[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-joToxLegqZk/UlP_OiXe43I/AAAAAAAAcfs/_sbEOs83YPQ/s400/Peinados+de+hombres+al+estilo+de+Christian+Bale-1.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Outside the Retribution -> Cargo [hr][/center]

	Harper could hear the commotion over the PA. It was faint(ish) from outside of the ship, but what with the cargo door open to facilitate movement, it could be heard that the new Captain was rather upset and demanded an audience with the very lady he was waiting on. Naturally, he wasn't sure what to make of her last comment before she left, promising a promotion in the event that gunfire broke out. It was a little troubling. But, he had hitched his wagon to these people for at least the next two years. That was the plan now. Stay out from under the Alliance's scrutiny with these people, reemerge as a released P.O.W., retire as a Captain at thirty-five. Then do whatever the hell he wanted to, even if that meant becoming a dedicated Browncoat. Though in truth, he'd rather retire on a border planet somewhere. Not too far away from tech and convenience, not too close to the Core and their agenda. Persephone, maybe. That rock looked inviting. 

	But he digressed. The wait for Dorothy would be a bit longer than expected, and Anisa [i]did[/i] tell him to hold fast for the potential buyer. Harper had a streak of impatience milling in the back of his mind, having been given permission to search the belongings of their former crewmate to replace his Alliance issue sidearms. It was rather like waiting for Christmas morning, seeing what he might unwrap. Harper did not consider himself a "gun person", persay, though he understood the necessity of staying armed in this part of the 'Verse; how it tied directly with survival. Besides that, his training with the Alliance Military gave him familiarity with all manner of firearms. While no master marksman, Harper passed all of his practical examinations with marksmanship well enough, and had a little combat experience to boot. Ditching his present gun was a prudent move. He most certainly did not want to be caught holding a weapon with a serial number and shot signature issued to a Black Ship crewmember. 

	Until this business with Dorothy and the Captain was over, Harper was just going to hang around until one or both of them decided to return. Unless something pressing came up, anyway. Hopefully, the buyer would arrive in the next three seconds, followed by Anisa over the course of the [i]next[/i] three. Then he could have his Christmas morning. 



[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 -> Cargo Bay [hr][/center]

	Meanwhile, as the PA barked at Dorothy, Foy found himself participating in the wonder of manual labor, carrying his own things down below for what would likely be very upsetting poking and prodding, shuffling through his things ([i]none[/i] of which were Alliance in the least) in a manner that he would find quite disagreeable. But, it was the price one paid, living the high life and then suddenly getting sucked into speaking glibly with a Shepherd as he made an effort to recruit him into some cause or another. At least the Man of the Cloth was giving him an assist, carrying his belongings down below. 

	As they dropped off the first load near the loading ramp, Foy stepped outside to retrieve the grav dolly, looking to Harper with a curious expression. [color=f9ad81]"You're certainly settling in with the riffraff quite fluidly, are you not? Hmm..."[/color] There was something about that man that he didn't quite trust, but that intrigued him. This man was hiding something. He had to know. 

	Foy smiled, waving his hand dismissively at the man as if he were merely joking, and then returned to Atticus in the Cargo hold. [color=f9ad81]"Yes, my good man. I shall strike a bargain with you, Leviticus: You exercise whichever manner of businesslike influence you may have upon your dear Captain, mainly to ensure that my professionals, intimates, and personals all find space in whatever boat she intends to acquire; further that said space is liberally adequate for a professional such as myself can ply his trade with ample elbow room, and I sir, shall give you until your next planet, as you so eloquently discussed earlier. Though I must do some dealing in the nearest civilized polis on hasty condition beforehand. Have we an accord, sir?"[/color]

	Foy removed his bowler cap and extended his hand to the Preacher. He flashed a quick smile. [color=f9ad81]"Have we?"[/color]