Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk

Sure, go ahead and have Lorna grab them. She should be able to find use for them.

Thinking on it, though, after the emergency it might be good form to offer them to Vivian. Been through a lot, and all.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Alright, posted. Took long enough. Whoever gets the next post or two, please feel free to bunny Ash so far as it's needed to get all parties to the truck at the corner.

And remember, there's still a 9mm and a trench knife that someone needs to claim before we get to the killing. Game on.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

Ash, Lorna, & Dexter

, , &

---

Location: Newnan
Interacting With: All present in the Courthouse

---

It was risky, what the new Kukri Lady had planned. But, far be it for Ash to rain on the parade of a woman he'd just met who had proposed something unnecessarily dangerous, particularly when that danger was focused on herself, taking some of the heat off of his people. Ash's priority was the safety of the existing Newnanites, plus the two newcomers he believed he could trust; Lorna and Kris. If anyone else was willing to help, great. Today seemed to be all about earning one's place in Newnan.

The Captain laid his hands on the shiny railing of the stray gurney Zoie had mounted. He had gotten on to others about leaving them about, but it was a good day for exceptions, at least with the small rules. He glanced over their strike team, such as it was. Zoie: their resident stunt vaulter, Meg: their Wheel Man (lady), Lorna: the Occidental Samurai, Dexter: a Guy with a Hammer, and Himself: Man With Gurney.

Well, when Man With Gurney speaks, people react. And just now, Man With Gurney needed Lorna to brace the door open while he shoved a redneck gal through it, hopefully over the approaching Dead. Before they got to it, Ash gave a few quick directions to those involved.

"Kris, you've been great so far. We're almost done here. When we're out, lock up after us. Stick near Caesar or your sister, they'll keep you safe."

"Lorna! Keep our way open till Zoie's airborne, then join me up front. Got some stabbing to do."

"Dex, you help me with the gurney. When it's clear, rotate it sideways and keep knocking them back. Me and Lorna will be right beside you splitting heads."

"Meg, you stay behind Hammerguy. Get your keys ready."

Ashton looked around at all the faces assembled. Some were familiar, some weren't. But they all looked nervous. Hell, they'd be stupid not to. Or Caesar. He was asking a lot of the newer people, more than he was comfortable asking. They weren't his people to command unless they chose it for themselves, and really, no one chose any of this. The members of the community knew their duties and responsibilities, and the risks that came with being part of Newnan. These new people? They were just stuck in a bad situation. Ash really hoped he could do right by them in the meantime.

But, uncertainty be damned. Like it or not, they had a battle to fight.

"Here's the plan: Fight our way to the truck. It's a straight shot to the corner from that door. Hit the Armory. It's always manned, and the most secure building in town - the Bank, next block north. We suit up. If need be, hose each other down in guts and walk freely. Then we clean house. With me? Remember, we still have the prisoner in here somewhere. He's hurt and he ain't happy. Neutralize."

Lorna took position next to the front dropgate, already unlatching the locking mechanism. With varying degrees of anxiety, Dexter assisted Ash, each taking a side of Zoie's gurney, ready for her Radio Flyer spaceship ride through the courthouse vestibule and into the moaning throng of living dead outside. The makeshift portcullis was already beginning to raise as Ash took a deep breath.

"Get ready to pick off any that get inside, ok!" called Ash behind him, working himself up for the venture in front of him. He unsheathed his machete and lay it on the gurney, close at hand for the instant he transitioned from support to attacker."And.... GO!"

---

Black James!

---

Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower
Interacting With: Rifle Scope

---

James caught outside movement, hiding on and off as the blur of motion made its way toward the Armory. Unwilling to pick off one of their own, James peered through the new rifle's superior scope, ready to identify and potentially cover or destroy. "C'mon, you..." he whispered, "Gimmie somethin' to look at..."

From down below, he thought he heard Ash's voice mention something about the prisoner loose in the building. "Watching that six. Heardja, bossman." He risked a wary glance below, before returning to scan the outside. James would feel much better once he got someone to help hold his position. Then again, he'd feel much better with a hard beverage and safe walls, too. One thing at a time.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

In the interests of moving things along (and because I'm due for a post, it being four days since my last), I am taking @Charnobylisk's offer to bunny Lorna for the next segment of time.

