Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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Ash mulled over the words that Mizrahi was stumbling through. He was a bilingual man himself, though it came with its own massive stumbling blocks that hadn't quite gone away. From what he could get out of the man's uncertain verbiage, Ash figured that he had some of the same difficulties that he had, not just in foreign language but in questions of morality on a case by case basis. He ran the sentence that the larger Middle Easterner was trying to say through his head, "Anger quick when protect," searching for the meaning through context of their very short conversation so far. The conversation being that they both tried to be good men, tried, but his anger was quick when ... protecting someone? Ash thought back to the time when, on the road, he swung out of his truck to come to Tatiana's aid. The fact that he was shot nonetheless and couldn't do much in the firefight notwithstanding, he was geared to end people's lives for someone he cared about. Or years ago, when he threatened to sever a man's spinal column with a machete and let him drown in collecting storm waters, with absolute intent to follow through - the man had been part of a group that attacked his people. Or the razor-thin margin by which he did not kill a man he considered his best friend, because he had murdered another who was (by technicality) under his protection as part of his community; it could have gone either way. And those were just a few examples. There was undeniably a darkness in Ash, one that recognized that it was far easier and effective to ensure the safety of others by the direct elimination of the issue in front of them, before it could become a threat. But what kind of a man would that make him, if that was the go-to course of action? And how many lives had he actually taken, with bullet, blade, or motor vehicle, to ensure the survival of his people?

All of those thoughts put a grim set to Ash's face. He nodded slowly, through a momentary faraway look, one a soldier might have who had seen the worst of humanity for too long, and responded "I think I know exactly what you mean." His words were measured and clear, impactful, demonstrating the appearance of true understanding of the nuance of Mizrahi's broken English. "We all had to do things to keep ourselves and our people alive. Sometimes that choice is hard."

The next question, be it the simple utterance of one word, did rather take Ash by surprise. Arabic? Did he speak... ? It finally clicked fully what he meant. "Ah," he responded. "No. English," he continued, then raised his hand a little, holding out his thumb and forefinger some distance apart. "Spanish," he said in explanation of the gesture. He did speak a little Russian, but felt it was not significant enough to give mention.

Attention was diverted as the door to Mechanics opened and Mizrahi engaged in abbreviated but more expeditious conversation with a third party, who he came to find out was Tesla, after he stepped into view. Ash could only assume that they were talking about Hunter, though that was a pretty easy guess given the hints dropped. Ash returned the man's greeting with a quick nod and his own, "Hey," though he pitched it with a little more formality, if such a thing were possible. The exchange continued, and Ash kept out of it, only putting in his two cents when directly addressed, "Will do that, thanks." He was being polite. Ash wasn't quite at the level of being comfortable with friendly banter just yet. He'd get there. Just not today. Today, Ash had a bathroom to finish cleaning, which he got back to presently. Do a good job, maybe next time he gets a better one.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) (Basement -> Lobby) Skills: N/A

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Were Thalia a more cynical person, she might have believed that this was part of a great, universal conspiracy to keep her from figuring out these series of riddles. The first time that she asks someone for help (which was actually a feat for her, all things considered), said person gets in a horrible workplace accident that makes him lose consciousness. No to say that Thalia wasn't cynical. It just wasn't her defining characteristic. Yes, before she could even make some sarcastic quip, such as a well timed, "Ha, ha. Very funny, asshole, to Alexander's tunnel question, he was dancing the world's worst Lambada without so much as a steel drum to help him keep beat before the smashing grand finale. Thalia could have facepalmed. These days, that was dangerous for her on account of the metal hand, and she had no desire to put a second unconscious body on the floor.

But all of these thoughts came and went in the space of a second, and mostly stuck around as background noise after during the events of the moment. In the fore or her thoughts, Thalia remembered that she did have some training in First Aid. Not that this was a thing that she was going to directly utilize at the moment, but she knew enough not to mess around with something like this herself. Alexander was an older fellow, there were no Zeds around or hostile Breathers that would necessitate an immediate move, and they were in a place with medical facilities which included trained personnel. Logic and tactic dictated that she play this by the book, much as that phrase was not her favorite.

Two paces saw Thalia snatching up the prosthetic leg. Two more and she was down to her knees, sliding the rest of the way on the floor to Alexander's side. She set the leg down next to him and gave him a look over. No pools of blood or obvious signs of limb removal past the metal one, so she stuck around to make sure less obvious signs weren't present. She didn't know how long it took until the older man regained consciousness and mumbled the possibly very true words that he was getting too old for this shit, but that meant he was in good enough shape to be aware of his situation and status, more or less. That piece of relief handled, Thalia wondered for a fraction of a second if something similar might happen to her fake limb when she had to use it in a fight. That was unsettling. But back to it, Alex was breathing. "Gahd damnit Mugs, don't move if you don't gotta. Your leg's right heah, I'm going to go get someone." Thalia didn't know if he was aware that his prosthetic tried to escape, so that might have come across as a little weird. Well, damage done.

Thalia rose to her feet and made for the exit. It wasn't the breakneck pace of someone running for their life, nor was it a leisurely stroll. Call it a moderate jog. Either way, the woman hit the stairs and took them two at a time, making her way back up to the lobby area. When she emerged into the front lobby, she suddenly felt amazingly out of place. The receptionist(?) was sitting at her appointed place, and Hunter, of all people, was there as well. If she didn't know better, this looked like every standard receiving area in any corporate HQ building she'd ever been in, which smacked of contrast to everything she'd experienced over the past few years. It was a little bewildering, to be frank. Thalia eyed Hunter for a moment, wondering why the hell he was here, but said nothing to him. Instead, she moved to Sandra, thunked her heavy metal fist into the desk and leaned in, speaking so that the clarity of her words was only discernible between the two of them. "Mugsy's had a fall in the basement. Lost consciousness, is awake now. Don't know if he's hurt. Might want to send for a Dahc." So far, straightening up a basement had become one hell of a bloodsport. Had Thalia known there was such adrenaline-fueled danger in cleaning and repurposing rooms like this, maybe she would have taken up maidservice instead of boxing in her youth.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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The erstwhile Army Captain had gritted his teeth and prepared to re-enter the foul-smelling purgatory that was the women's bathroom at Mechanics. Giving thought briefly to Shakespeare, both the long dead English writer and the histrionic Latino in the Mess Hall earlier, Ash quietly quoted Henry V to himself, "Once more unto the breach, dear friends." It was as much actual resignation to his coming duties as it was sarcasm. He took a deep breath, the last lungful of fresher air he figured he'd have for a while. He could do this. But Thana was right; perhaps the casserole wasn't the best idea ever. After Mizrahi confirmed the assignment, Ash began to make his way to the bathroom. It wasn't going to clean itself.

When the tall Arabic fellow bid him to stop, Ash indeed stopped. There was a note of confusion on his face, and just a little concern. Generally when someone told him "change plans", or any variation of it, something inconvenient was underway. In this case, however, it wasn't particularly inconvenient for him. The men's bathroom was in need of service, but it was not the horror show the other one was. Then who was it inconvenient for, if not him? Taking a quick look around, he noticed Volts and Tesla through the windows. Mizrahi was still doing his thing, same as before he changed Ash's task. Rivets was missing, and so was...

Hunter. Ash just realized that the younger man hadn't gotten back in time. And the moment that he realized this, the guy walked in, reporting to Mizrahi. The response was not positive. Be it a short conversation between the two of them, Ash was certain that this was none of his affair, and moreover, whether the kid screwed up or not, standing there to bear witness was unnecessary and could be taken as a sign of epicaricacy. Or, as the Germans put it, schadenfreude. So he stuck to task and entered the men's bathroom, located the the cleaning supplies, and got to work. At least he now knew for whom the change of plans would be inconvenient.

