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JeddavenF̝O͚̞̳̜̱͗̍̎̌R̠̰̩ͩͨͫ ͙̩̠̣͉̪T̈́̅ͩ̊ͧH̓̀̉E̹͈̺̱̬͑̋̐͗̓̏ͅ ̬͚̙̲ͬͪ͊ͪ̉̽M͉̥̟̖̪͉̃Ả̪͈͍͕͔̺̮̽̈́Ṣ̳̝̰͖̞̠ͩ̑͛T͍̬͒̿͒̂̉̋Ẻ̖̟̖̼̬̄̏R̰
̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏
̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ
̪̱͔̹̱̣̬͌ͨ̏
̭̼͉̙̳ͮF̦̜̗̼̬͒ͯͣ̚Ò̫͇̮͙͇̄ͭ̒̌̆ͭR͓͂̑̐ͭ ͙͙ͣ̐̇̒͆H̥͑ͮ́͐E̞̟̅̀̽̀ͭͧ͑ ͓̂̾W̙̻̍ͧ͗̌̽ͭ͒Hͪ̀͗̓O̟͇̳̣̫ͯͭ͑ͦ́̌̚ ͎̲͙̳͈͍͋ͅY͖̐̋E̐ͬ̌T̖̗̰̓ͬ͂͂ͅ ͬ̂̽͐͆L͉̖̯͇̱̝͖ͪ̀̊̉̎Ì̘̝̩̺̉͑̅ͤͫV̟͉̣̞̻̮̬͛͂ͬ͂̚E͓̻͈ͥ̿͆S̻̹͎̞ͥ̍̑ͬͦ̋ͮ
Walking off from the carnage, Gail stopped by a small bush to wipe his hands of the blood. He turned his head a little to see someone shooting where he had been, poking his head up yet further to see it was the lady that for some reason thought she was the leader here. He would remember this of course. It had been others who had at first refused to do anything, and yet it seemed he was the one that was the recipient of ill-will. Not that this was particularly surprising to the Nightkin. Supermutants always were the recipients of inexplicable hatred, which in turn humans always expressed in the most peculiar of ways. Truly, they were a suffering people to live such short lives that they could not see the folly of their behaviour. Musing on such things he wandered off into the wilderness, forgetting the entirety of his night's adventures by the time he returned to the party in the morning.
Gail returned to the camp just as the sun started to once more arise, picking out pieces of radroach from the end of his rebar club. He didn't exactly know how they ended up there, but he supposed the feeling of fullness he had probably had some accounting to do for it. Briefly he worried about food poisoning having likely eaten this meal uncooked, until he lucid part of his mind reminded the rest of it that such things were no longer the worry of his splendid form.
The mutant soon after spotted himself in a reflection of dew upon leaves, prompting him to start obsessively picking out hairs upon his head that were too long, a trait acquired some decades after the obsessive stealth boy use. That very soon brought him to another activity, as the smell of falling hairs reminded him that he had acquired new smells to worsen his ability to move concealed. As such, he began bringing his fist down to grab handfuls of dust, rub it across himself, and repeat the cycle until he could hardly feel his own sent when bringing his elbow to his nose.
The many humans started waking up just as Gail finished his rituals, and thus he wandered over a little closer to observe them. Most pecuiliar to him was the supermutant in the group. He had an obsession almost as nightkin, and yet he lacked the characteristic blue skin, invisibility. The robot briefly brought him a distant memory of his life as a human when he shifted his eyes to it, and thus the nightkin shook his head to distract himself from the matter.
They packed up, and went on yet another walk. As always he traveled some distance from the group, making sure that there were no more bits of fauna that were hungry and would go after the little humans. Of course, he made sure every five minutes or so to run back to them, and make sure they had not fallen into some sort of infighting that would need a clobbering to resolve. Satisfied, this cycle would continue until at some point he heard Darya call out for him on one of his return trips. He took a few long strides to make sure he was in earshot when he replied to her, revealing himself with the characteristic vwumpsh of a stealth-boy turning off a meter or two behind her. "Yes. Wait here. Do you have a flare?" he requested, continuing with "Something for a signal of sorts if it is unsafe to stay here, and time to flee." Regardless of if he received such a means for a signal or not, he would once more activate his stealth boy and run off towards the town.