[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]

	The rush of planetary air caressing his face seemed like a luxury, until the relative heat of the local climate took hold. Optimistic sarcasm prompted comment, naturally. [color=f9ad81]"I say, when someone writes the ballad of this little endeavor, they mayhap would note that the [i]extremely[/i] well outfitted gentleman from Farraday was seen to perspire. I do hope future music aficionados do not take it as a sign of momentary weakness."[/color] 

	On the surface, Foy unslung his Callahan and checked its scope, doing a quick read for distance and sweeping the exterior of the vessel(s) ahead of them. From this distance, pistols would be of little use. A good shot with a rifle, even a shorter barreled one like the one in Foy's manicured hands, might be the deciding factor in a conflict until they closed the gap. Unless, of course, they had the capacity to fire ship-to-ship armament. The thought caused that Gentleman Barber to glance over his shoulder, back at the Retribution. [color=f9ad81]"I have, at this moment, a question and a pressing suggestion, fellows. I shall start with the suggestion, as it might be the more immediate of the two: It appears that our esteemed Pilot colleague has pointed us directly at the damaged ship we hope to intercept on foot, I must assume to keep weapons vigorously fixed upon it. To that end, I suggest we amble a few paces to the side of a direct line, perhaps?"

	"And as to question: One of us has a clear line of communication with the ship, yes? I should hate to be out of touch for too long."[/color]