigel referred to a certain Greecian carrying the globe, an Atlas if you would. He meant it. He was the newcomer here after all, not a veteran like the old General or even Cook and Moralez who had specialized jobs at the camp. For now Nigel was assigned to helped-duty, and he wanted to prove himself.

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

@Haydrian CindelDoing well all things considered! The country is slowly opening up again this week, so been able to go do some shopping again. I think Norway has gotten it somewhat under control.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alexander Polawski Location: Assembly (P) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was difficult for ol' Mugsy to believe what they were about to do. Not only was Alexander going to give his final goodbye to the crazy Kiwi and equally mad Texan he'd only gotten to know so briefly, not considering how much both of them had meant to him and those alive he held close to heart - The entire group of newly arrived survivors had been given that same chance, all going once in an orderly fashion and with enough time to pay their respects: A proper burial, one he'd wish himself get when it was his time. Camp Mexico Beach, this place was fast becoming his home.

Alexander fought the urge to shed a tear, looking briefly up into the sky as if to pour it back whence it came from. People stood scattered closely around the Assembly, all known faces to the old veteran, some more than others. Atticus and Ash had been talking, Tatiana and Jack stuck together, the two young ladies did the same. No doubt that the same thoughts passed through their minds as his own.

Then there was Thalia and Manny. Thalia went to talk with her brother, the dramatic type who the Roman fella had made quick friends with, maybe. The last thing she'd told him passed through his mind again, putting a smile on his old face. She was a good girl, he stuck by those words. An angel. Then it was Manny, his fellow baby-boomer. Alexander looked back over at him with the same smile on his face, listening to how his day had been. Normal conversation. "Well look at you then, Mister fancy-pants cleaning director. Sounds like you're moving up the corporate ladder quickly." Alexander replied to Manny, before hearing Atticus announcing the plan for the short ride.

Alexander did as told and entered the bus like the others, making sure to give Daytona the driver a good old nod and a "Good afternoon.". Soon Alexander was seated amongst the others in the bus, silently looking out the window like he'd done when they first arrived, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Not a sound was heard inside however, as if they were all silent. Only images. Stills of people he missed. People he'd lost, people he'd killed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel Cooper Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For a moment Nigel felt light-headed and dizzy, briefly grasping tightly around the handle of the cart now that he stood in the Mess Hall. He didn't know or think of why he felt like that, only reasoning in his dizzy state that he'd perhaps pushed himself a little too hard in the heat outside or something. It sure made it difficult for a moment for him to focus, meaning he didn't entirely grasp some of the conversation happening around him. Though he did manage to look up at Cook as she came out to meet them, giving her a polite nod as if to say "Yes, quite well beside this headache…"

Eventually Nigel's senses returned to him, allowing him to finally grasp what he was supposed to be doing. The cart, yes. Cook had just asked him to push the cart into the kitchen itself, situated at the back of the Mess Hall. He looked over at Thana and gave her a thankful nod, confirming her directions after her with a "Kitchen, straight back on the left. Got it, be right back." He told her, commencing the movement of the pseudo-siege engine towards the kitchen.

Nigel's eyes began to tear up as soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen, almost wondering what traumatic event had befallen him to have him cry. Moralez sure didn't remind him of any terryifying knife-wielding Gaul who'd terrified him outside the walls. Then it hit him, just like the smell hit his nostrils. Onions. Fighting the urge to rub his eyes, Nigel thought back to when his mother farmed and cut onions when he was a kid. Yeah, it was the same feeling. Pushing the cart to where he was told to place it, leaving it by the preparation sink and giving Moralez a friendly, albit teary greeting. "Here you have it - gifts from Poseidon himself. Hope this comes to good use."

Nigel made an effort to exit the kitchen faster than he'd entered, sniffing badly as the tears kept coming even as he put the kitchen behind him. Seemed like Cook was concerned with Thana and her health, though Nigel could hardly blame her. From what Nigel had seen of Thana the Ahenian she was pushing herself, even if she was doing a fine job out of it. It was hardly in Nigel's place to intervene, though the neo-Roman took his time to carefully wipe the tears away before he said anything. "I'll try to do as much as I can for her. I'm her personal assistant/slave today after all." Nigel said to Cook, turning to Thana and giving her a wink. "Can't promise she'll listen to me, she's much wiser than that, but I'll make a Heruclean effort. I'm ready to get going, shall we?"

