[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)
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	[color=steelblue]"Let's be clear, before we continue."[/color] said Ash in a serious tone, motioning again with his fork, [color=steelblue]"I understand that Zoie has gone through a lot. If she wants to share details, that's [i]her[/i] decision, period."[/color] Ash didn't need to know. The horrible things people will do to survive aren't limited to committing distasteful acts; it included the physical and mental fortitude to endure the trespasses of others. The nature and extent of these trespasses were hers, and hers alone, unless she felt comfortable enough to tell someone. Maybe it was needed to fully recover, but (in Ash's estimation) it should never be forced out into the open, nor whispered about in the shadows. 

	[color=steelblue]"Zoie aside, drugs... have their place. The kind I'm looking for are pain suppressants, antibiotics, and the like. Some of the less charming street pharmaceuticals even have their place, these days. We have a lady in town, pharmacist. Rubbed people the wrong way on her first day, hard. If we can ever get some of that "trust" going, you two might could talk."[/color]

	The weary Captain shoveled another couple of bites into his mouth. He leaned back and stretched a bit, as if trying to relieve a sore back. [color=steelblue]"Busy day. Day isn't over yet, either. Lots to do, so I'll be direct: I want to know what [i]you[/i] think is the best course of action to keep these people safe. I'd also like to know the best route to take to make that bastard's world come crashing down on top of him - but we can get to that later."[/color]


[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) -> Building [b]E[/b] (Apartments)
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	[color=c0c0c0]"No no, Meg. Is fine. Is better than I have in long time."[/color] This was an understatement. The odd man had been roaming the railways for more days than he bothered to count. Clean, running water and an actual bed, in an area that he didn't have to personally clear of snarling corpses. He would have been willing to fight tooth and nail for just one of them. It was quite possible that his more familial instincts were reacting to these people that he had just met, psychologically drawing them in as surrogates. The Great Bazhooli had always been part of a fringe, close-knit group. Since the day of his birth, even. Logically, he knew that he might be putting his stock into this group way too soon. Emotionally, he didn't care. 

	Besides, he was an excellent judge of character. It was not something he really developed until after the Outbreak. Everyone who was Circus Folk had a little glimmer about noticing how people react. It allowed them to better work a performance or fleece a mark. The bare ability was there. He took special attention to develop it into a reliable ability, seeing as the remaining Human population would just as soon shoot you for a tin of beans as look at you, half of the time. He didn't see any of the warning signs associated with his "run like hell" instinct. Although, he did wonder how a couple of the people he had met were still alive. Must be the walls, and these people. 

	[color=c0c0c0]"Good place to put things for now. Except, quiet man vith gun following us, he has all my things."[/color]

	The Great Bazhooli glanced back to the armed escort. He really looked like he didn't want to be there. The guy who was in charge? Bazhooli really hoped that he would give him that interview, for the escort's sake. But for now, he had to think up a plan for the first half of a show that likely wouldn't involve sharp things. More was the pity about that little caveat. He was quite the artist with sharp implements. [color=c0c0c0]"This is good, very good. Now, vhere for show, what am I allowed to work vith?"[/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] Parking Lot between [b]10[/b] (Medical Garden) and Gilbert Street - Present location of his Smoker
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	James didn't notice Kristina walk up until she began speaking, evidently, so solid was his focus on the cat. It really unnerved him, but not because of some obscure cat phobia. James had simply not seen one in a while, at least not within the walls of Newnan. It seemed like a thing which should not have been, an unexpected thing that took him by surprise. As the animal snuck up to his position, James's brain simply would not register that it could have been something as mundane as a common housecat. He felt absolutely foolish. 

	[color=firebrick]"Hey hey, little lady. Pussycat done gave me a startle, that's for sure. Hey, when did we get a [i]cat[/i] in here?"[/color] The veteran hogger looked sideways at the feline as it sat there, staring at him. Or was it staring at the smoker? It was hard to say. Lord knows James would be staring at the smoker, in the cat's place. He had skipped the last couple of meals, and to be frank, his stomach was making some pretty impressive sounds now. The succulent aroma of smoke and meat effected the diametric opposite of help, in this regard. Maybe he should give it a jog over to the Mess Hall, but he was just a couple hours away from yummy, smoked meat. Then again, he didn't really [i]need[/i] to hover over the smoker. He could take a break. 

	[color=firebrick]"Hey there, Kris... Them animals, they all shoveled an fed, right?"[/color]



[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=orangered]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]2[/b] (Mess Hall)
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	The oft rude Valkyrie horked back the entirety of her meal with the sophistication and grace of a chainsaw. It could be argued that she didn't give herself time to taste the food, the counterpoint being that one would have to [i]want[/i] to taste it for that to be an issue. Before the Apocalypse, she wasn't a huge fan of cabbage. Or many green vegetables, for that matter. Nowadays, there was something about the scarcity of the stuff that made her jump for it. Even raw. This was, understandably, an interesting scenario for a lady who spent the first moments of the Outbreak on an epic quest for a Snickers and Blue Raspberry Slushie. 

	Fruit, she had always been fine with. Loved the stuff. But anymore, fruit was even more rare a find than vegetables. At this point in her life, Bridgette would grudgingly have taken a belt sander to a puppy for that bowl of peaches back at her place. As it stood, all she had to do was what came naturally: Work metal and teach people the less refined sciences or violence. It was a shame that they didn't have their own trees. She definitely would have broken out the belt sander for that.

	Her meal complete, Bridgette walked her tray over to the dish line and deposited it with a plasticy clap. She then returned to recover her arms and shield at her table. Her face betrayed a moment of hesitation, before making an unscheduled announcement to any remaining in the Mess: 

	[color=orangered]"Alright guys, here's the deal! Cap'n Ash says I can grab a couple warm bodies to help wrap up this wall repair I've been trying to do, even before those fuckshits started taking shots at us. All day. No fix. Need a hand. Asking volunteers. Next I draft a tool caddy. Who's coming?"[/color]