He was sanitizing upright surfaces; sinks, counters, etc., when he heard Mizrahi and Volts enter the Mechanic area again. Speaking Arabic, which was interesting. Not the language itself, nor what they were saying, as Ash couldn't understand a word of it anyway. The interesting part was that the taller Mizrahi was actually a talkative person, just in his native language. He had suspected something along those lines earlier. Good to know he was actually personable.

After Volts and Hunter left, to whatever fate was in store for the young man, Ash simply continued to clean the bathroom. The rest of this wasn't his business until someone asked him to take part or the situation changed in a morally questionable way. So he cleaned. The throat clear that announced Mizrahi's presence was unexpected, though he figured that there was something additional that he had to take care of now, or some change had occurred now that he was working in here by himself. But what he heard from the taller man gave him genuine surprise. Dawri? No, Sparrow. But he didn't really know Thana as Sparrow that well, so it took him a second or two for the pieces to fall into place. Also, it took a second for the application of the word "yer". Oh yeah, he was learning English from Thana. In any case, she had praised him to Mizrahi, who was telling him about it. Apparently, to her eyes, he was a good man. e greatly wished to live up to her expectations. "I try hard to be a good man," he responded. Sometimes it was tough. Decisions that resulted in the best chance for survival for those he looked after sometimes made for grey actions, but he did genuinely do what he could to uphold the oaths he took as a soldier and officer, and remember the ethics in which he was raised. "She says the same thing about you."

Not exactly the Algonquin Round Table of literary and conversational greatness, but it was a productive start.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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The last pearl of wisdom addressed to Thalia from the General was hopeful, at least. Naturally, she might expect her brother (literally from another mother) to have her back and put in a good word, as she would to for him. But Joaquin's own history would speak volumes about his capabilities and temperament. Thalia, well... she was barely out of college for two years, maybe, before Zeds started eating everyone. Her career was just kicking off and she could only go by the reputation she developed in her younger years. They weren't exactly good, wholesome stories, most of the time. So yeah, it was good that he vouched for her. She nodded her understanding to The General, and even expressed a quiet, "Yah, good day," back to him as he left.

It was also good that she didn't voice half of the thoughts going on in her head about being where she was. The constant need to reassure herself that this was the right decision to make was starting to grate on her nerves. Besides, what else was she going to do? Thalia couldn't abandon Thana, even though they really didn't need each other directly for survival anymore. And she wasn't going to sneak out in the middle of the night and leave Alexander, even now that he was finding his legs in the community (so to speak). And Joaquin. So Thalia resolved herself to try to put any ideas to the contrary out of her mind as best she could. Even if she wanted to leave, it was suicide without preparation and a place to go, as well as the knowledge on how to get there. Any such thoughts would be fleeting. Not to mention that there were a couple of people here that she swore could tell what she was thinking, anyway.

Thalia was lucky that she didn't find herself mumbling those thoughts out loud. She had a proclivity that way. Shaking it off yet again, the one-armed woman set back to her job. Sorting. "Paper, plastic sandwich baggies, batteries, stuffed llama, single harpsichord key - white, ball gag, illustrated Kama Sutra pop-up book..." she said, rattling off things she was putting away or cleaning up and obviously, at least to her, just saying random crap to get her work buddy's attention or make him smile. It was are for her to joke like this, though for the moment it was just the two of them in the room. Still, it sounded like her mind was elsewhere. Thalia was holding an introspective monologue back and needed to say something to keep her inner thoughts inner.

Luckily, or unluckily as the case might be, that damned riddle came back to her as she worked. Something about repetitive action with little intellectual power necessary to accomplish it, plus a lack of need to constantly scan her surroundings led her mind to wander. And invariably, it wandered back to that riddle. Mull it over as much as she might, Thalia just couldn't make heads nor tails of it. At all. Period. If the answer were written across the wall in big, bold letters, she still wouldn't have a clue. "Ey Mugsy," she started, digging in her pocket for the paper bearing the riddle, "Take a look at this for me?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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Admittedly, as lunches went, this was one of the more memorable ones. Were Ash the diary keeping type, he would have definitely given this one its own page. Maybe even with diagrams in the margin and little stick figure images demonstrating the positions of the key players in the very memorable lunch, each accounting for the change of personnel as work shifts picked back up. Right at that moment, he was looking back to the withdrawing form of Thalia who, despite the difference in accent and skin tone, was beginning to remind him very much of her cousin. Or her uncle. It was a little eerie, actually. Having now met a few members of their family, Ash was both impressed and disturbed. They were all cut from very similar cloth.

At least, that's the impression that he had until Joaquin started to speak again. Nope, here was one who, to outside appearances, had very little in common with his people's overall demeanor. But to hell with it. He seemed happy and wasn't hurting anybody. Far be it for Ash to pass judgement. He was in too good of a mood, himself. Certainly not because of the job he had to get back to (though it was within his philosophy that every job was important and aided in the survival of those within the community), but in the overall way that things worked out for himself and a number of people close to him. With that in mind, he did have a job to get back to.

The military man in him remembered that he could make short work of the food in front of him, like back in basic training, and even in a way that gave the appearance of manners. And while he might have liked to stick around for a bit longer and socialize, Ash's attentions were mostly for Thana at that point, enamored with the idea of getting back a loved one who he thought he had lost. Plus, he wanted to keep a positive impression with the people in charge of the settlement. So after Thana and the comparatively light-skinned Gonzalez left, along with Alexander and the others with the previous lunch shift, Ash made note of it and finished off his Tuna Casserole with haste. To a lesser extent, it seemed a shame to rush such a dish. Maybe he was biased by the vastly lesser quality of food he had to settle for while on the road for all of that time, but Ash figured that were he incarcerated for an extended period of time, memories of said casserole would might be one of the things which sustained him on particularly lonely nights. (TUNA CASSEROLE!)

But next time, he was getting the salad.

In any case, after his plate was clear, Ash rose and addressed the table. "If you all will excuse me," he said, nodding. It was a touch more formal than the occasion probably deserved. His mind was halfway elsewhere and the gaps were filled in with his officer-y default settings. "See you for supper." He turned and moved to bus his tray, then exited the Mess Hall. Were his mind fully in the here and now, he might have overheard a discussion about Thana being asked to make a run outside the walls, but that moment was lost to him for the present. In any case, Ash wanted to get back to Mechanics as quickly as possible. He didn't want the looming trip to the gravesites to affect his productivity any more than it had to. Hence the hurried meal and early return to work.

Stepping into the garage, Ash looked to Mizrahi. The guy seemed to be a man of few words. Whether this was because he was a quiet man generally, or his grasp on English was competent but marginal, not unlike Ash's grasp of Spanish, was up for debate. "Unless you need me on something different, I'll get back to that bathroom," he intoned. Work was work. No sense in putting it off.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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Cleaning and organizing, separating recyclables, etc. Then again, just about everything was recyclable these days. Either repurposed, used to build something else, or turned into compost. Still, it wasn't a thing that she was used to doing, except for the occasional bit of scavenging for useful odds and ends. Her job today looked like an extension of exactly that. It was still tedious, and to be frank, prevented her from doing the things she was really wanting to do. It was different in Fairburn, when she was hooked up with the reenactors and survivalists. The tasks she did there helped her learn and develop skills that were essential to her survival in the new world. This? Well, someone had to do it. Maybe she does this well and gets a better job. Or the training she desperately needed. Like life outside the walls, you had to put in to get anything out. This more community based application of it was something she would have to get used to if she wanted to stay here with Thana and Joaquin. Fine, and Alexander too, as well as the rest of this collection of misfits and assholes.

