[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]

	The proclamation of the lovely and clandestinely talented Jacqueline made Foy's eyes widen. Further, as ubiquitous an expression as an eyebrow raise was among every culture across the 'Verse and the annals of time going back the untold millennia to the invention of the aforementioned eyebrow raise, Foy somehow managed to make this minor facial movement grow into something not only noticeable, but take up more than half of his highly smug, yet dignified face. A smile formed across his lips, which promptly turned into a grin, which further transformed into a chortling guffaw. Not a laugh in the traditional sense, nor a titter, nor even a chuckle, cackle, nor subtlest of gigglery. This was a guffaw. Foy had the good manners to catch himself before he had to take a knee and grapple with the side of the table in hopes of preventing a spill onto the questionable sanitation of the establishment's floor. 

	With an overt lowering his tone but not necessarily the volume of his voice, giving the mere suggestion of speaking privately without the messy baggage of actually giving any privacy, Foy imparted what he considered to be decent and worldly words of experience. [color=f9ad81]"Ha ha, hoo... Ah, my dear woman, you assume much too highly of my intentions, and considerably too much concerning your powers of influence upon my person. Indeed, attention has already been paid toward my proclivities in the arena of succinct and extremely personal interactions; furthermore you do not remotely fit the criteria of a proper paramour for a Coiffeur, not being a lady [i]professionally[/i] inclined toward the Craft Horizontal, nor one of marriageable standing."[/color] It was an odd pairing for the general selection of those Foy would calculate lucky enough to associate with him in that regard, but if one understood the family's culture and customs, it did make some sense. [i]Some[/i]. 

	[color=f9ad81]"A [i]dance[/i], Miss Croix, is my offer. Privilege enough for many who would associate thusly."[/color] He twirled the end of his fine moustache, and opened his mouth to say more but was waylaid by what he saw transpiring at the table. He raised a finger, indicating a moment of conversational respite while he witnessed something ...interesting. That lucky little snot had done it again. [color=f9ad81]"Oh, my dear Jahosafat, do you spy what I spy, my good sir? Why you must; and as a matter of technicality, being that you are incrementally closer than myself to those cards, you must have borne witness to it first!"[/color] Fitz had done it again, of course, laying down a hand that made it statistically impossible for any other arrangement of cards left in the deck to claim victory. [color=f9ad81]"I mean no insult, my dearest Dr. Moreau. None in the slightest as I say this; it is merely that the analogy you had put into the verbal offerings of the hour seem best paraphrased and turned to its reciprocal. To wit: Any wool left upon the flock of pink and shiny sheep has been shorn, collected, and spun into a purse to collect his winnings. Whether those winnings come as a result of beginer's luck, hidden skill, or unscrupulous cheating is beyond my comprehension. I am merely exhibit a sense of profound satisfaction that I turned my cards over before the last round of wagers were finalized."[/color] 

	Foy gave a nod to Fitz, intoning a warm, [color=f9ad81]"To use the colloquial phrase of the plebeians - Cheers to you, sir."[/color] Or at least as warm as someone like Foy could muster in the circumstance. Then back to Jacqueline, [color=f9ad81]"If you are still in the spirits for a rousing bit of heel-to-toe, Miss Croix, shall we begin?"[/color] Foy began to make his way to the floor, company notwithstanding to his decision. He was cutting a rug that evening, and making gallant sport of it, one way or another.