[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e34/ScorpiusZ/picspam/1.png[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Retribution, Bridge [hr][/center]

	The chase wasn't quite as flashy as Harper would have hoped. He had seen what their pilot was capable of, maneuvering a damaged ship through tight terrain with Reavers heaping mortal stress upon the situation. The Lieutenant was no slouch on the sticks himself; took to piloting ships as readily as he did tech or engineering. That is to say, well above average. That being said, the fleeting possibility of matching skill against a fellow rocket jockey was removed, right at the moment that the Firefly vessel began to shudder and list. It had to be set down. A twinge of disappointment found the Lieutenant, though it opened up possibilities: Depending upon how the next hour or two went, he would have an opportunity to congratulate the Independent pilot on an excellent piece of aerial gymnastics. 

	It was a very fanciful notion, that. He knew that in all likelihood, this would end with violence. You don't trade stories with someone in a group responsible for killing all of your friends right in front of you. If they happened to have a nasty surprise in store for the [i]I.A.V. Retribution[/i] and managed to turn what appeared to be overwhelmingly slanted odds against them, Harper doubted that he would be in much of chatty mood, either. No, he was going to do as ordered and prepare to land. 

	Taking an idling strafe around the Vengeance, Harper switched to grav propulsion only. He flipped sensors from passive to active, trying to glean as much information from the downed vessel as he could, and kept a steady eye on visuals. True to order, he began looking for a decent landing site as near to the vessel as he safely could and engaged gears for descent to a non-docked site. All he needed now was an official command and an opportunity. In the meantime, Liam opened a comm channel to the Vengeance and hailed the vessel. 

	[color=008080]"[i]Firefly Class vessel; Vengeance[/i], this is the [i]I.A.V. Retribution[/i], please respond."[/color] 

	Nothing. 

	[color=008080]"[i]Firefly Class vessel; Vengeance[/i], this is the [i]I.A.V. Retribution[/i]. We have cannons trained on your boat. Please respond."[/color]

	Still nothing. 

	[color=008080]"Firefly - Vengeance, please respond immediately or we will be forced to escalate."[/color] 

	Either they could not hear the hail, or they could and simply didn't care. Harper reasoned that it was possible damage to the ship could have caused a communications blackout, and wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, but that wasn't his decision.  

	[color=008080]"Captain, we have no response to repeated attempts to hail. We [i]are[/i] prepped for landing, but if I may, sir? The Barber (?) was correct. Both shuttles are missing from the craft. If we land, we could lose a strategic position. I suggest getting a full weapons lock before we touch down. Their comms might be damaged. Weapon lock would trigger their sensors instead, if they're still operational, sir."[/color] 

	He made absolutely sure to follow up with a respectful, [color=008080]"Ready to land at your command, sir... Wait, shuttle coming up, aft. Orders, sir?"[/color] 

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=f9ad81]Foy Coiffeur[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://snippetstudios.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/a-million-ways-to-die-in-the-west-640x350.png [/img][hr][b][color=f9ad81]Location:[/color][/b] Retribution, Bridge [hr][/center]

	Ah, what a potentially entertaining day it was. It seemed that fate conspired to deny Foy his chance at an armed Meet & Greet, letting such matters be resolved as a contest between machines and machine users rather that the up close and personal kind of work for which the Farradayan Gentleman was known. Be it interpersonal niceties or trading gunfire, Mr. Coiffeur preferred to look a person in the face. Well unless he was sniping. But that came with the territory. Point was, he was a man on the ground. 

	[color=f9ad81]"Well, talks of the Haberdashery shall have to be postponed in the interim, my good sir."[/color] observed Foy, grateful yet again that he decided to prep for an extended session of munitioned negotiation. He transferred his attentions from his childhood friend over to his former working partner (from back in his days with the Agency), mentioning, [color=f9ad81]"Miss Lobo, I do [i]so[/i] enjoy the pitch of the music that is queuing presently."[/color] Then inquired simply, [color=f9ad81]"When was the last time you waltzed?"[/color] 

	Foy flashed a debonair smile and applied a bit of wax from a small metal jar to the tips of his fastidiously groomed moustache.