[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=DC143C]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e4117d5f-65c8-4b8e-98df-5810a59267c5.jpg[/img]][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] In The Truck
[b][color=DC143C]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][hr][/center]

	The idea of food was appealing to Thalia. That is to say, it was [i]always[/i] appealing to her, but the concept of breaking bread with new people had a way of bringing them closer. As much as the once formidable level of rat's asses she could have given was massively depleted, the very appearance of said [i]Hindpartus Rodenta[/i] to offer could mean a definitive difference in the amount of trust they might have for one another as they go about their epic quest to outright murder as many fuckers from Eden as they possibly could before cruising out. 

	That and, well, food. Thalia had an almost unnatural ability to pack away sustenance at levels beyond the capacity of hungry men twice her size, all without the appearance of gaining an ounce. She once postulated that, given time to prepare and barbecue sauce, she could ingest an entire roasted hog. Right about now, she could really go for that whole hog. Hell, she'd go whole hog for a whole hog. A good, cold lager would hit the spot nicely, too. Yah, some Harpoon Ale sounded like heaven. Unfortunately, all she had was an MRE. Check that: [i]Part[/i] of an MRE. 

	It was also her habit to be thankful for what she had. She got a little breakfast that morning, along with instant coffee. Now a little pre-violence snack to tide her over before she could get to sweet, sweet spoils of war. Or died. Seeing as she had places to go after today, she really hoped it was the spoils of war bit. Dying would suck. This in mind, Thalia retrieved Thana's pack and pulled out a brown-green plastic covered box with muted black letters printed upon the side, reading: [b]M[/b]eal [b]R[/b]eady to [b]E[/b]at, and ripped it open following the soft click of her automatic knife actuating. Before she started distributing the packets within, she uttered a quick, [color=crimson]"Dibs on the matchbook!"[/color]