James Grady
Location: Ville au Camp (Kitchen House)
Skills: N/A
sounded James in agreement. And he did agree with most of what his group was saying. Most. Still, unity was important and they were brainstorming at that moment, not getting together a hard and fast plan, if indeed a plan was called for. And thinking about it, he didn't really have to agree with the plan to be a part of it. Maybe it was the horrifically mind and body altering training that he had gone through over the past ...God, how long
was it now? Well, it didn't matter. Maybe the stresses of training had refocused him into a loyal, team player, complete with the tribal affiliation of a Paradox.
Fine, he was one of the group. Go team, go. Everyone coming together in unison to address the potential threat of whatever the carnival really was when the grease paint and fried dough went away, exposing the stark weirdness of it all. And everyone was contributing to this little talk, even if all it amounted to was a group of kindergarteners plotting to spy on the adults in the next room, if indeed these carny folk were like the Emendators in age as well as ability.
Then Bart spoke. James's nodding and affirmative grunts were replaced with an eyebrow arch that began to tilt his head backwards, regarding the guy.
"Umm, hey there, Mr. Bart, sir... If'n I might make a observation? Now, we ain't knowin' how these folks know so damn much, and if I'm even a little right 'bout them having access to that 'Voodoo Surveillance' like I'm thinkin' they might, then plannin' out loud on hidin' folks sounds like the plan what gets us dead. Well, dead-er, anyways. Ain't in that kinda hurry today." James shrugged in Bart's direction, assuming a look on his face that was probably apologetic. They were talking, it was a good thing. This kind of back and forth was necessary.
Aware that the situation might have been made a hair uncomfortable, James did his best impression of an innocent bystander and leaned against the countertop once again. A mechanical
clack sounded next to him, causing him to stand up straight and whip his head around - it was the toaster. A commonplace kitchen appliance just made him flinch.
"...damn toast..." he mumbled, embarrassed at being startled in the middle of a tense conversation by his own breakfast. Feeling quite foolish, he crammed a whole piece of raisin toast into his mouth, just in time to hear Andromeda make a statement that, to his ears, made a lot more sense than what he was spouting earlier.
With a mouth still full of lightly browned goodness, James could not speak with anything resembling manners. Instead, he opted for another, albeit lesser breach of conversational etiquette, snapping his fingers to get Andromeda's attention followed by a vigorous, affirming nod and shake of his finger toward the woman. As soon as he fought the raisin toast down his throat, he commented,
"Yuh huh, yeah. Girl's right. Exactly what she said. We got too many unknown unknowns here, an' they got way too many unknown knowns on us. First one bein' how they know in the first 'bout that guy Peter. I don't think they, you know, evil or nothin', but this some creepy shit I ain't comfortable with." But what to do? Indeed, that was the question. The mere presence of these people was enough to bring about paranoia. If that was the goal, James might surmise that it was beginning to work.
Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"
Location: Ville au Camp (Main House, His Quarters: Room 203 -> Kitchen House)
Skills: N/A
One step. Then another. Then yet another. Yes, his brain was pounding inside of his skull, but it was beginning to relent. Each movement that the powerful Emendator made, each stride that he took toward the Paradoxes under his care, emboldened him and seemed to allow him to beat back the previously incapacitating pain that still tried to consume him. Having experienced a myriad of odd and wondrous things over the course of millennia, and over many different timelines containing things both hellish and miraculous, Gilbert wondered in that moment if what he was feeling
now was akin to clawing your way back from the dead. The Paradoxes he had known throughout the eons had described their rebirth a little differently, each one, but usually it didn't involve wanting to claw their eyes out to get some relief. Again, luckily, it was subsiding.
Still, when he finally appeared in the doorway to the Kitchen House, he looked like crap. As much like crap as Gilbert could legitimately get, anyway. Let's face it, if he were run over by a garbage truck twice and came back as a drooling zombie, the man could still find a respectable last-minute date to a bull nutting.
Despite looking haggard, Gil spoke with clear, solid syllables.
"I have caught much of your conversation. Those are all very good ideas." He stepped fully into the Kitchen House and looked at everyone gathered.
"At least, it is good that everyone has their own ideas about this. It is even better that you are sharing them. And better still that you have decided to wait for me to confirm before doing something rash. It shows me that you have learned from us, and from each other, over the past year or so. I am proud of you." He ambled over to the icebox and pulled out a plate of shaved ham. With it was a white, sliced cheese and a bottle of milk.
"Sorry, the bread did not do it for me earlier." Foregoing bread, Gilbert rolled up a slice of one of each into a charcuterie cigar and bit it in half.
"But first, James - I do not care if they can hear us. We are the ones trying to be hospitable. They are the ones here because they dropped Evelina's name, yet refuse to answer questions until nightfall. If they wish to wait until then, I have no problem with it. The complaint I have involves making unreciprocated inquiries and attempting to locate the body of one of my Paradoxes for their own agenda." Admittedly, that last part was rather news to him, gleaned from the tail end of the conversation just then.
"Especially without coming to me first, nor explaining their reasons. It is very rude. So no, James. I do not care if they can hear us. There is an entitled lack of respect that must be addressed." Gil finished off his snack and rolled together another one, much bigger this time. While eating, he continued,
"More bad news. Giosue, The Watch? He left me a note. Handwritten note, telling me that he was going to be gone for the meantime. The way he phrased it made me believe that he will be gone for some time. His first piece of business involves going to visit Golgotha and Miss Babylon, meaning that - Andromeda - our trip is cancelled for now. So for the indeterminate future, I am the only Emendator on the grounds. This means some things will change. Understand that it is for your overall benefit." Another bit of meat and cheese down, Gilbert cracked open the bottle of milk and poured himself a glass.
"Oh, help yourself if you haven't eaten already. Just be quick." He pointed to the foodstuffs he had just taken out. Nothing fancy, but he didn't have the time for a huge cooking session.
"Now, some good news, such as it is. I have looked into the history of this carnival. Much of it is darkened to me. What that means I could not say. But most of these people are just people, who have come to accept what the others can do and stand with them. I can see their histories in the carnival plainly. The ones who are fuzzy or shrouded to me are the ones I believe have abilities comparable to yours. Understand that I might be wrong, this is mostly educated guesswork." Finishing off his glass, he rinsed it in the sink and stated flatly,
"You should speak with some of these people. They might be as confused as we all are. I will let the entity pulling the strings know my feelings about Peter, if she does not already know. The rest of you, mingle. Talk. Do not threaten and keep your end of conversations in the present. Pair off or keep within sight of one another. Extend hospitality and show assertive courtesy. We will get solid answers by nightfall, if nothing else. If you have questions, ask them now. Otherwise, we begin." 