Further, I am somewhat sad to report that it has been eight days since @Plasma has posted, without word given to Lady A. Because of this, I have been given the task of bunnying Dexter, until the issue resolves itself. Depending upon my mood over the next couple of posts, it could resolve itself by means of him being shot in the foot and duck-taped to an office chair, then pushed down the street as a decoy. Perhaps he will play a pivotal role in Operation Meatshield.

It is indeed even possible for Dexter to valiantly save the day, and be rewarded by an all-you-can-eat shrimp buffet, where in an effort to get as many of the prawny bastards into his facehole as possible, two-fists it with the shrimp forks only to erupt into a massive sneeze, planting his fists onto the table with the tines pointed straight up; his mighty sinus evacuation rocking his head forward, impaling both eyeballs in the process. The resulting chaos that ensues because of the shock and horror of having two smallish bits of three pronged flatware embedded in one's face and dripping with previously interior vitreous humor taking advantage of him, Dexter might find himself blindly running at a stumbling, staggering gait through the last remembered open exit, only to fall into an open manhole. Unfortunately, his forks (as he has become one with them in the last few seconds) catch on the inside rim of the round steel hole, altering the trajectory and spin of his Flailing Almost Corpse, resulting in him splorting headfirst into a great mound of semi-solid raw sewage, wherein he spends his last few gasping seconds with mouth and nose full of the awful, sour-ass softserve, contemplating his place in the immediate ecosystem: whether rats and/or centipedes will make a home from his remains, and if his rectum will serve as the most logical entryway. Luckily, he will be dead long before the crap has a chance to infect his fresh eye wounds. Unfortunately, he's going to turn.

Well, I'd better get to that post. Have a blessed day.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp

Interacting With: Medieval X-Men, Cremwise, Cyneburg

Silence, except for the wind, caressed Keystone's awareness of Self. His extended meditations began to fix his mind into a state of hyperinformative insight, wherein great truths of himself and the land around him began to unfold, as the petals of a great water flower may; slowly and with great deliberation, true enlightenment hidden inside.

Keystone's need for violence, his overly protective nature for both himself and others, coupled with his unfathomable depths of anger, began to unravel and fall away as the pure, golden light of his soul - his inner being, his ideal, enlightened, personally aware, inner Self - began to rise from the darkness and muck of his psyche's defenses and personal baggage, to assert itself as the rightful, enlightened, and potent force commanding the powerfully conditioned physical form of Keystone, the resulting amalgam being the perfection of mind, body, and soul, raising him from the common mundane origins from which he came.

The Perfect Warrior. A force of nature. The ultimate incarnation of Keystone. A thing which, given time, may very well be deified.

And then it fell to crap.

A moment before his great transcendence, a call to arms sounded in the form of, "We got company and it ain't the friendly sort this time." The uncouth brawler's sense of earthly duty pulled him from his illuminating reverie as he sprung up, fully awake and ready to run at full tilt, if need be.

Keystone's hoisted his pack and hung it from the cart, tossing a suggestion at Cremwise. "You ought hitch up horsey on the quick, it's soddin' off time." He disengaged the slip knot holding up his tarp underneath the wagon, crudely balled up the apparatus, and sandwiched it next to the cargo. Ready to go in ten seconds. Not bad, considering the circumstances. Then again, minimal preparation in the evening makes for minimal effort necessary in the morning.

The large man noted with some interest that one of their recent, veiled acquisition shifted from from a woman into a large, ursine beast. While it wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen in his adventuring career, it was the first time he'd actually witnessed it this closely. Curiosity (and, if he were honest with himself, a bit of alarm) turned his head in her direction. Yeah, he'd heard of woodland folk who could skin-change. He'd just never been on a job with one, owing to his urban upbringing and his occupation. Not a lot of opportunity for professional crossover there.

This upcoming danger did mean one thing - his hope for oat bannocks and strong tea was dashed, at least for the present. More pressing things took priority, namely the safety of their charge and his wares, at least until they're offloaded in the next town. If they made it out unscathed as well, bonus.

