<strong>Havel</strong><br/><br/>Putting up with Ruth's examination with a patience that was mighty lengthy all things considered, Havel does everything she tells him, keeping quiet except to answer questions and holding still. Maybe he wasn't given the best rearing ever, but his daddy taught him to listen when the Doc is talkin'.<br/><br/>His first reaction when the Doc mentions Ambrosea is 'No Fucking Way'. Havel could handle freaky sun cultists, 'cause they died when you shot them like anyone and anything else. Even getting blinded was pretty okay, all things considered, since that's the kind of thing you could expect when you tangled with dickbags who went poking around in the Maelstrom for giggles. Sun cultists blind you, makes sense. Ambrosea... A couple of the Company Men who hear the name also have less than joyous reactions, from the sound of spitting and muttering that arises from that quarter. Somebody else, sounds like Brandy, gives a low, earthy chuckle.<br/><br/>"We've run into that one before. Had a bit of a problem with her gang tryin' to recruit from the Company." Havel waves a hand in the general direction of the Sun Cult's fallen, to indicate how his people responded to that kind of enemy action. "Knocked a few heads, but we didn't have to kill any of 'em. Don't know how happy she'd be to see me askin' for help... Probably pretty fuckin' happy, now I think of it."<br/><br/>From behind Havel, the sound of a lighter being sparked, followed by fire blooming to life and the smell of burning gas, hair, and meat. Kettle and Gnarly give a grunt as they toss the last body off to the side of the road. "We're done here. Everybody saddle up! Whiskey, I'm ridin' bitch with you. Brandy, you've got the Doc." Both of them have the kind of big comfortable bikes made for carrying passengers or some cargo, far better than Morgan's light scouting model. "Kettle, Gnarly, go back to the laager and relieve Loper and Scribe. Nobody into the camp, period."<br/><br/>Everybody gets into gear, swinging onto bikes and starting them up with a series of belching roars. Havel clumsily climbs aboard behind Whiskey, eliciting a dirty joke along the lines of 'snuggle up close, boy,' to which the Captain responds with a rough fist in the ribs. "I can still kick yer ass, dickhead..."