[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] Med Bay -> Upper Corridor [hr][/center]

	[color=f9ad81]"That is a prodigious amount of blood, Josie."[/color] remarked Foy as the vials were filled, labelled, and set aside. [color=f9ad81]"I do hope the intent is not to grow another [i]me[/i], good sir. I daresay the 'Verse just isn't capable of handling that much raw, genteel refinement."[/color] He chuckled a self-assured [color=f9ad81]"Ho Hooooo... Perhaps one day."[/color]

	Foy wiped a tear away from the corner of his eye, genuinely impressed with his own joke. When the request to deliver the other two crates was put to him, the stately gentleman leapt at the task. [color=f9ad81]"Absolutely, Dr. Moreau. We shall set upon it straightaway. Right, Miss Lo..."[/color] Foy stopped, noting that Carla was already leaving the room. He had assumed that his childhood friend was speaking to himself and the other private contractor in the vicinity. The only other person nearby at the time was the Retribution's dedicated Medical Officer, Dr. Friedrich Knochengeiger. 

	Okay, perhaps Jahosafat meant him. Foy rolled his head back to face the slender physician. [color=f9ad81]"Well then, Freddy... Oh, may I call you Freddy? Informality lightens heavy labors, I find. At any rate, we appear to find ourselves in the interesting position of being each others' dance partners for the interim. So, shall one of us follow the other, or would it be more sporting to stride abreast and speak of gentlemanly things along the way? I have acquired the most interesting reproduction of the personal writings of the legen(wait for it)[i]dary[/i] pugilist John L. Sullivan, if that fits your interest, sir."[/color]

	The Ship's Doctor stared at Foy with wordless distaste for a few scant seconds, really letting tension build in the room before issuing a coldly venomous hiss in the form of mostly articulated words, [color=#00C5CD]"[i]Nein[/i]. You hired hands are here for lifting and following orders. Now if you will excuse me, I have something [u]Medical[/u] that needs my attention."[/color] The gaunt Doctor clicked his heels together, adjusted an imaginary monocle, and walked briskly from the Med Bay. 

	Foy was slightly taken aback. That was callously unnecessary, even for a man as generally disagreeable as Dr. Knochengeiger. Especially considering Foy's own status on the social hierarchy. It invoked immediate irritation that he kept very well hidden. Curiosity did find him, though. The dapper gentleman found himself peeking around the door and into the main corridor, watching where his "new best friend" might have been going with such importance. The Doctor ascended a ladder nearby, taking him away from both Cargo and most anything medical. [color=f9ad81]"How very interesting, Freddy."[/color] remarked Foy to himself, [color=f9ad81]"Let us see what you are really doing..."[/color] Obviously, Foy followed the man. Up stairs and trailing back a ways, just to see what room he would enter. 

	When he saw the man stop at a restroom closet door, he stopped short. Even let loose a chuckle, despite himself. The door swung open just enough to allow the physician entry, but it also allowed Foy to see a single red banner across the door. From this distance it could not be clearly read, but the meaning of it was known: Out of Service. Foy giggled again, raising his hand and calling out for the man. [color=f9ad81]"Um, Doctor, that's...[/color] before he thought better of it. [color=f9ad81]"Eh, he's a smart man. Doctor, even. He'll figure it out."[/color]

	Foy took to whistling a cheerful tune as he turned and began walking aft. He still had to find an otherwise unoccupied body to give him an assist, hauling those crates up to the Med Bay. The whistling paused for just a moment, as Foy mused aloud, [color=f9ad81]"Unpleasant fellow, but [i]my[/i] does he have a classy monocle."[/color]