[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] Prometheus (Galley)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	The ever perceptive Gentleman Barber was rather taken aback by the spontaneous show of actual, physical affection demonstrated by the Captain. It gave him a considerable eyebrow arch, and likewise a glance down to Jacqueline. He responded to her questioning look with a slow, sober nod, but would speak nothing aloud for the moment, content to allow the events of the galley to transpire without his influence. He was almost relieved when Anisa ordered Jahosafat to take escort her elsewhere. 

        Foy parted way as Jahosafat and Bridgette made their exit. Now was not the time to jostle about for his proper spot in the pecking order; not until he had a better idea as to who he was working with. Best to slide a step out of the way, which as it turned out was a pleasant idea anyway, considering that Anisa's second was also making her way past, along with her little sister. Hell, he might even tip a cap in their general direction, such was the acquiescent grace that was Foy. If only for the hour. 

	As it turned out, he knew that Jahosafat was capable of, which was far more than his doctorly duties let on. Now, if the powerful blonde (and her even more powerful brother, possibly) was what he thought she was, then it would behoove him to give her unimpeded passage until they were better acquainted. Afterward, a casual sizing up would be in order. But to business! 

	Enough prompting and bandying about with coy talk and questions of domestic drudgery. Jacqueline had expressed interest in exactly what he did as part of this crew, and there was a simple way to show without being tempted by the dulcet allure of aggression. Foy was certain that it would take less time than was necessary for Anisa and the Pender sisters to have their little pow-wow in the Captain's quarters, and so began to show Jacqueline to his own room, toward the displayed equipment therein. It would doubtless give a far better representation of his role than any flowery speech he could give. Not that he would waste the opportunity for a flowery speech, naturally. What would be the point of demonstration, otherwise? 

        Unfortunately, his plans were waylaid by the sounds of conflict and gunfire. Ordinarily, that would have been the dapper daddy's morning call to work, but here on board the ship? What was to be their sanctum? No, that would not do at all. The sounds of the violence were toward the fore of the vessel, meaning that he could scoop up a conveniently placed firearm from his quarters on the way. He hesitated only when he heard ...laughter? [color=f9ad81]"That is, ah, perturbedly odd."[/color] he said aloud, stopping in his tracks. 

        It also seemed odd to him that Mei took this opportunity to engage him in discussion. Much as he did love to talk, this seemed highly irregular, considering the circumstances. [color=f9ad81]"Regretfully madame, I find my attention otherwise preoccupied at the moment, and my time accounted for following our briefing likewise in demand. I've not had my shingle suspended professionally aboard this vessel but for an hour or so, yet already I find scheduling demands upon my noble personage. How very noteworthy."[/color]

        As it turned out, they were in for a change of crew as well. Three off, two on. A doctor, pilot, and whatever Fitz was for a berserker and, well, whatever Cyril was. While it didn't make total sense to him, it was not his place to question. Not out loud anyway, and not at that time.

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=ff4500]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ee08c0f4-d9d6-4483-837d-cef5143cc12c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Medical -> Upper Deck above Cargo)
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] Tactics [hr][/center]

        The sounds of screaming and gunshots tore at Bridgette like carnival rides and cotton candy. A look of notable glee leapt upon her face, and as Jahosafat took off for the purposes of "helping", she assumed, the violence infused Aesir native followed suit. 

        Of course, Bridgette's take on "helping" didn't always fall in line with the commonly accepted standard. She unslung her great shield and, foregoing her spear, drew one of her wide bore sawed-off shotguns from her gunslinger's holster. Weapons had already been discharged, and while there was a good amount of open space toward both levels of the Cargo section of the ship, there were also numerous blind spots and choke points, like the stairs she would have to use to close the distance. Shield was a good idea. Spear? Not until she got closer and read the situation. She liked her shotguns fine enough anyway. They had character. 

        Foregoing the Galley stairs, Bridgette instead ducked back into Cargo, locating the stairs there and making a beeline. If this party started to move, she wanted to have a good vantage to get behind it. But as soon as her boots hit the first few steps up, she was greeted by an odd sound: laughter. This didn't make sense. None at all. If anyone was going to he giggling after trading small arms fire, it was going to he [i]her[/i]. Confused and slightly frustrated, Bridgette continued to the upper deck with the caution and determination of a battlefield veteran. She was just in time to hear Anisa announce the sudden decline in crew numbers. 
        
        [color=ff4500]"Aw, fuck's fucking sake, Anisa!"[/color] she exclaimed, holstering her sidearm, [color=ff4500]"How are you going to get a girl all warm for some action and then just [i]stand her up[/i] like that? That's not goddamned fair at all..."[/color] her voice trailed off as her bright, seablue eyes drifted down to what Anisa was holding. [color=ff4500]"Is um, is that a fluffernutter?"[/color]
	
[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.cinemablend.com/filter:scale/cb/6/4/a/b/d/a/64abda9122910e2617318cdc3d43516062ebc1ae5b880e96ddb5beadc78d4655.jpg?mw=600[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Galley)
[b][color=008080]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	It was a lovely parting order, [i]make sure no one kills anyone[/i]. It made sense. There were a jumble of new faces in this crew, technically one of which was his, by a couple of weeks. Well, as it turned out, the people who were getting introduced were doing very little to damage the calm of the vessel. There looked like a little showboating, which was to be expected from folks trying to impress a new group. Or advertise their areas of expertise in a frank and practical manner. The blonde lady was obviously a soldier type, though from what armed force he could not tell. Her brother obviously used to be something of note, but fate or something less savory made him as he was today; simple but powerful, and most certainly loyal beyond reproach to his dear and vulgar sibling. 

	Even Jacqueline and Fitz, the newcomers from the previous evening, had settled into something approaching calm. The occasional bit of snark and sarcasm aside, these people were a damn sight more civil than the people he had spent the vast majority of his last three years with. This was a different sort of chaos than to which he was accustomed. Less directly violent, but with its own sort of unwritten code of honor, it seemed. It was all for the best as Harper's own experience with violence, while moreso than the average wage-earner by far, was nothing compared to some of these people. Gunslingers, mercenaries, Vikings apparently, and whatever the hell Foy was, coupled with specialists necessary to travel and prosper along the Rim. Given a straight opportunity at a shooting match, Harper was even the equal of most of these people at technical skill. With a pistol, anyway. Or a wrench. Not that there was a high probability of being called out for "Spanners at Ten Paces", but it was something. 

	But again, [i]make sure no one kills anyone[/i]. Harper wasn't really prepared to play bouncer in a room full of rogues and brawlers. He most certainly wasn't prepared for the actual source of the disturbance, that being from Anisa herself, and the two remaining original crewmembers. By the time he figured out what was going on, the shot had already been fired and the decision already made. Luckily, no one was dead yet. Harper stepped from the Galley and into the hall beyond, just in time to hear the intercom announcing that their Second and former Pilot, Dorothy and Daphne Pender, were parting ways with Prometheus. Parting ways with Anisa.

	All of her bravado and violence aside, it must have torn her apart. Her former crew was all dead or leaving her. He was attached to Anisa by means of leverage and opportunity, and while he was a poor substitute for everyone that she had lost, Harper was going to be there. Distantly, he remembered the familiarity with which she had embraced Bridgette earlier. Had Anisa known what might happen, and sought to bring in others from her professional history? Was she already rebuilding a working crew before the hammer fell on Dorothy and Daphne? It would have been positively Machiavellian of her. The thought of it caused Harper to raise an eyebrow. How very interesting indeed.