[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] Merchant Area [hr][/center]

	[i]Pudding Pop[/i]. Not too horribly colorful, but Foy could not fault the woman too much. Noting the distress it brought to her to say aloud, he surmised that it was due to a lack of practice in the art of fake, flirtations conversations, or that she really did consider Foy to be a horribly distasteful man. Or both; it could very well be both. The extremely dapper fellow was fully aware that his lavish and sophisticated ways tended to put off (as he would put it) persons of the less genteel of upbringing. But Dorothy was an educated woman, possessed of a fine brain and general social ability. Foy was certain she would grasp the meat of his intentions. 

	He accepted her hand and gave a small, smug smile. Stepping lightly, he continued along, eyes searching for the means to get around the building as soon as possible. There was a glimmer of longing as he heard the bell over the shop door and his eyes momentarily followed the sound to a wonderful sight for the man: A Men's Apparel Shop. Now, were he to have his preference, Foy was significantly more fond of the cut and feel of a bespoke suit, though it may be forgivable to purchase off-the-rack if he could find an appropriate fit and the quality was appropriately reputed. Unfortunately, he could not explore the brands of merchandise nor speak with the tailors present in McTavish's. He had a woman to track, and pursuant to this, a back alley to enter. 

	As they neared an appropriate entry point, Foy leaned in to speak with Dorothy. With low tones, he queried, [color=f9ad81]"If I may, Doctor, I am merely one of the players upon a stage of your choosing, following your artistic direction. Whatever are your intentions when we find this reprobate? I can play it as soft or as hard as you prefer, but I simply [i]must[/i] know beforehand."[/color] 



[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] Prometheus - Newhope (Docks) [hr][/center]	

	As it turned out, with a little forethought it would only take one trip to gather everything without giving himself a hernia in the process. He had a piece of roomy but standard luggage that featured wheels and a sturdy frame that he could pull behind himself, as he did on the Eavestown Docks back in Persephone. The new items that he had acquired were mostly to replace existing ones, so there was only a marginal increase in weight and packaging. The AKM that he had taken from the late Camilla's belongings admittedly was something completely new to him, as he did not carry a long rifle prior to his joining the new crew, but it slung across his shoulder in the ergonomic manner that it was supposed to. It was a tried and true soldier's weapon, and it carried like one. 

	The remaining items, a crate of preserved fruit and baked goods plus the BOX of ammunition that belonged to the lost crewmember, strapped to his case in the same manner that it had before, though now it was a little higher. Once everything was strapped down, put aside, and loaded for transport, Harper began the task of removing himself and his belongings into his new home. He gave curious nods to Atticus, Daphne, and Jahosafat as he passed them, and in fact stopped to pose a quick question to the native Farradayan Doctor on his way. [color=008080]"I know why I'm doing this, Dr. Moreau. I don't understand you and your friend are, though. Why?"[/color] To him, asking a question point blank like that was a serious gamble. His experience of recent years told him that questions led to conflict, and it was best to solve the dilemma on your own, else bribe someone who knew. A payoff was acceptable. A conversation was considered suspect. But he couldn't act like he was still in the Halo, as hard as some habits were to break. 

	He would have to get to know his new crew, at least a little. And they would have to feel that they trusted him, at least well enough to work alongside one another. Smooth things out with this mixed crew before small problems became big ones, just as long as he didn't get too comfortable. It probably wouldn't hurt for Harper to extend an olive branch to the other pilot either, he reasoned.