But speaking of Alexander, Thalia's thoughts were interrupted by his voice. Yeah, she should wait up for him. "Yah, okay," she mumbled. Cripples had to stick together, right? It was a cynical thought, but probably very true. She didn't say much at first, just listening to him begin converation, and didn't really say much after, either. Point of fact, when he mentioned an "odd fella", Thalia was pretty convinced that he meant her brother. So when he clarified that he meant Nigel, Thalia was a little surprised. "Roman guy, yah," she responded. "No idea. Trying to get sparring time with him." The man knew how to fight with a weapon and shield, and now that her own abilities in that regard were severely abbreviated by her injury, she needed to train.

The mild surprise that she felt during the conversation was revisited with interest when she returned to the basement in Administration. The old man in charge of CMB was there. The final authority figure, and while he had been nothing but a respectable, soft spoken man, Thalia's first instinct was to tense and give a quick glance around her surroundings, doing what she might have to ascertain threats and determine points of exit. Survival mode, slipped back on like an old leather coat; comfortable and protective. Side note, Thalia missed the hell out of her leather jacket. Another thing useful that was lost, kind of like her right hand. She had no idea what the General was talking about at first, but putting two and the square root of four together, things clicked into place a little. Communications. People who know about such things. Thalia and Alexander.

Thalia went to college to be an Electronics Engineer for her uncle's security company, but that wound up being the set of skills that she had used the least since she had acquired them, and barely at all after the Outbreak. Truth was, she was fair at best with them. Competent for everyday work, but hardly an innovator. The biggest claim to fame she had was an amazing stroke of luck rebuilding a satellite phone that would up leading her to the people from Newnan. As for Alex, to the best of her knowledge, he was trained by the Army as a comm guy. This looked a lot more like his cup of tea than hers. And moreover, did that mean that she'd be staying behind as support, in a basement she wasn't fond of being in to begin with? A trickle of annoyance was balance by resignation, the latter born of the painful truth that she wouldn't be back at her best for a while. She swallowed this truth whole and nodded, trying to keep the expression off of her face. "Just let me know where I can help," she said in an even voice.

After the General left, Thalia looked to Alexander. This probably suited him perfectly, and she was actually happy for the man. It couldn't have been easy, losing a leg. And it might be a blessing to feel useful again, if he had been feeling those kind of doubts. "Ahright Mugsy," she began, returning to the piles to sort, "Let's get back at it." As she started to pick through the items in front of her, Thalia gave a lingering thought to lunch. Sushi was something she could definitely get used to, living behind walls.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: Perception

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Ash wasn't sure why he hadn't seen it at first, but Thana had indeed saved him a seat. Sadly aware of his present, less polished appearance, it still did not prevent him from accepting the place next to her. And it seemed that she could take one look at his damp, smudged form and know exactly how he had been spending his day. If it was offensive, he would understand and take a seat elsewhere. This was part of the reason why he gave a little smile when she nudged his shoulder. "Hey," he responded, leaning into her shoulder a little as well. A tiny piece of contentment was reached in that second, and regardless of the fact that there were many other people around them. He was even a little amused at the way that she not only knew what job he had pulled, but discussed it with him in brief as if they were already in the middle of an unspoken conversation about it, complete with the knowing look of a lady with experience in the matter. "It can always get worse," he declared, otherwise nodding his agreement with Thana's statement. "One of those constants of life. Besides, still not the worst job I've had before." Flashes of his training days, and early assignments as a young Lieutenant doing seemingly unending civil engineering work, some of which involved primitive septic systems, haunted his thoughts. His eyes looked skeptically to the tuna casserole on his plate. Yes, he was still going to eat it. And yes, he was going to need a second or two first.

His attention expanded somewhat as he heard his name mentioned. Not the abbreviated version of his name, Ash, that most people used when referring to him in casual conversation, but his full first name, Ashton. Fork in hand, his eyes darted in the direction of the man he thought might be addressing him. Nigel. The Romanesque individual, to use the term loosely as he was not personally representative of architecture, persay. But it seemed like he was talking about him, not to him. Benign conversation that merely used him as a reference to the military, which made sense. He was a career soldier, once upon a time. But did one ever really stop? Ash gave a nod to Nigel, noting that his name was invoked but not wishing to interrupt his conversation with Alexander. It looked like the older man's respiratory distress was doing a good enough job of that for him. Ash tensed for a second, waiting to see if the moderate amount of emergency medical training he received would need to be applied, though it seemed to work itself out. This allowed him to settle back into enjoying his meal with Thana, for however long they had.

To that end, a table-wide address caught his attention next, this one from his work partner for the week, Hunter. It was an apology for the previous night at the party, apparently. Ash wasn't around to fully see what had transpire. His eyes were elsewhere, naturally. He even looked to Thana during the course of the apology, then back to Hunter. He wanted to say something reassuring to the guy, but at the same time, didn't. The younger man seemed like a mess in progress, some of which was his fault and some of which wasn't. The apocalypse did things to everyone. "We all do stupid things, time to time," he started with lowered voice. Lord knew he had a fair share of poor decisions under his belt, spanning a lifetime. "I can fill a day talking about mine. It's what you do after. Ask me about it sometime." They still had half a day's work ahead of them and they were stuck with each other for the week, at least. If he wanted storytime, he could have it.

Ash couldn't help but get a little defensive about her calling out his food choice. Oh, he understood the reasons, in hindsight. And admittedly he didn't think that far ahead, putting two and two together. Hot tuna casserole and the far less than desirable work he was doing. "Hey, comfort food," was the only explanation that he might provide, though the conciliatory expression demonstrated a clear understanding of her intent. It was too late now, anyway. If it was his destiny to see his meal again, in a much less attractive form, then it would be. Feeling very Zen-like, Ash continued with his meal.

The continuation of lunch was a more hurried affair than breakfast, it looked like. That made sense. Breakfast was getting the day going, then he assumed that supper might be wrapping the day up, but the midday meal (and he considered himself very lucky that there was enough food to go around that they had three decent meals a day) was in the middle of work. More than ever, people needed to do their jobs to keep the world, or their piece of it, running well enough to allow for those three squares. And their safety. Not to mention their health and sanitation needs. So it didn't surprise him that Thana had somewhere to be not too long after he showed up. He was grateful for the time they had, and he knew that they would have more later. He got a tiny smile at the kiss on his cheek prior to Thana leaving. This was something that he could get used to. He reached his arm up to give her a little squeeze around her waist, but hesitated for a couple of reasons. First, he recognized that pulling her in close while he was in a state of aromatic disrepair might not be the nest idea. Additionally, his position would have him placing an arm near to where one of her injuries lay. Accidentally putting pressure there would be, in a word, bad. "Dinner, then. It's a date." They'd have better room for conversation then, too. It was nice having those few moments with her in the middle of the day nonetheless. Ash risked a look behind him, watching her bus her dishes and leave. The limp notwithstanding, he did appreciate the view.

Looking back forward, he was intrigued to see Thalia sliding underneath the table, apparently in an effort to escape her brother while he was in rapt conversation with Nigel. They were in some sort of discussion when he initially approached the table, but he didn't ask into it. Whatever went on with that family was probably not something he needed to get in the middle of anyway. An eyebrow raised on Ash's face though, wondering exactly what the hell she was trying to accomplish even as her eyes locked with his, slowly disappearing from sight.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Administration (A) Skills: Stealth, Intelligence

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Mention of that bowling trophy seemed to dominate the table's conversation for a while. More than she was really comfortable with, as being the center of attention was generally not one of her life goals. Thalia had to admit that it was unusual enough of an occurrence to warrant a few words, so she bore the weight of the discourse and kept filling her mouth with sushi. Damn, but that was a good idea. Soy or not, wasabi or not, this was a good idea. The thought that this place might make her weak crept into her thoughts; an internal piece of worry that outwardly paused her, a bite half-chewed still waiting to be swallowed. No, it couldn't. She had been through far too much and survived things that would have killed others outright, to be defeated by air conditioning and regular meals. But the thought did concern her a little.

