[Major West, all things considers, sounds remarkably calm and in charge.]

What you are witnessing, those of you who've found your way into port, is Infection. Don't come into contact with any Infected persons. Cover your mouth, nose and-- if possible-- eyes. The virus is highly contagious and spreads through bodily fluids. Should you or anybody in your group become exposed to the Infection, you have less than a minute to put them down.

And I suggest that you do put them down.

They are not your loved ones. Your friends, your family, your... wardens or inmates. They are Infected. The smallest act of mercy may cost you your life. Don't be foolish.

[A pause.]

Billy. Adam. Tell me you're still alive.

[Late at night, most people are in bed, but not the Major. He's been running on insomnia since Venice! If anybody were to check up on what the good Major's been writing, all they'd find is a bunch of scribbles. Of course, there are some words underneath them, for those who are in the mood to squint really hard and decipher them]

( Rambling crazy behind the cut! This is the most coherent of whatever he wrote in his journal )

Edit:

Right. So, poker game. Let's start one. Better than a band, anyway.

[OOC: Basically, to bide the time while his coherency's going all mushy from lack of sleep, the Major's just going to keep writing a bunch of crap similar to the above, then cross it out and start a new line. The man seriously needs a hobby.]