Current Mood in One Gif

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

Richard Barker

The boxer old-timer Ambrose was a curiosity in himself, with the body of a speeding freight train but the voice of Ted Lewis and His Band. Or perhaps the comparison with a friendly bull would be more fitting. Either way, the calm and collected response from Ambrose seemed to ease the tension in the ruined room, spreading over to the other members of the Jeremy and Harry Letter Association. Richard nodded in agreement with Ambrose's question, fiddling idly with the cigarette between his fingers as he looked casually, though systematically around the room. He was waiting for some answers.

"Sensible food for thought you just said, Mr. Smith. Ferd, may I call you Ferd or Fred?" Richard asked after being at the recieving end of Ferd's cryptic words of wisdom. It payed off to be careful, but Richard wasn't really impressed by his caution - it sounded more like common sense to him. Then again common sense was a rare commodity these days. Richard listened intently to Ferd's explaination, noting that he and Val really hadn't gotten far before Ambrose and himself showed up. What made Richard retrieve the cigarette to his mouth was Ferd's concern Jeremy's house couldn't possibly have decayed this much. "Well to be honest, I was here too a few years ago myself, and it didn't exactly look like the Iroquis New York. More like a Flophouse, if you'll excuse my frankness…"

Richard's thrown-in comment was cut off by the shouting outside, another man joining the merry men of Arkham. The private detective's hand instinctively reached for his piece, the sudden apperance of the man probably how the two others had felt about Richard and Ambrose. The jam was squared out pretty quickly, thankfully, upon Ferd getting his ID and name, while the kid sheepishly smiled at them. "James Anderson…hey, ain't you the newshawk with them weird tales? Odd stuff, but a good read. Now this is a strange bundle of plugs. Richard Barker, private eye." Richard told James the writer, reporter or whatever the guy was. At this point his cigarette was also a sagging piece of half-burned paper, prompting Richard to toss it far out of the door while turning back to Ferd.

"Like I said, I'm not concerned about the shitty state of the house. Probably had the bad luck of getting the house built by some builders who chilesed him. Used faulty materials and whatnot, wouldn't be the first time." Richard had been in no mood to look for the unexplainable, rationalizing the decay like the private detective he was, however wrong he may or may not have been in his words. Fiddling for another cigarette, lighting it and taking the virgin drag, Richard turned back to the others. "Like Ambrose said earlier, I've got no idea who this Harry guy is, and only met Jeremy a few times rather briefly. That buddy in Boston I mentioned? Got him to do some digging on Harry Everfield. Maybe he owed some money to the Mob, didn't pay up and got roughened up? That letter of his wasn't exactly well-written." Richard decided to open up on, resting the cigarette in one hand while the other scratched his visible scarred noes.

"Anyway, Jeremy Stockhold hired me to retrieve a book of sorts. Short version is that I got it for him, got paid and never saw him again. It was the oddest thing…so unless he's returned from what I can only assume was North Africa and now is cheesing it upstairs…" Richard continued, placing the cigarette firmly between his lips and making his way upstairs calmly while keeping contact with the others. "I'd like to get some detective-ing done while that nosey goose outside leaves us alone. Having tea-time chatting in a presumed missing person's burgled house is something the cop in me would rather avoid."

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

Richard Barker

So Richard had been right when he though he knew who Ambrose Tull was. That was a good sign, at least his skills weren't dulled by the absurdity of the current rainy situation. "What can I say? I use my head for more than just holding my hat." Richard quiped back at Ambrose the massive boxer, taking a drag of his cigarette while emitting the parts of the story where Richard had attended the boxing match in order to snoop on a criminal. Don't get him wrong, the match was good and all, from what he'd gathered afterwards.

It was a good thing that Richard had Ambrose on his side - at least he was pretty sure the boxer with a silver tounge was, certainly he was backing him up at this point-, since the duo of Val and Ferd refrained from giving them a straight answer themselves at the moment. The private detective smoked his cigarette as they spoke, his eyes scanning the guys' coats for more guns than the one Val had pointed at him. He payed special attention once Val slipped his hand back into his coat, though he was only pulling out…more letters? "Yeah that's the same letter I got a week ago. Wrap me up in ribbons and call me an adopted puppy, never took that Jeremy for being a solid pen-pal." Richard commented on the letters, looking up at Val with a thoughtful look on his face. The cogs were moving up there. Why had they been gathered? "I think the word you're looking for, Mr. Val, is A Wild Goose Chase."