What got her mind back into the present was Alexander's unexpected use of the name, "Mr. Caesar". Though pronounced with an American accent, that was how some people in (what used to be) the corporate headquarters for MSS, the company she used to work for, referred to her uncle. It was an interesting custom of the southeastern U.S., referring to people in positions of respect by a title and then their first name, depending on circumstance. And her uncle Caesar was the boss. But Thalia knew that the old man was dead. Amid a list of others in La Familia Gonzalez, she searched for him for a long while, and was too late. Maybe if she found him sooner, he might have made it. Her cousin Alicia, too. They were the survivors. How Thalia made it this log and they didn't was fully beyond her realm of imagining.

And yet, the damn bowling trophy was still on the lips of her friends and acquaintances, or bowling in general. She glanced over to Thana, now finding out that the trophy might belong to the guy who told them to sort out that basement room in the first place. Her addition to the conversation based upon this revelation was a simple, "Hnn,", mostly just to acknowledge without sharing her feelings on whomever owned the damn thing in the first place. The gash on her face seemed to throb once, as if it knew it was being talked about. Though bowling lane in the church? That was dedication, and use of resources. It said a lot. In any case, Thalia silently agreed with Alexander about the nature of older trophies, giving him a small gesture with her metal hand though not pausing her meal to do so. In fact, it wasn't until Nigel spoke his question that she made any meaningful contribution to the discussion at all, and around a bite of raw fish, at that. "It didn't find its way onto a military camp. The military camp found its way around it." Thalia recalled that Thana had mentioned Mexico Beach used to be a vacation/retirement spot, specifically Gunny's. Still chewing, she continued, "This was someone's home, once." Tactically, it had to have perfect initial conditions, supported by skilled individuals and people who could recognize it and pull together fast enough. She shrugged, and kept eating. "Whatever. To hell with that trophy."

The entrance of Navy's boyfriend led to the extreme likelihood that any heart-to-heart with her would have to be put off for again. Fine. Thalia wasn't the most patient person in the world but she could be in certain instances, important ones, mostly involving waiting for a tactical advantage or in the pursuit of her continued survival. This was, admittedly, neither. But the theory was sound. And naturally, the way that her brother was acting was another nail in the coffin of social discourse with Thana, even to the point of seeing her friend set her head down on the table. The Middle English vomit from her dear half-sibling aside, Thalia nonetheless sat, staring at Joaquin and hanging on his words, trying to make heads or tails of it. Finally, there was a piece of paper handed over to her. She accepted it with a measured, cautious, "Thank you," though it was a little cold in its application. She took in a breath and let it out. This was the reason that she stayed in CMB? It was a guilty thought. Of course he was. He was family. A very different kind of family, but beneath the flashy attire and flowery Anglophile speech, he was no one to mess with. Thalia read the paper before jamming it in a pocket, finally understanding what it said but completely without any grasp as to what it could possibly mean. Her expression showed as much.

I always point in the right direction. My instructions are written in black and white. Disobey me and pay the consequences. I will never say more than two words at a time. When you know what I am, find me and you will be one step closer.

Army Guy Ash and Other Army Guy Hunter found their way over. The two of them had their moment, which gave Thalia the extreme impression of high school sweetheart lunchroom antics. She declined to comment. Far be it for her to rain on anyone's parade. Her friend was happy. In fact, his entrance along with the back and forth between Joaquin and Nigel meant that attention was off of her for the moment. Hunter's apology did likewise. When Thana mentioned that she needed to get back on the clock, she knew that it was her time as well. As soon as the Thana stood up and left, Thalia began to slide down in her seat, making her way underneath the table with the hope that no one would notice while lots of other stuff was going on around them. Sadly, she could tell that it was not exactly successful. But she kept doing what she was doing; to cease at this point would draw more eyes to her. When her head was completely under the table, she reached her hand up and snatched the last piece of sushi off of her plate and crammed it in her mouth.

With as much grace as she could muster, Thalia emerged from under the table on the other side, where Thana had just been. She stared directly at Ash as she sat there next to him, reminding him with a whisper, "You still owe me that talk." before recovering her plate and rising to put it away. It was not the stealthy exit she had hoped for, and she very likely looked like half a dumbass in the process. But what was done was done.

Over the course of the next few minutes, Thalia found herself back out of the AC and in the open heat of Florida. A more polite individual might have waited for her work partner. She was interested in putting some distance between herself and the Mess Hall, hopefully to get her task for the day accomplished and see what came next. Administration, sorting... This was not the life she might have chosen. Objectively, she knew that she would have to deal with a lot of crap work before she'd be allowed to train or take on a job more suited to her abilities. Life wasn't exactly bad though. Sushi counted for a lot. And that chowder, first day? Stellar. And a big fire the night before. Family, too. Push through the bullshit first, prove she wasn't just here to use the community, and she'd have her time.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Ash took a moment to look down at himself when Guy made mention of the sour nature of his aura. He nodded and shrugged, giving a look that clearly broadcast that he understood. If Rivets's bathroom was local legend, then it stood to reason that they'd stick the new guy with it. And considering Ash's background, they probably wanted to see if he had any humility to him. Or it was just the luck of the draw. "Not going to lie, it's not my first choice for detail. It's a job that needs doing, though." It was a sort of philosophy of his, and one of the reasons that he maintained specific duties even while in charge of the Newnan settlement. "I wish we could just hose everything down and squeegee the place out, though. Take a fraction of the time." It looked like a lightbulb went off. Oh, this was something to ask about. Ever the Engineer, he supposed. The novelty of this meeting washed back over him, and he reiterated, "Damn it's good to see you, Guy."

After Guy introduced himself to Hunter. Ash took that occasion to move closer to the hose. If the Army taught him one thing, it was how to clean up quickly. He looped the hose over the top of the patio umbrella and turned it back on, using it like a shower he could lean into rather than stand under to more effectively wash the day off of himself. So his pants might get a little damp in the process. He could live with that. While he was cleaning up, Ash caught another slice of conversation from Guy, this time about who came in with him, and his face darkened a little. There were so many who he couldn't save that day, when Newnan fell.

"Not many. Jack and Tati, little Jamie, Amelia, and Riley." The part about the conditions under which they had found Tati might come out later, when and if she felt like talking about it. He sighed a little, debating whether to bring up the next part but knowing that it would come out anyway, "Doc Froggy came in just after we did, on his own. Something happened to him out there, Guy. He got turned away. Hell, Beatrice ...left of her own accord. She was with another group that met up with us the day we got bused in." He nodded his head, still cleaning himself up, and continued, "They found another Gonzalez, Guy. Old man Caesar's neice, um, Alicia's cousin. Small world. Well hell, there's a ton to catch up on. We're going to have to find some time to talk." The discussion was good for him, but they did have a timetable and rules did have to be followed here. "Hey, one thing though - I don't know exactly how thing work here yet, so... calling me 'Boss' might not be appropriate, you know, now." Still, it was good to hear that Medic came in with him. And yes, As was very happy to see Thana. If only Guy knew.

