[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] Lounge (Sealed Off) [hr][/center]

	[color=f9ad81]"Well sir, merely as one man's observation, but this the details of this occasion certainly explain the redundancy associated with employing [i]two[/i] experienced ne'er-do-wells aboard a vessel of this, ahh... diminution."[/color] Foy tried to choose that last word with something resembling lightly sarcastic tact. 

	This was a small vessel, as Alliance ships went. The presence of a Mercenary and an Assassin, both, on a patrol boat that had been reduced to a skeleton crew was unheard of, barring pressing, extenuating circumstances. [color=f9ad81]"Even if, my good fellow, [i]one[/i] of those ne'er-do-wells is a fount of nigh aristocratic refinery, from which the underprivileged crew may draw fine example."[/color] 

	Foy was, of course, referring to Foy. It was widely known among anyone who had been in a conversation with the man that he had a high opinion of himself. [color=f9ad81]"Whereas I do myself no small amount of metaphorical handshakery, gentlemen,"[/color] he continued, now speaking to both men, [color=f9ad81]"rest assured I make a legitimate observation. This ship ordinarily would not be crewed by non-military personnel, to say nothing of the truly vorpal presences of private contractors such as Miss Lobo and myself."[/color]

	It seemed a bit off topic, but the always sharp Mr. Coiffeur felt the need to press his point. Partially because he enjoyed hearing himself speak, but also because it drew a piece of nervous attention away from the Box of Medically Paralyzed Monster. [color=f9ad81]"Now, (and correct me if I'm wrong, Captain Quinn, it's been a while since my own commission) if a ship is journeying about with something specifically unsavory in mind, that may warrant the presence of someone such as, again, our dear Miss Lobo. The fact that I am here as well means that there is more to be revealed about our black and frightening mission. Whereas I am ...comfortable..."[/color] The last word was enunciated with just a hint of a smile, [color=f9ad81]"...with my own sense of personal value, I hold no illusions that the Alliance now views me as anything but a six-foot stack of talent and experience, contractable and expendable without public accountability."[/color]

	Foy understood how this worked. Everyone has their own piece of the puzzle, those pieces fit together into a single, successful mission. Very few could see the whole picture, possibly not even Dr. Jahosafat Moreau. It was the way of things. Just so long as they understood that his contract contained his own terms and provisos. He was not an indentured servant. 

	[color=f9ad81]"Josie, you and I go back to our salad days, old boy. I'll look after you, you look after me. Carla is a fine choice as your primary security. She'll do her job and not distract - no matter how hard you try, you rakish houndsman! I can maintain my position on the boat, and be at your beck if something, ah, special requires my attention."[/color]

	[color=f9ad81]"And Greg, (may I call you Greg?) I am a professional, sir, and my contract is my very mucilage. So long as terms are met, your office shall [i]always[/i] have the mark of respected guideline."[/color]

	[color=f9ad81]"So, gentlemen... This is not the ideal situation for everyone, but here we are. However we kick off the gallant festivities, I recommend we commence, and posthaste."[/color]