[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]
	
	Foy sighed, and hard. He slowly whispered two words in reference to something he had mentioned in passing earlier, [color=f9ad81]"...pitiable indeed..."[/color] before answering Dorothy more audibly, [color=f9ad81]"The small answer is no, to be mot forthright. With regret Doctor, I am afraid that I must disappoint."[/color] The erstwhile chipper behavior was beginning to melt away, and he returned his revolver to its holster. He ave another cursory look around to see if he had missed anything basic. The alleyway was fairly well maintained (in comparison to the one they found themselves in after emerging from the fetid and stale storm drain), as one behind a commercial street might be. But no matter how hard he scrutinized their surroundings, he could discern no new footfalls, nor any sign of blood. He had not actually expected blood, but it was worth a check anyway. 

	[color=f9ad81]"If I may, madame? I am bereft of ideas as to which locale our quarry has absconded toward. I know that she is not here, though despite circumstantial matters to the contrary, I cannot speak to any certainty that she even set foot where we now place ours. Now, we could very well search that large and unpleasant refuse receptacle in hopes of turning up convincing evidence that she, in fact, [i]was[/i] here, though the time required would give her a respectable distance more away from us. Barring that, we could force ourselves into the ladies' clothier here and extract information from its proprietors,"[/color] he smiled a little too easily at that last thought, [color=f9ad81]possibly alongside a touch of impromptu dentistry to bolster our point... but that would also require the investment of time, and draw attention that we would pragmatically avoid this early into our visit to Newhope."[/color] 
	
	He straightened his tie over his ruined shirt and brushed off the arms and shoulders of his soiled coat as best he could in a futile gesture of attempted cleanliness, mustered as much dignity as the situation allowed, and looked to Dorothy, [color=f9ad81]"If you would allow me the honor of escorting you back to our temporary domicile, I wish to relocate my belongings someplace more permanent before it gets along in the day, and I am uncertain how much timenit shall take following a bitter and unsatisfying repast of crow."[/color] 

        Despite not actually being part of the crew proper (or for that matter, even being aware that they had a ship at that time), Foy felt the slightest twinge of negativity at their situation. In his mind, it was the smart call. Return to the ship, take stock of their new situation, and initiate steps to bolster their security. Perhaps Foy could garner a little extra "walking around money" by doing just that, hovering about the cargo door with his big Callahan firearm, overseeing the sanctity of whatever vessel they acquire until it was time to either review his contract or move along to the next one. 

        [color=f9ad81]"Well, solidarity, I suppose."[/color] he said with a hint of nonchalance. Offering his arm to Dorothy, he spoke in gracious tones, [color=f9ad81]"Shall we?"[/color] and motioned back out of the alley the way they came. 



[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 turns out, when you depart an Alliance vessel and your new Captain wants nothing with a molecule of Alliance association brought along afterward, there really wasn't a lot carry in. Now, personal effects were a different story. Each member of the dearly (and not so dearly) departed crews of both the [i]Vengeance[/i] and the [i]Retribution[/i] had their personals and sundries stored in Cargo, which meant it was moved into the holding dock, which of course meant it now had to be moved back. New ship, but when you're lugging around someone else's stuff the distinction gets a little blurry. All the same, Harper took note of what they didn't have; supplies, provisions, extra parts, and realized that they were going to be busy the next day. 

        Well, Harper was no stranger to hard work, that was for sure. So, grab another box. Carry another case. Load up yet another armful of things that belonged to a dead person. Vaguely, he wondered if some of their clothes would fit. He was a pretty slender guy, that Tanner might have a few things he could appropriate. He was a little curious on how he would look in a brown coat... Maybe later. 

        Harper had taken note of the younger pilot, Daphne, for a while now. Carefully observing from the periphery, he had been trying to gauge her reaction to a new pilot coming on board. As of yet, all he could surmise was that the Captain wasn't 100% pleased with the young lady recently, but nothing of her ability nor mindset. As his work progressed, he made it a point to reach out to her, conversationally at least. 

        [color=008080]"Ma'am? Ah, sorry. Daphne?"[/color] he started, much as a person might who was recently out of the military and was trying to readjust to casual speech, [color=008080]"If I might, um, how long have you been with the Captain? You seem young for this kind of work."[/color] Harper held his voice authoritative but neutral, trying not to sound judgemental; merely a detached, inquisitive party.