Listening to Guy encourage him along to lunch sounded like the best offer he'd had all day. "Yeah, hey, yeah... just a sec on that and I'm with you." His moment was next spent finishing his shirt and squeezing it out thoroughly. A little time in the sun and breeze, about the time it would take to get to the Mess Hall, might help a tiny bit to dry it further. Might. It vaguely occurred to Ash that Guy reference the fish that "we" just brought in. So he was a fisherman now? He gave a quiet laugh, and said aloud, "Way to adapt, Guy." Nodding again, Ash turned the water off and replaced the hose.

Suddenly remembering something, Ash looked back around to Hunter. "I apologize," he started. He didn't particularly like the man and Lord knew he didn't leave the best impression on Ash, but he did just do the younger man a disservice. "I offered you a hand, then got caught in a conversation. Guy's a man I knew back Before, and was one of my best people for a long while After. I thought he might be dead. Anyway, I'm sorry. Get you next time."

His shirt halfway dry and his body less offensive, Ash got to jogging in the direction of Mess to catch up to the others. He kept the shirt in one hand, so as to better get airflow around it until he neared the building in question. Guy and Mizrahi had entered before him, so he wasted no time in pulling his damp shirt back over his head, shimmying into it, squaring his posture, and walking into the Mess Hall.

While he was in line, Ash looked around the room trying to find anyone familiar, anyone he might know, or if he was being truthful with himself he was looking specifically for Thana. Maybe Guy and Mizrahi would want to sit at her table and maybe they wouldn't, but Ash's priority was with her. A small grin found him when he spotted her. She seemed to already have a crowd around. Including the reenactor, the angry Gonzalez girl, and the older veteran. And someone he wasn't sure he'd met yet, at least officially. Looked like he was going to socialize a bit, so long as he could do it alongside Thana. It seemed like the two that he followed into this place were sitting elsewhere, so he bid them a quick farewell and the hopes of catching up with Guy later on.

For him today, it was the Tuna Casserole. He might have considered the sushi, but after cleaning that bathroom he really wanted some comfort food. Ash took his tray and walked steadily over to Thana's table, stopping only to politely ask, "Does anyone mind if I join you?" If he was lucky, he might even get a seat next to or across from the lady who had his affection.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Everybody was being so polite. Asking questions of one another and exchanging pleasantries, offering variations of "How do you do?" and "Lovely weather we're having!" or something to that effect for all that Thalia could tell. She was awash in people seemingly going about their lives, and conversations that weren't too dissimilar to ones she had during her company lunch hour back before dead people ate the living. But she had sushi, actual, honest to God sushi, coupled with company that she didn't mind. Those two things seemed miraculous. Then Thana had to go and mention that they didn't have the appropriate flatware to eat sushi, and to treat it like finger food. Thalia get out a little snorting laugh while she was trying to eat. It was funny, really; she'd been doing it like that anyway. Chopsticks, hadn't crossed her mind in the least. Nor had forks. Did she even get a napkin? Eh, it was probably around somewhere.

Of course, part of being around people meant socializing, sort of. The initial response from Thana was something that she literally asked for, be it a little generic an answer. She never got to know Thana the lady who had a day job; Thalia knew about Thana the post-apocalyptic survivor who led their group into battle the first day they met and kept them all together for a year beyond. Once upon a time, Thalia had a day job. Office, too. Rank within a corporate entity - not a very high one, but she had direct reports. She could remember how. But this air conditioning? Still not used to it. Okay, Thana asked how she was settling in into the new job. She looked to the woman and raised an eyebrow, the one hanging over the cut on her cheek, and answered, "Settling just peachy, Navy." There was a tone to her voice that suggested restraint.

Nigel picked up salutations next, it seemed, kicking thing off by thanking her for something. Or beginning to, though she had no earthly concept as to what he might thank her about. His train of thought seemed to have been waylaid by the fresh wound on Thalia's cheek, anyway. It seemed to have been waylaid yet again by Alexander's presence, so she took the opportunity to shove another piece of sushi into her face. Spicy tuna this time. Ah, the yums. When his game of conversational hacky sack came to an end, Thalia answered around a mouthful of rice and fish with a direct, "Gaht my ass kicked by a bowling trophy." She declined to comment further. There was fish to eat. Bigger conversation could wait for a little bit.

Somehow, Thalia felt a change in the air around her. But was it that, or was it some sort of pregnant pause in the general topic of the table that was making her very conscious of herself? Her eyes slid to Alexander, trying to see if he was getting "back on the clock", so to speak, then over to Thana for the same reason. She couldn't read the Navy girl's face, but something seemed off suddenly. Hard to pin down. Even a mid-sentence stop on Thana's part. It was a subtle change that came over Thalia, one that showed in small details only. A sense of tension building and a vague, sensory look that one got when they were concentrating on all of their senses at once. If Thalia had her knife with her, she might have reached for it.

Then she heard the voice. Mr. Iambic Pentameter himself was making an appearance. It was about time anyway, she she really wanted to see him. There was a thing to puzzle out. But she couldn't just leap headlong into this, oh no. Her dear brother had a thing for drama, even if she didn't. This might take some strategy to get to the meat of the subject. Thalia waited until the appropriately nicknamed Shakespeare was finished speaking and was seated in front of her, smiling at at her. She swallowed her bite, dabbed the corner of her mouth with her one remaining thumb, and took a deep breath. "Good news about your heart, Joaquin." She spoke to him in quiet, clear, even tones, her hazel eyes locked with his. Thalia tilted her head slightly to one side, and she continued coldly, "Tell me a story. You know the one I want to hear, hermano. What happens next?" She began pinging the fingers of her metal arm closed, like she was cracking artificial knuckles. A few pieces of subtle drama to keep things interesting for the her brother yet not so much as to muddy the waters with whatever the hell was going on with him.

Another approach followed by another request to join the table. Thalia shifted her eyes over just enough to see that it was Thana's Army guy. Well, there went casual conversation with her for this lunch break. She had her own thing going now anyway, to which she immediately returned, prompting Shakespeare with a monosyllabic, "Nnn?"

Current Mood in One Gif

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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Ash took the time he had in the relative quiet to fully understand and appreciate the fuller, myriad definitions - literal, colloquial, and metaphorical - of the term "shit work". He appreciated the conversational hiatus between himself and Hunter. They didn't have a lot to say to each other as it was, and unnecessary talk meant that he would have to have his mouth open more than he absolutely had to in this place. To Ash's thinking, this was was better all around.

As sweltering and disgusting as it might be in that bathroom, there was at least an end in sight. Accomplish the job, be done with it. Move on to the next. Probably a men's bathroom that was just as awful. Still, it was worth it. Do a good job, and consistently, maybe get moved to a better one. It's how it was in the Army, and this was a settlement run by former military. It stood to reason. Or to put it differently, Ash had his fingers crossed. It didn't help his morale that the ambient funk that permeated the air seemed to taint the very sweat coming from his pores, making every bit trickling down his skin seem like fat, septic drops.

The pair was relieved from their position by the simple utterances and hand motions of Mizrahi. Ash was grateful, though he was a little curious about the reason why as it wasn't time for their lunch break yet. Nonetheless, he followed where he was led. When he saw the table with bottles of water, patio umbrella, and (best of all) the waterhose, he looked to the taller Mizrahi and gave him a frank, direct, "Thank you." Ash procured a bottle of water immediately and took a long, slow sip for himself, then set it down and pulled his shirt over his head and peeled it off of himself. The marks of his journey so far stood out, the freshest of these being a scar left on his torso from a firefight. Ash had taken a bullet, but they got Tatiana and her baby boy back. Fair enough deal as any, these days. He pat his face with a more or less clean part of the shirt, and looked to the hose. Then to Hunter with a raised eyebrow. Then back to the hose.

