[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=f9ad81]Foy Coiffeur[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/de/32/ca/de32ca1bb56ed12e256aa147a7a911c4.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=f9ad81]Location:[/color][/b] Newhope - Lady Luck (Table, Main Room)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Carouse, Perception [hr][/center]

	Foy turned his head to the side ever so slightly as Jacqueline continued what he considered a wholly unnecessary slander on his ancestral occupation. Polite society would have treated the situation with more gentility, befitting his breeding and entrepreneurial accomplishments. Even his military contacts would treat him as an asset; maybe not with kid gloves but a certain amount of mutual respect. Even trust. But Society, Industry, and Military were areas in which Foy were most competent and comfortable. These comparatively sticky surroundings where his reputation was not well established did not do well for polite conversation. Point of fact, Foy was certain that the only way he would get an ounce of trust or respect among these people, who were supposed to be his crewmates now (or most of them), would be through a live fire demonstration of his less business-related skills. Sadly, there was not proper opportunity at the moment. Nor would it be a good idea to create such an opportunity. They needed to keep a more-or-less low profile, and opening a torrent of other peoples' blood across the floor would be the extreme opposite of that. 

	Then he realized what the feminine grifter meant by her last statement, and raised an eyebrow in her direction. [color=f9ad81]"You have an abrupt manner about you, madame. I trust we shall leave each other's anatomy roughly intact, regardless of whatever little adventures into which ensconce ourselves this evening. Or to put it more plainly, I shall appreciate your company upon the dance floor, to partake in a few moment's frivolity. I shall not think less of you if you miss a step, so long as you do not think less of me when I check my wallet upon our cessation."[/color] He stepped from behind his chair and offered Jacqueline his arm, [color=f9ad81]"At your pleasure, Miss Croix."[/color] 

	The proper order of conversation generally went to the fairer gender first, followed by others. While Foy had heard every beaming bit of professional confirmation heaped upon him by the fellow Farradayan, he had elected to wait until now to address the man. [color=f9ad81]"Truly, you are a praiseworthy man, Dr. Moreau, to likewise bestow praise with such tact and veracity. I tip my hat to you and your fine family as well, and I am indubitably honored to have the opportunity to service your personal grooming needs. Such are the words of gentlemanly stature, sir. And thusly! Yes, thusly it behooves me to honor your request, at the absolute least. I shall not leave this table until you have sheared the last scrap of wool that your noble hand of cards may clip, indeed!"[/color] The hand was seconds away from being over. It was a pause. A throat clear. A handful of heartbeats until toes would tap and heels would shuffle.  

	Thus spake The Foy.