Apparently that was the que for the loud-mouthed guy, who'd asked for a painted window, to finally open his gob again. Through the conversing he'd sized up Richard, as if he was trying to get an angle on him. Ferd had feared that they were the same guys who'd ransacked Jeremy's house. Understandable, though Richard could only nod his head a little to it as he looked back Ferd and Val at the house. "True. But if you're asking me, then we'd probably gone through the back and gotten the jump on you two. Walking up the front porch in broad daylight doesn't exactly scream out 'goons'…" Richard replied, taking a drag while letting his eyes scan the rainy clouds above them, before continuing. "Then again, ain't no sunshine here either."

Finally it was the turn of Ferd to hand over some ID, which Richard gladly accepted. His suspicions had been founded then, the guy didn't carry a badge after all. The name on the guy's driving license stuck out to him, though the name "Ferd Smith" was so generic that even Richard couldn't pinpoint its origin. But now he had a name, a face and a letter. That was progress.

"Yes please, I though you'd never ask. I feel like I'm in a bad German surreal picture with all this rain." Richard was more than happy to continue the conversation inside, pulling up his coat as he followed Ferd into the hell-raised house. Rot and mould all over the place. Yeah, whorehouse at low tide had been a pretty good description of the joint. Richard leaned up against a solid wall, holding the cigarette between his fingers and shaking his fedora off water. "Couldn't tell you either, even if I'd wanted to. Never heard of this Harry-fella before I got the letter, and even then I've only met Jeremy twice. Couldn't tell you why I or any of your were written to either. So, what have you poked around and found out so far?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alexander Polawski Location: Hospital (B) -> Assembly (P) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The roll over to the Hospital went as smoothly as anyone could have wished for, and which Alexander was grateful for that God had decided there had been enough falls already. Alexander sincerely didn't want to be a bother for anyone, especially not the lovely people pulling his gurney across the asphalt. He quietly nodded to Thalia's reassurance not to worry about it, though he did. It was an old habit, and those rarely went away. It didn't help when his dear Angel flatly told him what he was saying was "Bullshit", putting a brief grin on his face. "If you say so, dear. Thanks."

The check-up at the Hospital went just like any regular check Alexander had gone through before the world went to shits, perhaps with a signifecant less ammount of people cluttering the halls. The X-ray brought back memories of his time in 'Nam, just after he'd been wounded in combat. Back then the bullet wound hadn't been a pretty sight, lots of blood pouring out before the medic managed to stop the bleeding. As far as lasting damage however it would only leave a pretty clear scar at his thigh. Today's escapade would leave an even less visible mark - a bruised butt. The doctor called, surprisingly "Doc", said it would be fine if only painful for a few days. At being offered aspirin later on, Alexander would have raised his hand and politely declined. "I'll do my best without, getting my leg chopped off hurt more. But thanks Doc, I'll see." Alexander would tell him, taking the oppertunity to re-attach the prostethic leg back onto the stump. No falling as the suction held it firmly in place.

Soon enough Alexander followed Thalia out of the Hospital, heading for the Assembly where they would take the short-awaited visit to the graves. Dreaded was a word that crossed Alexander's mind as he walked with Thalia, silently wondering what it would look like even though he knew perfectly well what it would be like. He'd attended too many funerals not to know. During the walk Alexaner looked briefly up at Thalia and throw in a quick quip: "Thanks for sticking with me, Angel. Don't call me Gramps again though, or I'll have to kick your ass."

Looked like they weren't the first people to show up at Assembly. It shouldn't have surprised the old veteran really, seeing as what he'd been through earlier that day. Many of them were people Alexander hadn't been with before they all showed up here, but he knew they were Thana and Ash's people. Tatiana the troubled lady who'd told him to breath, Jack her husband, the Padre Alexander still wanted to do some praying with, and a few others. Manny was there too, provoking a smile and a wave from Alexander as he was reunited with his fellow Baby Boomer standing with the Padre. "Hey Manny, how are you holding up? Didn't get to talk to you at lunch. And hey Padre, I take it you're in 'charge' of the cemetary so to speak?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel Cooper Location: M5 -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel couldn't help noticing the shudder than ran through Thana after Ash had left, as if something had been going through her mind. What it was he couldn't say or even begin to guess, especially not in the presence of Thana herself. It wasn't in his place to claw his way into the minds of others, he wasn't a shrink or brain surgeon after all. So when Thana told him that they should get the job over with, he happily nodded in agreement and pushed on the cart after her lead. He threw one last look over his shoulder back at where he'd seen Hunter being escorted, wondering what in the name of Hades that boy had done.