"If you want to go first, I'll spray your ass down," he offered Hunter. Ash even took a step toward the hose when he heard something strangely familiar echo between the buildings of Camp Mexico Beach. Someone was yelling with his accent. A little deeper of Virginia mountain inflection than what Ash presented unless liquor was involved, but there it was regardless. "Impossible," he said, turning around in the direction of the voice. Apparently, it was not impossible. "...GUY!" he finally yelled, taking a few stunned steps in his direction with his arms stretched out to his sides. As Guy got closer, Ash exclaimed, "Oh, you shifty son of a bitch! It's damn good to see ya, man!" The color of his own accent deepened to match that of the man approaching - quite possibly the only two left in the world with that selfsame native inflection.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Stupid mistakes. Like the one that cost her an arm, or part of one due to a botched stabbing attempt at a Zed and a shield that somehow refused to function when it was crucial. As she pressed the heel of her hand to the fresh laceration, Thalia's eyes went back to the offending piece of plastic and metal that did her this new injury, be it relatively minor. "Bowling trophy. That's embarrassing as shit." Far be it for her to ruin a shirt, now that manufactured clothing was a finite commodity anymore, Thalia stuck to blotting the blood away from her face with her hand, and then wiping it onto a suitable scrap of something or another that was destined for the trash, anyway. After a couple of minutes it was good enough for her to continue working without having to worry about streaks of crimson running down the side of her face.

Nobody really cared about dirt. Dirt didn't hurt anybody. And sweat was just the price of doing a hard job. But blood? Blood would draw attention, and she wasn't an amazingly huge fan of unnecessary attention. The mark on her face would attract that quite enough without adding more to it, as would the heavy, metal arm. If she was lucky, it would leave a scar that she might tell people about later: "Yah, it was rough. Friggin' Zeds crawling around, making life wicked pissah. Lost my hand to one of 'em. Got shot a few times. Dropped a couple pints of O-Positive in knife fights. But worse? Took me a bowling trophy to the face. Ah, it was hell..."

The bleeding did stop, and Thalia did get back to work, trying to ignore the new source of stinging on her cheek. Things did go rather smoothly past that. Sorting, tidying, bagging; while it didn't have the glamour of fire-hardening pointy sticks or foraging for edible bark, it was easy enough work with far less of a risk factor than to which she was accustomed. Getting involved in her work made for a faster transition of hours, which was indicated to Thalia by the reappearance of their taskmaster, Gunny. She wordlessly waved away the idea of going to Medical for something as minor as this and simply kept to her job as efficiently as she could with only one functional hand.

The mention of lunch was a personal pick-me-up, though. As was the fact that they only had to wait a little longer for it. Thalia wasn't particularly peckish right then, but she was promised sushi, and that was all she needed to want to get down there ASAP. "So what'ah you thinking, Mugsy? Tuna casserole, or sushi?" They hadn't spoken much over the course of their work so far. While that was just fine and frigging dandy with Thalia, she didn't want Alexander to feel like she was giving him a cold shoulder. "Yah, 'cause I'm getting a plateful of raw, blood-red, saltwatah pescado atún." She didn't seem to be aware of the sudden dip between Boston and regional Spanish, or if she was, she didn't care too much.

It didn't seem like much time at all until, just as Gunny had mentioned, the next bell rang. Thalia stuck around with Alexander in case he wasn't up to moving in any quick hurry (if in fact he was taking lunch at that time and didn't have something else better to do), but in time appropriate to events Thalia found herself back at Mess. Her perceptive eyes latched onto the target of her desires as her body continued ever closer toward it as the line got a little shorter and shorter, until she was face to face with the gatekeeper of her destiny. "Sushi. Um, please." Yes, people used the word "please" here, even if she did say the whole thing with a bit of a rasp. When she got the plate, Thalia couldn't help but smile. Of course, it did raise a question for her, which she spit out without much tact, "Jeez, did they squeeze the roe themselves?" She gave a little giggle, imagining whose job it might be to wring out egg-bearing fish like a dishtowel, complete with squishy, spurting sounds and the occasional metallic ping of roe hitting a steel bowl with force. "I mean, thank you." Manners. Yes indeedy, manners. One day, Thalia might remember that she was taught them as a child.

But that day was not today. She found Thana, for the first time since arriving here without Ash, and beelined over to her. Without asking or waiting for an invite, Thalia took a seat near to her and crammed a piece of tuna and rice into her mouth. Chewing with as much obvious happy as she might muster, Thalia opened conversation around her bite, "Hey, girl! Long time no see." She nodded, at first, for sarcastic emphasis considering her understandable preoccupation with Army Guy lately. But then she stopped, possessed by what might be building into a genuine foodgasm. "Oh my Gahd that's some good stuff." She gripped the side of the table, closed her eyes, and added, "Don't touch me for a sec. I'm having a moment." After swallowing her bite, Thalia breathed heavily, shuddered a little, and smiled at Thana. "Hooo, I needed that. Ahkay, where were we? Yeah - how you been, girl?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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Cleaning supplies... This was a time that Ash genuinely wished that this place had a pressurized waterhose and some industrial cleaner. Bleach. Degreaser. Things with activated enzymes and that may or may not be flammable. His mind darted back to his time stationed in Central and South America and his work with limited resources. The battles to keep things clean and/or sterile were near constant. He remembered one of the best cleaners he could improvise primitively involved alcohol and citrus rind, two things he might be able to put together here, though he was almost certain that these people had already thought of that. Maybe ask first, as he had an opportunity, before merely assuming they didn't already have something like that set up. Write it down for later on, as it had zero bearing on what was going on that day.

Curiosity did get the better of him as he looked to the clipboard. It was a regularly cleaned room, supposedly. Ash could only assume that it was, looking at a series of names and dates backing up that theory, though the hard and fast, on the ground evidence inferred a different story altogether. This place was disgusting. Maybe if it was outdoors, where the breeze could catch the funk of concentrated human leavings and move it away, or at least give it room to diffuse, it wouldn't be so bad. But here he was, amid the tile and porcelain of a fallen civilization, on cleanup. It would have been quite metaphorical if it wasn't beginning to singe his nostril hairs short. If this room was actually cleaned out a couple of days ago, he wanted to know the name of the slackass who signed off that this was handled, and if that wasn't the issue, who the hell did this to the bathroom afterwards? He could solve one of those immediately. The last name on the list: Checkbook. "Hmm," came the only comment he chose to make for the revelation.

In any case, this train of thought was likewise not productive. "Fix the problem, not the blame," he reminded himself. If it had to be addressed later, it would be addressed later. That wasn't his job. Cleaning it up was. So on he continued, despite the smell of it seeming to concentrate and build. Once or twice, he even swore it grew a malevolent intelligence and sought him out personally. Though he clung to his personal work ethic, even dipping into the oath he swore as an officer to an army that only truly existed as a creed anymore, it did not stop his physiological reaction to the unrelenting filth. More than once, his stomach tried to assert itself, threatening to empty its contents just in case that might fix the problem. Suffice it to say, Ash was not happy. He blinked away the moisture building in his eyes and stoically steeled himself to the task at hand, forsaking unnecessary conversation in the hopes of getting the job over with quickly and thoroughly. That, and he really didn't feel like opening his mouth in this room any more than he had to, lest the dankness taint him further.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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"Thanks," Thalia said to Gunny's back as he left the room. Maybe he heard it. As far as she knew, an expression of gratitude wouldn't have mattered to the man even if he did catch it. Gunny reminded her of her uncle, a little. It was the quiet way that he communicated only that which was necessary for the moment, and otherwise stared at people in an unnerving way. Hell, Thalia grew up with that, from the age of ten onward. No problems there. But she still felt the need to thank the man. Best foot forward, or something like that.

