Utterly Mad

Jove held the bottle. He looked at it's confusing ingredients list with a quizzical look, then looked to his crotch with concern, and then back up to the doctor with fear. "I believe you're mistaken," Jove laughed rather nervously as he held the bottle away from his abdomen. "I'm just here for directions, not for a pickup. So please, I don't need this." He held the bottle out with his as-elegant-as-they-can-be-metal-fists.

The wolf mutant rouses from him slumber, sprawled on his side on the floor of the RV, his armor in a rough pile next to him, wearing only a simple dark green shirt and brown cargo pants underneath.  Cracking an eye open, he snorts, clearing his nostrils and catching a whiff of the food being served outside along with Ivan's unwashed filth not too far away. 

Rolling his 400-something pounds of muscle and bone to all fours, he stretches and loosens his aching muscles with a yawn, vaguely cat-like.  Seb had woken up a few hours prior to take a drink from his flask before returning to sleep.  A habit he'd developed over the years.  Scooping the treasured container from it's resting place nearby, he sits up, cradling it close and running his claws across it's tarnished surface for a few moments before taking another swig, shuddering at the bitter taste, and getting to his feet, donning his armor and heading outside to grab something to eat, preparing for the trials of the day ahead. 

He returns from the mess tent with several plates of some kind of meat and eggs and a platter of battered metal cups filled with water balanced in his claws which he lays out on the RV's kitchen counter, the Bear holstered against his torso, and eats his own portion while scrawling a rough note with a scrap of paper and some charcoal for the others to read once they woke. 

'Heading out to take care of something in town.  You lot eat and start loading the equipment.  I should be back before you're done.  And get Ivan cleaned up.  Please. 

-Seb

Satisfied, he secures the note beneath his empty plate and leaves, walking into town and taking in the sights, sounds, and smells as it comes to life for the day.  Local merchants open their storefronts, and residents come out to tend their gardens or head out scavenging for things to trade.  Some greet him cautiously as he passes by, a bit intimidated by him but recognizing his service to the community, but others refuse to make eye contact, and he could smell their distrust, a subtle twist distinct from those who were more friendly.  Whether that was because of his association with the Deliverance company or because he was a mutant, he wasn't quite sure. 

Seb was moving to one place in particular, a hovel with a crudely painted sign on aluminum siding out front reading 'Sky's High Smokes', the very top of a greenhouse visible behind it.  The local medicine man, and Jared's brother.  The smell of rich earth and fresh plants reaches his nostrils as he gently pushes the door inward, a salvaged bell ringing signifying his entry.  Inside, the desk looked unattended.  Hm.  He was probably out back doing his rounds. 

"Skyler?" Seb calls out.  "Here for a refill on my prescription."  He places an empty satchel on the counter and waits, straining his senses for approaching movement out back, but didn't dare intrude, not wanting to hear another lecture on the particulars of cannabis cultivation and how his musk interfered with proper air transfer.  Or something. 

Drake had actually been awake for awhile now. He was just too lazy to get up, but now the shuffling and clanking from his fellow Deliverance Company and the smell of delicious food has woken him up. He gets up and leaves the RV, not needing to put on his armor (Only needing to change out his gas mask filter), as he always wears it, all the time, because of unhealthy paranoia.

Zaweri smiles as he attaches the last screw of his gun in place.
"She's good as new now..."

Drake takes his food onto the plate I assume he has, and goes back to the RV with his food, and further contemplates the implications of the bird-mutant eggs, right as he guiltlessly takes a bite into one. Damn, they taste good. (You, as the slave narrator must narrate his contemplation for me. Since I'm too lazy to do that myself.)

[[El Bumpo Madre]]

(look who actually posted! Time to roll into this like a boss)

And like the mysterious ball of goo that he was, Gooious sees Irving and walks up to him since he had a faint memory of him. He hadn't done much since he got really drunk and there was probably cocaine involved. He then bubbles to Irving "You look familiar... You're Irving right?"