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Above

"Evan hits hard." It was said with a smile as she joined the other two girls on the rooftop. Having caught the end of what Nora had been saying before she'd asked about basement related things.

It was a relief seeing everyone up and about and bandage free again. Specially all the newbies. Weeks out of the pods, and they'd been tossed to the wolves. Er.. Sandworms. Whatever. "How's it going, Nora?"

America was greeted with a hug, as she usually was. Moon wife.

Above

Hanna's big Polish family was full of veterans, and Memorial Day was a special occasion that involved lots of food, lots of lipstick smears on her cheeks, and lots of sitting around breathing bonfire smoke and her aunt's cigarettes. Back in Maryland, the family always feasted on steamed blue crab, various salad varieties, lots of kielbasa/sausage/bratwurst/other phallic meats, and copious helpings of libation. For the Deus Memorial Day, Hanna found herself much more strapped for food items to bring. She hadn't gone on leave yet, but with some bartering, she managed to procure macaroni noodles, mayonnaise, lemon, and -- the piece de resistance -- Old Bay seasoning. In her grandmother's version, there was shrimp, but she didn't have that luxury here.

In the end, it was a halfway decent macaroni salad with an Old Bay kick. Not too terrible, by her standards. She had no Tupperware so the food had been concocted in a pot she had found in the kitchen, cleaned, and covered with tinfoil. Hanna slipped into her most American outfit, which consisted of a red zip hoody, tank top, jean shorts, red bandana stuffed into her backpocket for effect, and Converses.

When she arrived, Hanna passed by the cemetery and opted to go straight up to the roof. There were some people down there already, and she didn't want to interrupt. Plus, in the time that she had been gone, she had managed to avoid the place. Part of her was terrified of walking down rows and recognizing names. Wasn't it better to think of her old friends as being assigned to another post?

She spotted the Twitter-active, Peyton's moon-wife, leader of the Basement Nation, redhead standing beside a couple familiar faces. Though she had never spoken directly to America, Hanna had heard a lot about her in the short time she had been back out of the pod. America was kind of famous, she figured. The Deus Homecoming Queen.

Hanna approached the group, macaroni salad in hand. "Hi," she said, smiling at Peyton and Nora whom she recognized immediately before diverting her gaze back to America. "I'm Hanna. We met, sort of, at the hide and seek thing Melvin did. And Twitter. Anyway, I have come bearing macaroni salad with Old Bay, since no one's grandmother could make it." She tilted the bowl up, and it squished wetly inside.

Above

"Yeah pardner, them there." he said with that same warm smile. "And nah, ah didn't get even a scratch on me. That's what us Deaths do. We get in and get out and no one is any the wiser."

The food itself was rich, carefully and meticulously prepared and taste sensation unto itself. What Lawrence lacked in the practicality of ingredients he made up in gourmet preparation.

below

She gave a pale chuckle. "No break-ins if it's locked, got it. I'd only do it to leave a nice note anyway." He wouldn't get the Leslie treatment. It occurred to her that she might have been in the way of private mourning, though, and Stormy quickly added in a more apologetic tone, "I, um, hope I wasn't interrupting you."

Below

Otto lightly shrugged. "S'okay.." After all, she'd been friends with Nevada too. "I been hoggin' this spot for too long anyway." Otto slowly rose to his feet, dusting off his clothes. "Ill see ya later, Stormy." He murmured, his mood solemn and sad. He'd been getting better, of course. But today was a day he let himself look back.

The teen quietly walked away from the graves, intent on going back to his room.

Above

Al deftly loaded his plate up before shifting closer to Jan offering a single piece, "want one?" He figured once he got a taste the rest on his plate would vanish. The remark about death though had Al recalling something Rep once told him. That as bad a** as scars looked - they were a sign that an injury was sustained, rather than avoided. Death's avoid injury. It would lead one to draw the conclusion that a successful death would have none. This entire time Al was staring at the piece he was offering Jan.

Above

Evan returned early from his day in the real world, less a six pack of beer--which he had finished off somewhere between the graveyard and the portal--and a hat--which he had lost shortly after finishing the beer--but with a 10 pound bag of genuine Idaho potatoes and an early watermelon. They had seemed like good ideas at the time, given the holiday, but it hadn't struck him until after they had been bought that he had nowhere to put them where they wouldn't spoil. The potatoes would keep a while in his closet if they absolutely had to, he figured, but where was he going to keep a watermelon?

Fortunately, the problem solved itself. The enticing scent of burning meat lured Evan all the way from the lighthouse, and it only got stronger as he approached the dorms. He could see tiny people on top of the building, and his decision was made as he hit the training fields. He could use the food if nothing else, having had nothing that day but beer and free samples, and he was on the right side of buzzed to be sociable rather than surly.

(Surly had come after the last beer but before the watermelon. He had entirely new reasons never to show his face in Idaho again, now. A shame, too; they really did grow the best potatoes there.)

Evan was even sober enough to navigate the stairs without tripping or dropping anything, and he considered it a minor victory when he made it to the roof with everything intact. Even tipsy, his first instinct was to analyze the rooftop party for any potential threats. There weren't enough people there to accurately call the gathering a crowd, but they were fairly high up--he figured as long as he stayed away from the edges of the roof, he would be okay.

"Ladies," Evan drawled as he strolled towards the group of girls, smiling broadly through the scruff that hadn't seen a razor in the better part of a week. "I come bearing gifts," he said, holding up the watermelon and potatoes to illustrate. "Where do you want these? And I hope someone brought a knife, 'cause my weapon's not really made for clean cuts."

"Then you're probably already on his Nice List," America nodded in approval, as if that was one of the best places anyone could find themselves. She wasn't the biggest fan of books, but anything that made Konstantin happy was something she'd encourage to the end of time. "If anyone wants a room list, Kon's got a spreadsheet an' he can print a copy out for you, easy as pie."

Speaking of which, she should probably get that piece for Taym but all such thoughts fluttered off as Evan strode in all whiskered-up and bearing potatoes and watermelon. "Well I guess we don't have to worry 'bout running out of salt anytime soon," she drawled back, shamelessly eyeing the blonde up and down as she took the melon off his hands. "Thank you." It was unclear if she was thanking him for the food offerings or for just standing there looking attractive in the sunlight.