So Joaquin took lunch at noon. Checking her slip of paper from earlier, Thalia saw that the their mealtimes overlapped by a half hour. She'd get a chance to confront the slippery, iambic pentameter speaking jackass in a few hours, and then she'd get her answers. Barring anything else, it would give her a few minutes with her half-sibling. It would be nice to catch up a little more. Again, that was hours away. Thalia had bitch work to do, so she figured that she'd better got to it. Sorting crap. Yay. It could be worse - a whole lot worse - and she was in there with someone she was more or less comfortable around. There were harder things one might do to get food and shelter. She'd done a lot of them, too. Junk sorting. How quaint. It was like scavenging, except she was keeping everything, not just what was useful to her, personally. She could do this. Ignoring the fact that she was in a basement with limited exits (behind walls or not it ran contrary to her general survival strategy), Thalia started sorting.

Alexander's question struck her as odd. In the many months they were on the outside, hadn't they had this conversation? It seemed weird that they wouldn't have. Than again, that was all about what you could do to help each other, not how they came across the ability to do so. Survival on the day-to-day. Why not? Conversation it was. "Hands on. That's funny theah, Mugs," she said sardonically, glancing to her metal limb. "I wanted to work for my uncle's company as more than a corp-sec agent. Went to school for it in Boston. Electronics major, Criminal Justice minor. Suffolk University," she noted at the end. It was a decent school once upon a time; while it didn't have the clout and recognition of MIT, it was a place that moneyed people tried to get into, and spoke a little of her background. "Go Rams," she finished dryly.

It was at about this time that Thalia heard a cracking sound from just above her. The box she was pulling down wasn't the issue, she had gotten pretty good at hauling close with her left and propping it up with her artificial right. Damn near a workable system, even. But the act of slipping a box toward her that was just barely in her reach put too much pressure on the shelving, causing the whole damn thing to come collapsing down in an avalanche of junk. Instinct took over, and while Thalia wasn't able to fully get out of the way she could shield herself from the brunt of the falling objects - but not all of them. Something brass colored and shiny slipped into her vision for a quarter second, maybe, before she felt a sharp pain strike her cheek. Thalia let out a wordless grunt of pain and impatience, "Nnnaah!" and reflexively slapped her hand to her face. It felt warm and wet. Holy shit, she was actually bleeding. It wasn't bad, but it did surprise the hell out of her. "Really?" she inquired of no one in particular. "Fucking really?" A heavy sigh later, "Gimmie a minute, heah. Hate fucking bowling..." She actually didn't. It just seemed like the thing to say right then.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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The quick and fleeting introduction to Rivets was responded to with a notable drawl of Ash's native Virginia Mountain accent as a respectful, "Ma'am," was presented. Admittedly, she was not the kind of person who Ash would have thought of might have the moniker of "Rivets", but of all the ideas that he had to get used to over the course of the last few years, this looked like an easier mount to summit than most. For the moment, Ash assumed a neutral speak when spoken to mentality. There were ropes; he had to learn them. And it looked for the time being that he would be learning them with another newcomer for the week. It was safe to say that they hadn't spoken much during their time in Quarantine. It seemed that Hunter, the man in question, sought to alleviate that very situation in his own forward manner, referring to him as a Private.

Following Hunter's comment and its accompanying grin, Ash regarded the younger man with raised eyebrow. It looked like he was appraising Hunter, and while he said nothing to him, Ash gave a slow nod, the expression on his face reading that he was another step closer to coming to an unvoiced conclusion. Utilizing a different train of logic but maintaining his silence, Ash was taken a little off guard by being referred to as "Sparrow's", unless he totally missed something along the way. A moment's consideration had him thinking that it certainly wasn't a bad thing being known as Sparrow's, possibly the fastest indicator as to his identity in this place among the locals. Lord knows people must have given her crap about leaving the safety of Camp Mexico Beach in search of a guy (that would be him) who was in all likelihood missing or dead already. It was miraculous that they were reunited. Storybook, really. And when the movie version of it came out, Ash wanted the guy from Aliens to play him.

Otherwise, Ash paid no mind to the running commentary from the locals as they spoke among themselves and to Hunter. The guy was military once, and though many aspects of this were lost in the changes of the new world, this settlement was run in its administration by the guidelines therefrom. He knew how this worked just as well as Ash did. So while he paid the commentary no mind, he did make note of the semi-formal manner with which they were being dealt. Not everyone was former military; everyone still seemed to fall in line.

Morning announcements came as an interesting change of pace for Ash. The man who ran this place had every appearance of a kindly older fellow, open to conversation with gentle voice and deliberate phrasing. But Ash knew who he was from his training days. The General was not the kind of guy to be messed with. The grandfatherly way in which he took to the morning announcements was a settling thing, much like how he spoke to Ash during his entrance interview. He listened carefully to the announcements, taking note of the projected temperature and promise of fresh tuna. This place was well put together, no doubt.

After PA clicked off, Ash found his attention directed toward Rivets, who took the moment to address he and Hunter both with a brief outline of what was expected of them. So they were being handed off to Mizrahi. For his own reasons, Ash wanted to get to know the man a little. This might be fortuitous. He gave a respectful "Yes, ma'am," to the broader edicts of his duties, and a similar, "Thank you, ma'am," when informed that he would be allowed time to clean up before visiting the gravesites.

Mizrahi was a man of few words, but those few words (along with the unveiling of the Ladies' Washroom) had an impact. Ash did appreciate the look of sympathy from the man. At least he knew that this wasn't something the guy was taking enjoyment from. Lord knew that Ash wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. Still, this was their first job of the day. He nodded to Mizrahi, this time more of an acquiescent gesture. He was the man in charge of them right now. This was how they paid their dues. And thinking back on the past many months, he had done far worse for food and safety. Ash could clean up a bathroom.

And that's just what Ash intended to do. But first, providence held in store for him a bit of storytime, courtesy of his cleaning buddy for the week, Hunter. He heard a brief description of how one might see to the cleaning of a room, and in such a fashion that he honestly began to question if Hunter believed that Ash had never cleaned a room before in his life. As the proposed battle plan continued unabated, even going so far as to describe single-digit numbers of persons utilizing the bathroom in question, Ash began to think back to his time as a cadet at the Virginia Military Academy. Four years of it, dealing with every sort of menial task presented by the military instructors and for of those years, the upperclassmen, too. Not the least of which was hammering through dormitory bathrooms utilized by hundreds on a regular basis, and a couple thousand sporadically besides. Sarcastically, he thought (but did not speak aloud), "No, in fact I would have no idea how to handle a cleaning detail and bring a room to inspection quality without Hunter's rapt and avid tutelage. God bless this man and his heretofore unrivaled wisdom of the custodial ages." His expression might have said all of that, anyway. But what piqued Ash's interest most about it was that part of Hunter's rant sounded just a hair too much like a threat for his tastes. This might be a more interesting week than Ash had given it credit for.

"You're trying too hard," was the one thing that he did say out loud. Determined in pursuit of doing a proper job, Ash took to the cleaning supplies and did as he was trained to do in these circumstances: He started at the top and worked his way down - beginning with the light fixtures and ceiling around them.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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"We're still pushing air past our teeth, Mugsy," commented Thalia in response to Alexander's prediction about the day. "The day's already better for us than most." Perspective was a bitch sometimes. Coincidentally, so was Thalia. Sometimes. The one-winged Angel was still a bit reserved about this whole setup, though this didn't seem too bad so far. And though she wasn't going to admit it to save her life at that moment, it was a comfort that she was going to be working with Alexander and not someone she didn't know or just met recently. She wasn't being thrown to the wolves, socially speaking. Perhaps that was what the settlement leaders had in mind all along, considering Thalia's tendency to withdraw and observe during unfamiliar situations. They probably had their own observations about her, psychologically speaking, and Thana likely mentioned a few things as well. It was a smart and, dare she say it, compassionate move on their part. Or it was all just a huge coincidence and she was overthinking it. Either way, Thalia approved - so much as she approved of anything.

