[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, Medical -> Bridge [hr][/center]

	Harper blinked at the more junior pilot. No questions at all? No worries about unfamiliar protocol or shift changes? The Big Red Button scenario (any buttons I shouldn't press?) or the Death Blossom scenario (weapons systems or last resort contingencies)? These Independence pilots sure loved to wing it. The uncertain Lieutenant gave Daphne a once-over, trying to tell himself optimistically that maybe, just maybe, she had at least [i]some[/i] experience with vessels like this. I mean, this type of vessel was in use on both sides during Unification. It was possible this girl at least had a tutorial before now. 

	He couldn't help but notice the young woman's age. For her to be an Independent Pilot during the Unification War, she would have to have been a kid, practically. Now, that Browncoat Captain wanted her own pilot to be brought up to speed and deal with the sleepier off-shift, meaning that she'd be behind the stick for this time. Now, that wasn't a huge problem - long range ships often had two or more pilots on standby for just this reason - but Harper had a definite problem with an unresponsive and inexperienced pilot in control of a vessel he was standing inside of when there was a gaggle of Reavers on (or near) the planet behind whose moon they were hiding. No matter who was in the Pilot's chair, Harper was keeping tabs on the status of the ship. Period. 

	[color=008080]"Okay, great to hear."[/color] he said with more confidence in his voice than his heart. [color=008080]"I'm keeping this pager clipped to my uniform. If sensors pick anything up, I will know the moment you do. If any questions come to mind or you just want to talk, you may speak to speak to me through the pager. Controls are..."[/color] he pointed at a small cluster of buttons alongside the PA, [color=008080]"...here, ma'am. Anything at all, talk to me. In the meantime, you will find an overview manual on the vessel in the file marked "Operations" in the console's terminal. You shouldn't need clearance to view it."[/color] 

	The Lieutenant vacated the fore section of the Bridge, aiming for the exit to the main corridor. He hadn't gotten more than two steps when he felt the need to speak again. [color=008080]"We are in geosynchronous orbit on the far side of the this moon from Whitefall. Please do not make or plot any course adjustments unless there is [i]immediate[/i] need, ma'am."[/color] Harper turned and left the Bridge, intent upon locating Anisa Crowe. Despite the huge amount of noise coming from her office earlier, he felt the need to speak to the fiery Browncoat. At least to establish a few key items of ship security in their dire circumstance, and by extension, self-preservation. 

	And so, he took to walking the corridor. Up and back, find a ladder to the next deck, up and back again. Hopefully he would find the Independence Captain in reasonably good spirits. Hopefully. 

[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] Hallway just beyond -> Back to the Foy-er [hr][/center]

	As people began to clear from the hallway around the Recreation room, Foy began to quietly whistle a jaunty tune. He paused for just a moment as Genevieve was led through the doors and away from them; just long enough to lock eyes with her with an expression that seemed to scream, [color=f9ad81][i]"You owe me."[/i][/color] and spun about, his whistle returning like a wind-up toy whose clockwork slowly began to turn again. He returned to his parlor, motioning for Atticus to follow. [color=f9ad81]"Heavens no. I am positively an open book. It is the mere hubris of others that poses my gentle personage in a stance that fits their own interpretation of what I should be. Mystery indeed, sir."[/color] 

	Foy lightly slapped the back cushion of his barber's chair, calling out in uplifted notes, [color=f9ad81]"Come along then, Corinthians,"[/color] he continued with his barb from earlier, addressing him as a book from the Bible, [color=f9ad81]"We've much to finish up here before I believe your dear Captain will be satisfied with your cut and style; I daresay I shan't be either, until your locks exhibit style and acrimony, both. Then [i]you[/i] may send word back to your people that you have been cut by Foy, Gentleman of Farraday, and I might see to the status of my dear friend Josie, whose best presence has been lacking of late hours."[/color] 

	He snapped a pair of scissors open and closed a couple of times, motioning to the chair. [color=f9ad81]"Come, come! Let us finish up. I shall help you pick a proper aftershave, and mayhap as we continue we can discuss the finer points of gentlemanly combat. Tell me, do you lean toward fisticuffs or firearms, given your druthers?"[/color]