Keystone was ready to fight, even if his lack of weapons or armor (outside of his masterful leather coat) indicated otherwise. Still, despite his wary nature, he couldn't help himself. Nodding to the Bear-Lady, but focused on the surrounding woodlands, he queried, "Oi, is it true, then? You lot shit in the woods?"

One step from enlightenment, indeed.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

Ashton Holloway

---

Location: Newnan
Interacting With: Newnanites, Zoie, Maria

---

Ash's native Virginian accent was somewhat more pronounced; it tended to flare to greater intensity when he was stressed, tired, or a little bit tipsy. Today's events definitely qualified as stressful. In comparison, Zoie's south Georgian accent seemed to engulf the very air in front of her. Perhaps today, Ash wouldn't be so self-conscious about his rural background.

His momentary annoyance at the presumptuous behavior of the new lady was sidelined by the new information she brought to the fore. The invaders from "Eden" had pulled away, leaving a few stranded. Ordinarily, a skillful commander would allow for a point of escape; an opposing force with no means of egress would become desperate, dig in, fight as people expecting to die. According to Zoie, however, these men would be desperate anyway, filled with a need to return to their home but fearful to do so emptyhanded. Unwilling to leave, afraid to return. Yay, fanatics. That was just the cherry on top.

Thinking back on it, Ash was honestly surprised they hadn't run into an Apocalypse Cult before.

"Never heard of Eden. Sounds fun." he remarked in a hollow voice, as if his mind were partially elsewhere. "Gimmie a minute, before we're out."

Ashton got a distant look as he stepped toward the body of his former commander. Leann died in defense of her home, even if it was unawares. At least she was granted a quick death, and would not rise. For many, that was as good as one could hope for. She deserved better. At least it was clean. He knelt beside her and bowed his head, silently saying his goodbyes.

Sentiment over, Ash gathered the formidable woman's armaments; her 9mm, clip and knife, then paused. Reaching out gingerly, he removed her rank insignia - the silver oak leaves that marked her as a Lieutenant Colonel in life, and a lifetime ago besides. He put them into a cargo pocket, rose, and saluted the fallen soldier. Ash found it almost humorous, really, that this was almost exactly how he got his last promotion. It dawned on him suddenly, that Leann's death put him fully in charge. This was his show now, so long as he could keep it together.

When he agreed to follow the Lt. Colonel's lead and put his own people under her, it was under the proviso that if the Newnan situation did not work out, they would continue with his original plan to trek it farther south and find a nice island somewhere. Maybe that would happen still, but by all that was holy (and a few things that weren't), it was going to be their decision to make. Some random asshats and a downed wall weren't going to chase them out of their home. No matter what happened after this day, they were going to take their town back.

Sorrow, loss, fear, fury; all of the emotions of the day swirled within him. His psyche was divided between the Man and the Soldier, the Soldier being what he thought Newnan needed. Maybe Ash was wrong. He needed these feelings, needed to care about the people around him. Cold, distant, yeah. That was just him. Time to put away the bullshit defense mechanisms and start pushing back, with every tool at his disposal.

"It is with heavy heart that I relieve Lt. Colonel McCormick of her duties." he said, turning back to meet the faces of those present. "The moment Vivian is awake, please tell her she is now the acting Second. When Caesar is done with that other Doc, let him know that he takes MY place on the event of my death. If I go down, I want a warrior leading the charge."

"Zoie, thank you. I will defer to your experience. You want to flush them out while the Dead still roam the streets? Hell of an undertaking. Give me your thoughts on how." Before she could begin, Ash raised his index finger, emphasizing a last-second thought, "So long as that plan has us stopping by the Armory first. If that's their primary, I want in there ASAP. The toys in there will help make these Eden-people's lives very short and interesting."

"James can give us cover from up high, during. Maria, I want your bow up there, too. And Maria, please," he handed Leann's walkie out, and tapped one on his belt, "Let's keep in touch."

Ashton set Leann's handgun and knife on a nearby table. "Anybody needs a weapon, better take 'em. Leann wouldn't want people in danger out of sentiment."

---

Black James!