Thalia did cock an eyebrow up and look from Sandra to Alexander. Some snow cougar was working fast, making an advance on the poor guy. Well, whatever floated his proverbial boat. She tried not to smirk or pass judgement, but it was hard. Sadly, she had not the time to come up with a subtle yet jarring quip as the morning announcements began. Most of it she didn't give a rat's hindparts about, but the mention of sushi brought her into full and open attention. It had been years since she had actual sushi, not just fish, raw or otherwise, she had speared in a river for her supper. Boston. More than five years ago. Thalia had given up hope, but here it was thrust upon her again like opportunity knocking once again. "Sashimi, norimaki, ...hand rolls..." Oh, if they somehow had wasabi she was going to have an episode of some kind.

Quickly, Thalia straightened up and remembered that she was here to work, not to pillage for fish. Which now might become her new phrase to describe trolling for easy female companionship, if she felt like hometeaming it that day. "Pillage for Fish". Yeah. Okay, back on the clock. Thalia followed Gunny and Alexander, paying careful attention to their surroundings and listening to what was said. Cleaning and organizing. Fine, bring it on. She needed to exercise her new prosthetic in an array of mundane tasks anyway, this would suffice. Then sushi.

No, graveyard first. That was important. She needed to give her respects to friends and fallen warriors. People she cared about. Far more important.

When a call for questions came up from Gunny and Alexander responded to the negative, Thalia almost felt bad for having one. It had nothing to do with their job, but directness was a quality she possessed whether she liked it or not. "Yeah um, unrelated, but can you tell me where my brother's at today, please? I was supposed to find him for something." She suddenly remembered, quickly adding, "Sir." Otherwise, she was totally ready and almost eager to get to work.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mechanics (K) Skills: N/A

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It wouldn't be the first time that he'd have gone to psychological therapy, such things were required in the Army at certain stages or after traumas had occurred; done to assure the brass that he was still fit to command as well as helping him adjust to realities of stress and combat. Not a big deal. And this wasn't even a requirement for him; it was merely a suggestion. Mild introspection had Ash understanding that it wouldn't hurt anything. It might even help him out a little to unpack some of his experiences and how he felt about them, not to mention what he had been doing to cope. It did open a lot of thought provoking questions, many of which weren't an issue back when he had his last psych exam. Memories, especially recent ones, were abound.

The first thing that came to Ash's recollections, as he headed to his predetermined job site from the hospital, was the fact that he hadn't been desensitized to reveille as of yet. Damn near to a Pavlovian response every time that called him to action. Granted, his earlier thoughts and memories of the morning centered around the woman he had spent the night with, and woken up next to. But honestly, she occupied much of his thoughts anyway. Also swirling around in there was his upcoming job with Mechanics, under someone named "Rivets" that he was reasonably sure he hadn't met yet, the fish and grits they had for breakfast that reminded him of he staple foodstuffs they established in Newnan, and that he needed to get into a more stable exercise routine when his schedule evened out. Every so often, Ash was reminded that he wasn't 23 and invincible anymore. And yes, he was still thinking about Thana. These might not be the sort of things that his interviewing psychologist would want to talk about. But he'd have to find out, Mondays and Thursdays at 1800 hours.

As he neared the building, Ash's thoughts solidified into something more professional. He wasn't technically a soldier anymore, and he sure as hell wasn't the man in charge, either. That didn't mean that he held himself to any less of a standard of punctuality, ethic, or respect. Every job was important. Every job, be it in a small way or a big one, contributed to all of their continued survival. And whatever needed to be done, Ash intended to handle as much of it as possible before 1400 hours, so that his superiors would have no cause for qualms or negative commentary about his absence to pay respects to his people, recovered by the CMB field team.

Checking the paper once more, Ash straightened to his full height and entered Mechanics. The feel of the air in there reminded him very much of the places he learned how to sling a wrench as a kid, or an off-base Army motor pool. It was comforting, in a way. As Ash entered the work area, he saw Mizrahi and two people he didn't recognize. Not wanting to make any assumptions as to who the shop foreman was, he spoke in a clear, concise manner while referencing his leaf of yellow paper, "Ashton Holloway. Reporting to 'Rivets' for assignment."

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Administration (A) Skills: N/A

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Another look at the paper in her hands - check that - hand had her working in the Administration. She was dutifully on her way out to the Admin building, just like her impersonal slip of paper told her to. In some ways, being in Camp Mexico Beach was like being in one of the MSS secure sites, except that she could always flash a corporate ID and waltz right in, if they didn't just let her past because they knew who she was. Living as she had for a while now, Thalia could tell that she had a sense of entitlement about a lot of things back then. Some of it was deserved but much of it was not, or merely by circumstances of her birth. Hindsight let her know that it was all pretty stupid. If nothing else, the apocalypse had given her a greater sense of humility. If nothing else, it taught her about her own actual merit, rather than that of her Familia. Some lessons were harder than others.

Something that caught her attention was the job listing of "Runner" on her way out of the Mess Hall. If that was what she thought it was, then she definitely wanted to sign up. When did they get out of probationary status again? She wanted to talk to Maddoc anyway, about getting into some more serious training. Two birds, one stone. At least she could mention that she was interested. It never hurt to put the idea out there. If she did well in other areas, that might put her in a favorable position later. But to the more immediate, where the ass was her brother? She might or might not have a bone to pick with the guy, and she didn't manage to catch him around their quarters. Coming nearer to Administration, Thalia began to realize that she might be heaping too much on her plate at one time. She literally had a day job now. Here she was trying to take on a ton of activities just to get back to her fighting best and maybe have a little fun now and again.

"Ballet, soldiering with Maddog, day job, jogging with Captain America (pending), sparring with Hadrian, exercise routines, Runner, oh god, that D&D circle, ...group fucking therapy..." she found herself muttering aloud to herself. Yes, she had decided that it would be wise to attend group therapy. Maybe it didn't hit her fully yet, but she lost part of a limb and her effectiveness in just about everything she was good at before had taken a massive hit. Maybe she didn't need to be on medication, but eventually something might compromise her emotionally. Wait, had she forgotten something? Oh yeah, "The Great Fuck Hunt," she said flatly. A random citizen of CMB overheard her and gave her a look, prompting Thalia to stop and return said gaze with a sarcastically questioning gaze, as if asking the guy if he felt like adding something of his own. A disengaging series of facial expressions later, they both agreed to leave each other alone. Thalia entered the building, now curious as to where the other Great Fuck Huntresses in her informal Guild might be working. Perhaps she'd run into one of them later on.

A little surprise took Thalia as she noticed that Alexander had beaten her there, already with Gunny. "Awful spry for a pirate," she said, though not at a level anyone might have picked it up. It was a habit of hers. Sometimes her internal thoughts became external. Walking up to the two of them, she gave a little smile to Alexander and followed it up with a quick, "You and me today, Mugs." The two of them didn't start off as friends, really. The old bastard somehow outlasted her offputting manner long enough to get past that, though. She had to give credit where it was due. Now they had a bit in common, aside from all that killing the first day they met. But Thalia forgot herself for a moment. She focused her attention to Gunny and asked directly, "Where you want me first, Boss?"