Newnan, the name of a settlement which Nigel had been told of earlier. So the people were not someone from Camp Mexico Beach, he surmised, but had perished "a while ago" as Thana said. The place called "Eden" he couldn't place however, though by the way Thana said they'd taken Eden, something told Nigel that it had been far from the biblical paradise the name alluded to. Nigel didn't comment on Thana's explaination first, simply taking in all that she had to tell. Of course he was curious as to what the other groups had been through, symbolized by Thalia the Amazon's missing arm and the old veteran without his leg.

Nigel refrained from prodding Thana for such epic tales of legend, simply nodding to her words. Shame. It was a shame indeed, everyone they lost was a shame. "You're right. But it is good of you to have them buried, keeps all our humanity intact I suppose. Let us never forget those perished. Virtus junxit mors non separabit…" Nigel added himself in Latin, following Thana the last bit into the empty Mess Hall, faint voices in the distance arguing about corn bread. "Ah, nihil novi sub sole. Nothing new under the sun, people arguing about food. Personally never really eaten much of it."

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

@Haydrian Cindel "Chinatown" from 1974, starring Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway. Amazing movie, highly recommended.

The Rain In The Cycolpean City. (H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulhu Mythos Roleplay)

Richard Barker

Saying that this case was getting stranger by the minute was an understatement. As Richard walked closer towards the neglected house, rain pouring down and running off his fedora, he got a closer look at two he could see around the house - the big fella with an umbrella and the window-paint guy who'd yelled at them. There were something about the two of them, though it was the big brute of a man he recognized. The name didn't come to him at first, though it was at the tip of his tounge. Too bad the rain drowned out Richard's thoughts, not to mention the loud-mouth who talked to the unknown duo.

Richard walked up to the house just in time to stand beside the big guy, in front of the house in clear sight of the first man inside - clearly someone called "Val" was already inside tearing the place apart. Richard could see the marks in the doorframe, clear signs that someone had entered by force. Crowbars? Probably. "Yeah…strange is the adjective I was lookin' for, mister…?" Richard replied to the nameless man in the doorway, dressed in a trenchcoat too big for him to be taken seriously and a tie that'd make your mother-in-law frown. Without warning, he was told not to come any closer because of some 'developing situation', ordered to show their identification and in turn have a pocketed gun pointed at them. Well if that wasn't just peachy? "My, my, such a lot of guns in this town and so few brains…"

The guy in the trenchcoat had acted like he was a cop or something, using said jargon and calling the Italian-looking guy "partner". Richard couldn't figure out if he was lying his ass off or not, though one act stuck out to him - the moment of hesitation: the brief span of time when he 'became' a cop, as if he needed to get into a role. Either this guy was lying, or he was just a lousy cop, both of which could be true, though Richard was paying more attention to the group as a whole. And yes, the gun.

"I can answer that for ya, big bal, that's 1111 South Curlew Drive." Richard calmly answered the man named Ambrose, slowly reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out a wallet for the two 'authorities' to see. He wasn't moving quickly or violently, making sure they didn't get a chance to shoot him - unless his mouth got him shot again. "And I suppose none of you two are Mr. Everfield or Mr. Stockhold then?" Richard asked, pulling out his private detective-license from said wallet and handing it to whomever of the two guys from the house, refusing to hold his hands up and instead taking this as calmly as he could. If he was scared shitless or not was difficult to say, but having lived, worked and bled in New York made you a tough son-of-a-bitch.

