[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] Foy-er [hr][/center]

	[color=f9ad81]"Orphan, my good sir?"[/color] asked Foy, half-understanding what the Shepherd was asking him. [color=f9ad81]"The circumstances of my birth, be they not of grand, epic undertaking, hails my personage from a well-to-do line of Gentry. My dear parents, though we have not much in the ways of daily discourse, are vigorously above ground."[/color] 

	Foy prepped his hot lather and readied a tray of sterilized instruments; sipped from a demitasse of rich, black coffee, and amended his previous statement. [color=f9ad81]"Upon further reflection, Preacher, it occurs that a Man of the Cloth, as it were, would have a penchant for parable and metaphor - as I suspect you guilty of presently. If you are asking if I am a churchgoing individual, I should have to admit that my spiritual and social needs are more briskly seen to with alternate method, sir."[/color]

	[color=f9ad81]"Ah! We are ready. Do sit down. Now, was that a trim as well, or merely a shave?"[/color] Foy smiled with just a twinkle of expectation. Regardless of circumstance, and this was no doubt unusual, Foy did have a simple love of his family's ancestral craft. [color=f9ad81]"So, however does a Preacher find himself in the employ of brigands? Meaning your crew or ours, of course."[/color] 

	

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://images2.fanpop.com/images/photos/8400000/John-Preston-christian-bale-8481614-500-375.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Retribution, Captain's Office -> Bridge[hr][/center]

	Harper walked away from the conversation as a man whose meal was interrupted. It was a promising start, and he was more or less confident that this Browncoat Captain wasn't going to kill him immediately. Something about an enigma - people wanted to figure it out before ditching it outright. So long as he wasn't viewed as a variable in some grand equation, he could rest a little easier. Uncertainties tended to make people in charge nervous. Still, he had more to share and a couple of requests to be made, all in the spirit of mutual good faith. For now, he was going to play ball, hopefully suppress an uprising before it starts, and get his freedom back. 

	Right at this moment, Harper settled into step back to the Bridge. He felt most at ease there with the exception of his own quarters behind a locked door. It was time for a quick check on sensors and diagnostics, maybe a slight course correction to maintain static position around this moon to evade detection from Whitefall and parts nearby. Satisfied that they were still beyond all but the most specific scrutiny (from much closer than the next moon over), he sighed lightly. Per suggestion of this woman, Crowe, his next task was to find the Browncoat pilot and acclimate her to the nuances of piloting a Patrol Boat. Hopefuy not too well, too fast. Handling Alliance craft was one bargaining chip he didn't want to do away with completely. Not until better trust was established. 

	It hit him - Harper had no idea where this lady pilot might be. He sighed again, this time more audibly. Time to start roaming the ship.