---

Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower
Interacting With: Sidd

---

James took the weapon from Sidd with a small amount of awe. Yes, this was a fine rifle, wielded expertly by the lady who, until earlier today, was the best long-range shot they had. Now, James was good. The best he knew personally, until he met Alicia. James hoped that he would do his fallen friend proud.

He set his Barrett aside for the meantime and checked his new acquisition. This would be a better choice for the work he had to do. The Barrett, to be frank, was WAY too much gun for a simple point & click. This weapon was designed to be anti-personnel. His own was made to silently explode engines from two miles away. Too much gun can sometimes be as bad as not enough. Sometimes. This was the better tool.

He looked through the scope, adjusting for various factors. James even found a bit of flotsam blowing in the breeze to test for wind direction and speed. Then he set to scanning the area, taking a look for people that didn't belong. If he could deliver a quick and quiet lead lobotomy to one or two of the interlopers in the meantime, all the better. While making his scan, he spoke aloud to Sidd,

"Young sir," he began in a thick Georgian accent, "You ain't no mere Weapon Delivery Boy. You a solid Weapon Delivery MAN. An' I mean that."

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp

Interacting With: The Earth, Sky, and his own thoughts

Keystone preferred sleep. Actual, honest, log-sawing sleep wherein nocturnal visions of tansy cakes and peppermint creme may chance by, (properly served by that barmaid from the previous evening, Brighid). Instead of sleep, however, he got an interesting mental exercise that kept his mind focused in the state of the Present, without any conscious review as to what went on prior to that moment, nor contemplation about what may happen after said moment. The otherwise unrefined, underclass brute was keyed in to his personal lines of energy, the details of his surroundings, and precisely how and where they came together in the seamless dance of the ebb and flow of positive and negative forces; both apart from and a part of his environment.

The practical benefits to this were profound. He had used this technique several times in the past when full sleep was ill advised. It not only eliminated the need for it, this particular form of meditation allowed him to become a conduit for energies around him, refreshing his own in half the time it would ordinarily. Simultaneously, it gave him profound awareness of his surroundings. To anyone examining the burly fighter, he was merely sitting, half at attention, staring straight ahead with barely a breath moving past his lips. Seemingly disconnected with the world, despite the gross inaccuracy of that assumption.

Still, he preferred sleep. It had the potential to be so much more pleasant.

Sona had come to join him for watch, only to warm herself and settle in soon thereafter. No matter, Keystone was still on the job. The newer members of the group came for their turns at watch and left as they had agreed, yet there sat Keystone; still, quiet, am impossibly focused on everything and nothing at the same time. True, he had expected odd looks from these people. The uninitiated or unaware often would stare, possibly test his patience by waving their hands in front of his face or, more stupidly, tossing things at him to elicit a response. Often enough, people like this had a black eye to explain to their friends later on.

Many people engaged in this practice, resting meditation, for the purposes of gaining greater understanding of themselves and the world around them. While such enlightenment was a noble aspiration, it was not the primary motivator for Keystone that evening. No, the brutal cranial percussionist maintained his spiritually ascending vigil for one reason only:

He didn't really trust anyone or anything about this situation.

He had met his teammates the day before, and some of their actions honestly concerned him. He didn't know these newcomers to the camp, and he was very wary of their presence. He didn't trust the woods, what with a full out war kicking off. Not the birds, not the trees, not the ants marching one by one to carry away a fleck of sugar yam from last night's meal. He especially didn't trust whoever was lurking out in the woods still, and did not intend to be set upon unawares.

As a matter of technicality, Keystone required four hours of meditation to fully function, replacing more mundane rest; but he could remain in that state for a very long time if he so chose. Again, technically, he could stay in meditation indefinitely. Practical reasons prevented this, of course. Eventually a lack of water would claim him, or any number of physical necessities. The mind was strong, but the physical body bore with it the limitations of humanity. Still, he could exist like this for a long, long time, with perfect awareness.

This perfect awareness allowed Keystone to realize that their Kyra had readied an arrow. Now, whether this was a ritual, performed every time she takes a guard position, or an active sensing of danger, the large man could not say. He remained as he was, seated and meditating.