"Unless you two can't read, that says I'm Richard Barker of New York City. Private detective, licensed by the NYPD. And this…" Richard introduced himself, while putting his hands back in his raincoat fingering the Colt police revolver holstered underneath. Before he could continue, the name finally popped from his mouth as he turned to look at Ambrose. "Tull…Amrose Tull, ain't it? You boxed with my Sergeant back in '15, Jackson was his name. Gave him one helluva beating, good show. But that raises some dingy questions, and I might be ringin' the wrong tooter here…" Richard nearly answered for Ambrose, his hands slowly moving in and out of his raincoat as he took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, lighting the cigarette and smoking it like he was born with it. The lighter, for a brief moment only, was seen to have the NYPD badge etched into it. Richard let the cigarette dangle loosely from his lips, eyes moving back and forth the group, his eyes only hinting at the last man across the street. "Who are you two, where are your badge, what are you two and all of us doing here, and who's the long-nose over there?" Richard took another puff of his cigarette, clearly finding some amusement in the situation, though no humour. "'cause you two better not be a pair of bunnies and off us two. I've got a pal in the Boston PD who knows I'm here. Sock me, and you'll be in a world of trouble. Understood?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alexander Polawski Location: Administration (A) -> Outside of Administration (I4) Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

'Dragon', the old callsign for Colonel Aeron Martin from an old, nearly-forgotten war from a time now long gone. Alexander nodded along to Medic talking about the General and the callsign, himself trying to think back to those younger days and see flashing images of his past. He remembered the 'Dragon' name clear as day, but the reasons for why he apparently disliked escaped his ass-busted mind for the moment. The old veteran had a good guess somewhere in his thoughts, however any attempt at sharing it was blocked by the internal dike holding back his past, only allowing an empty string of words to leave his mouth. "Dragon…yeah, not something good…"

Medic yelling at him for moving his butt over to the wall didn't help either, making Alexander sigh audibly. "I'm sorry Medic, but that was no marathon I just ran just there…" He said to Medic, breathing in and out as he looked up all three of them down there to help him - Medic, Thalia and Rolodex. With some reluctant help from them onto the gurney, Alexander was rolled out of the basement room and into the elevator- Alexander clearly heard the mention of an elevator, and hadn't it been for the fact that he had both gotten a good beating from the floor and still hadn't been reunited with his leg, he'd refused to be treated as if he was an elderly. Too bad he at that moment effectively was one, which he hated.

"Not sure I should feel privileged or entitled, haven't been lying down like this under tropical skies for years." Alexander attempted at lifting the mood, unsure of who's mood needed lifting. Perhaps mostly his own, as his disabilities came to light more than ever. Perhaps it was to show the others than he took this well enough, and wouldn't need baby-sitting afterwards? Outside the Administration Building, Alexander shaded his eyes from the Florida sun and put on a brave face, looking over to Thalia. "I'm sorry I fell, Angel, when you took that bowling trophy like a champ…You can leave with the others to the graves without me if you need to."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel Cooper Location: M5 Skills: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nigel would have a hard time forgetting the intellectual conversation he had with Thana before Ash showed up, giving Thana the Athenean a quick smile while she and Ash took the heavy liftings of the conversation. He didn't mind her now talking to Ashton, by now having figured some important bond existing between the two of them after nearly a week together. And he'd already gotten his fair share of conversational filling about Greco-Roman antiquity from the first half of the day, so he wouldn't complain. Only thing was that it made him miss Erica that little much more. He hoped she was doing fine today, wherever she was off doing her part in repairing civilisation.

The Neo-Roman legionaire didn't pay too much attention to what Thana and Ash were talking about, allowing Ash a quick look into the buckets from a reasonable distance. The longer Nigel stood there with him the more the smell pertruded his nostrils like the fangs of a snake, though less deadly. Nigel might have commented on it off-hand, hadn't it been for the pair turned and saw something in the distance. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Oh for the love of…" Nigel exclaimed, wondering if some Greek muse was playing tricks on his eyes. He couldn't believe it, but there Hunter was escorted out and off to gods knew where. "Cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare..." the Roman muttered, facepalming harder than he'd ever done in the company of Hank and Wayne. The Roman statesman Cicero was right in his words, only a fool persisted in his faults, which Hunter clearly had managed to pull off. Nigel turned to Thana as she suggested they get a move on, nodding to both her and Ash before following Thana. "It was good to see you, Ashton. Until next time."

Pushing the cart after Thana, once again back on the campaign trail of food, Nigel only thought back to the previous night and his -clearly failed- attempt at rebuilding Hunter's senses. A part of him had wanted to run over and ask for an explaination, but he knew it'd be futile. This was by no means the Roman army during the early Republican era, but Hunter must have done something to deserve a harsh reprimand. Pushing the cart Nigel wondered if he should ask Thana what Hunter could expect, but the possible answer seemed apparent. Instead Nigeld looked over at Thana and asked her as carefully and innocently as he could. "Service? I take it you've lost someone? I'm sorry to hear that…"