[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]1[/b] (Cells) -> Building [b]1[/b] (Infirmary)
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	Ryan's laughter irritated Ash, and was quite successful in postponing anything along the lines of trust on his part. Much as he would like to wash his hands of the man, the Edenite may prove useful. But there was no way in hell he would be allowed out until he could be counted as an ally, and not just an asset. Newnan was not the kind of society that functioned purely on a basis cold exchange of service. They lived together, fought together, shared each others' tragedies and triumphs. Newnan was a community. Admittedly, a fairly strict community held together under the rule of military law, but it damned near a family, of sorts. This man wasn't part of that, and was pushing himself farther away.

	Zoie's voice over the walkie was a blessed event. As he walked out of the Cells area and into the Lobby, he responded curtly, [color=steelblue]"Understood. Excellent news. Take as long as you need. Our new guest has requested your presence; he can wait."[/color]

	As he had just left Bridgette back there with Ryan, and as she was still packing a radio, Ash felt confident that Ryan had just heard the news that Zoie was alive, ad that Ash had related his status. Maybe that particular bone toss would get him to shut up. Admittedly, he really doubted it. But if anyone was going to out-talk the jabbery bastard with the constant threat of disembowelment, it was Bridgette. He was glad to give them some alone time, brief though it was. 

	Making his way into the Infirmary, he looked around for Astrid. Quiet lady, in direct contrast to her fellow Valkyrie. In a somewhat quieter voice, he opened conversation with her at a query: [color=steelblue]"How are our patients [i]really[/i] doing?"[/color] 

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James![/color][/h1]
[img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]1[/b] (Courthouse, Tower) -> Parking Lot between [b]10[/b] (Medical Garden) and Gilbert Street - Present location of his Smoker
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	The familiar frame of Newnan's default sniper, Guy, appeared in the tower. The last month saw the marked absence of the lanky Virginian rifleman following his monumentally poor decision to abandon post on the suggestion of a young girl he had just met. The time he had spent performing non-combative, manual labor alongside the very girl whose suggestion got him in trouble in the first place; a act that gave him a touch of perspective. His transgression didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, really, and he was certain that Ash was an overreacting jackass for threatening him with a gunshot lobotomy, but the reality of their situation occurred to him over time. A month mucking out livestock pens didn't seem so bad in hindsight. 

	In any rate, James was happy to see him. [color=firebrick]"Guy! My man... Lookin' good. Glad to be back?"[/color] he opened, handing the man the rifle standard to the post. There was no way he was giving up Vera, nor his fallen fellow troublemaker's sniper system. The weapon was serviceable enough; certainly good enough for the United States military for many years. It just wasn't a massive, tank-destroying Barret. 

	"Yessir, glad to be back." He took the rifle, inspecting it and ensuring a round was chambered. He continued, effecting an accent that was very much like Captain Ash's when he became irritated, hinting at a common ground prior to the world ending. "I'll tell you, James... Working Agriculture, when the shit goes down? Made he feel a little helpless. Hell, got me damn worried. No weapon, middle of open ground? Dunno man. Happy to be back. Tell Ash thanks."

	[color=firebrick]"Tell him yo'self. You know he ain't the type to punish after you done paid for your mistake. Anyways, you keep an eye out, I gotta tend my meats."[/color]

	James exited the tower, jogging down the steps and outside the Courthouse. His beloved smoker was still puffing away. It hadn't been so long that he needed to replace wood nor water, but some minor maintenance to the level of heat was required. Maybe a little cleanup. Nothing major. It seemed a strange contrast, the manner in which his concern for the lives of Newnan was replaced by the simple joy of smoking meat. Maye not [i]replaced[/i], but temporarily supplanted in level of emotional priority. If there was anything he learned about life Post-Outbreak, it was that you take moments of levity when you could. 

	[color=firebrick]"Few more hours, few more hours..."[/color]

	James's attention drifted to the skin he had removed earlier. Provided he left the fur on, there was relatively little to do before he turned it over to a tanner for proper handling. If memory served, he heard a rumor that one such person might be in town. Producing a blade, James laid out the potential throw rug and started cleaning it up a bit. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=c0c0c0]The Great Bazhooli[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0c830ac3-637e-4722-a654-d4192b0bd4c2.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]2[/b] (Mess Hall)
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	What a day! Very exciting. It began traveling along railroad tracks with a sometimes present cat, followed by discovering a big, big wall along the tracks that didn't used to be there. He performed a little show, got held at gunpoint and disarmed, then shuffled away to meet new people, all before the whole place came under fire by an outside group of very nasty men. Yes, this was truly in the spirit of adventure!

	Of course, taking away the dash and romance of the situation, this day could be described the same way one would a kettle cooked potato chip: Sweet & Salty. There was good potential here, maybe a place for him if mutual trust could be established. But like anywhere in this new world, tragedy was a heartbeat away. People were killed today. The Great Bazhooli was happy to be alive and with people now, but these men and women had just suffered a loss. 

	All the same, it had been a long time since he helped prepare a meal for others, let alone have a pretty girl smile at him from across a room. These were more or less decent people, from what he had seen so far. 

	The radio looked like a central part in their lives, carrying all important communications and vastly changing the tone of the day from announcement to announcement. Things visibly relaxed when the grumpy man gave an "All Clear", for instance. The Mess Hall sprung to life with a new voice letting them know that kids would be arriving soon. And [i]huge[/i] sighs of relief when a heavily accented voice proclaimed that she was taking the rest of the day off. 

	To no one in particular, The Great Bazhooli breathed out a single thought, [color=c0c0c0]"Hell of day, da. Hell of day."[/color]