Maybe, as the sun crested the horizon, he could get to work on breakfast. But that was still a little way off.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk
Cool deal. Honestly, I may have to change the face claim for James. I just punched in physical characteristics and used the first pic that came up - i think it's someone's profile pic.

That aside, work may have me out late today. If it's looking that way, I will send you a PM and have you bunny Caesar for the sake of expedience. Shouldn't be an issue, but fingers crossed.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

Ashton Holloway

---

Location: Newnan
Interacting With: Newnanites, Survivors

---

It seemed that the second Ash ordered the windows barred and curtained, a melee broke out in front of him. This was the opposite of good. More noise was a horrible idea, though from the looks of it, someone deserved a beating.

Trying to determine intangible concepts of the brouhaha, such as who was "right" ad who was "wrong" were pointless. In his mind, the best option was to go with whomever he trusted, and be damned the point of the fight so long as it stopped. In this instance, the people he trusted were Maria, Lorna, and Kristina. They looked pissed.

The lady with the kukri knives jumped up to engage Lorna, who was presently engaged in monkey-stomping another of the new recruits. Ash had to admire the Marine's efficiency with the very unsubtle art of Boots & Knuckles, despite the counterproductive effect it had on their situation. Still, he wasn't about to let a squabble get them all killed. Especially after he had just issued an order for the defense of their position. With this in mind, the turned with half-raised carbine, giving serious consideration to ending the conflict with two well placed finger squeezes.

Unfortunately, that too would have been counterproductive.

The Kukri Lady didn't go after his new friend with full hands, which was a supplementary reason not to fire, either. And she was kind enough to hold the door for them. Ok, maybe it was a misunderstanding, but there was obviously bad history here. Ash didn't know enough about it to act - yet. There was so much to do before dealing with this new wrinkle.

Rather than continually mentally referring to this woman as The Kukri Lady, Ashton decided to give her a name, on the temporary, until the opportunity presented itself to learn her actual name. To him, she seemed like a... Zoie. Definitely a Zoie. Ok, until he got the skinny, he would internally call her Zoie. Seemed to fit. Armed with this new level of intellectual preparedness, he slowly lowered his weapon and listened to the lady speak, now that the immediate emergency was done.

Zoie certainly spoke in a manner often attributed to the Great Southern Writers of American history; something of a Twain-y twang rung out as her various Y'alls and Heart Blessings intertwined with colorful metaphors, birthed of agricultural or local culinary pursuits. Said manner of speech spilled from this ...Zoie... with the speed and grace of someone birthed in a region known for boiled peanuts and a'muddin'. Nonetheless, the lull in the violence and information dump about this new adversary was welcome. Eden. Sounds lovely. Ash wondered how it would look on fire, sparks from the massive blaze rising into the night sky like so many fireflies traveling heavenward. The screams of those inside would be music to make love to.

Ok, that was a little dark, even for Ash. Focus on work, get your head in the right place, your people need you.

What perked Ash's bother, and boy did it, was Zoie repeating his order from moments earlier, and assuming authority. Ash's eyes focused on the newcomer, as he spoke deliberately, in a low, even tone. "I'm glad you agree, ma'am. We have protocol for this." he kept his eyes on Zoie, but addressed the women behind her, "Maria, if you would, please take your sister to secure bottom floor. Bars, curtains, doors; like I said earlier. You know the drill. I shouldn't have to repeat myself, nor should someone have to repeat it for me."

Ash refocused his speech to Zoie, with cold voice but diplomatic choice of phrasing. "I admire you taking the initiative to solve the problem at hand. You obviously know what you're doing. But, I don't know you well enough to feel comfortable with you ordering my people. That being said, we are getting back on the clock."

"Plan is this: Everyone that's able makes a push to the motor pool. We get vehicles, we lead the Dead back out. Kill as many as we need to along the way. Caesar's with Doc, the sisters can hold the courthouse with James. Lorna, Ma'am, you're with me. Meg! You up for a drive?"

---

Black James!

