Jean Gérôme

As they moved within sight of the exit, Jean Gérôme made his way to the bow. Looking over the men and women that were putting their lives on the line for this insanity left him feeling ill. He dared not show it. Frightened eyes looked back at him yearning for something, anything, to ease their own fears. If he had been a great man— the kind you read about in stories— he’d have thought of something better. “What are y’all doing standing around doe-eyed? There’s work to do and no one else is gonna do it. The gate’s coming up and that’s when the fighting starts. So remember what brung ya, take a drink, and get after it.”