---

Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower
Interacting With: Zoie, downstairs

---

"Hey, I'm getting help? Thanks! Is she pretty?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

Ash, James, & Jefe

&

---

Location: Newnan
Interacting With: Each Other, Survivors

---

The trio of Newnanites, plus one newcomer, hacked and fought their way to the Courthouse door. As they neared their intended destination, the herd of the Dead thinned, courtesy of the efforts of those who had already made it in. They were home free. They had this. Pace quickened as the ground opened to them, permitting greater effort to be put toward pumping knees and working elbows. Leann stayed behind to keep the main door open. They could see details inside the building; windows and pre-existing artwork, interior doors. They had this.

Shock almost stopped their advance, very nearly overriding survival instinct. Nearly. From an unknown source, a spot appeared on her forehead. It was about the size of a nickel on the one side, red and weeping, but judging by the splash on the door behind her, the exit wound was about the size of a coffee cup. Eyes glazed and fixed as the power to stand left her body. Leann, sorry, Lieutenant Colonel Leann McCormick, Commanding Officer of the Newnan Safe Zone, left this earth due to hostilities by an unknown power. Leann was down, and there was no helping her.

This would not go unanswered.

A strange shape zoomed past the four of them. From a momentary glance, it looked like the world's most active session of firearm-inclusive coitus. Still, not the strangest thing they had seen that day. The ridiculousness of the situation snapped them out of their momentary shock, (well, Ash and James, anyway, Caesar had been numb to most carnage since the eighties) and they pushed forward at a full run, now that the way was clear.

The lady with the kukri knives from earlier, Ash noticed with momentary annoyance that she was using firearms. As it turned out, others were, as well - One of James's finds and Leann, to provide cover. It was necessary; couldn't really fault her (or anyone else) for it. He just wished it wasn't necessary to make that kind of noise this close to their inner sanctum. It would draw more of The Dead to them soon. Still, the same lady stopped to take Leann's position, holding the door open for the last of them. Moreover, the new guy took the time to get Leann's body into the courthouse, a thing for which he was pleased. They were getting in, and they could secure the building. The rest of the citizenry would have to hole up until the Leads could come up with a plan of action.

Ash stopped right before the door, ushering in Caesar, James, and their new addition, Dexter. He then snatched up Leann's dropped High Point 995 Carbine and sped inside, securing the door and lowering the security gate behind him. "James!" he called, a little loud now that they were indoors, "Take that cannon you've got up to the Nest, perforate some warm bodies if you can. You're our sniper, now."

James looked confused, if but for a second, before he unslung his Barrett and ran for the stairs. "Oh, yessah, Massa Ash, sir." he mumbled to himself, not out of disrespect but attempting to break his own tension with humor, "Ol' Black James'll be happy, shoot him some bitches fo ya, Massa..."

The overalled country man of Middle-African descent, slinging a .50 sniper system, muttering something about the tribulations of Kunta Kinte, quickly made his way up, up, up, to the clocktower atop the municipal building that served as their main, central structure. He set up in a shady spot, and looked about to see what he could see.

Meanwhile, Caesar strode briskly into the Infirmary, proper. He took one look at what was going on with Leann. He looked to the new Doctor. Then he looked to the uncertain Sidd. Still without speech, he hurriedly scrubbed his hands and forearms with raw alcohol and stared at the younger man again, his desire for Sidd's absence growing. Not just for his sake, mind you. It was fairly common knowledge that Caesar and Vivian had a relationship (of sorts), and he spent a bit of time in here. Plus, the old man was trained in some form of medical care. He wouldn't be quite as out-of-place.

And though he wasn't going to say anything, the kid looked like he could use a break.

Still, his thoughts remained unvocalized as Caesar walked to the table opposite the new French doctor. He nudged Sidd with his elbow, and nodded to the nearest point of egress. Still without speech, he glared at the doctor, waiting for what he'd require next.

Back near the main entrance, Ashton checked Leann's rifle, shouldered it, and turned his attention to the building's defenses. "We need to bar and curtain these windows. Now." His voice was cold and hoarse. It was necessary, but it was also obvious that something was wrong. Ash glanced to Leann, and the trail of blood leading to her body. His face softened for just a second before the Soldier re-asserted itself. He looked to their prisoner, his face growing absolutely grim.

Much to do before he could afford the luxury of grief.