[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 Docks (Prometheus, Foy's Parlor)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Art, Perception [hr][/center]

	Foy did genuinely enjoy hearing himself speak. It was a foregone conclusion that he would; after all, he did have a rather high opinion of himself. And it was a good while since he had a frank and earnest discussion about his family's ancestral occupation. It was an interesting triviality, learning the trade, for a man who had come up in the social and financial circles that he did. But somewhere deep within the foppish nature of his bloodline, there was honest work ethic and the desire to see an ancient craft maintained. Heaven forbid that circumstances reduce his people to (perish the thought) the [i]working class[/i], that the would have means of supporting themselves. Luckily, in that regard, Foy had other gifts to pass down that had very little to do with hair, nor the behavior of gentlemen. 

	So long as Jacqueline wished to pursue civilized conversation, he was all for it. Particularly as it allowed him to discuss matters of which he was highly, highly qualified. It did give him the barest hint of caution; a woman of her talents might just be buttering him up to be devoured later. His clothes, watch, and mannerisms did mark him as a man of means, even if his present circumstances of contract and lodging did not. 

	The dapper Farradayan gentleman smiled politely at Jacqueline's words and opened his mouth to respond, only to have the situation around them cut off his train of thought. The Preacher had collapsed just outside of his wonderful new parlor, his "Foy-er", if you will, and lay on the ground in a very alarming state. Foy's head swiveled around to his curious guest as she proactively defended her innocence. [color=f9ad81]"Most assuredly madame, you did not do this! Worry not; if questioned on the matter, I shall provide proximal alibi even if I am unqualified to attest as a witness of character."[/color] He cleared his throat quietly and continued, [color=f9ad81]"But greater matters are at the fore! You understand, of course."[/color] 

	He marched solidly to the door to his little parlor, executed a nigh-flawless military left-face, and depressed the general announcement button on the terminal to the ship's public address system. [color=f9ad81]"Dr. Moreau and Dr. Pender, there is a Medical Emergency on the upper deck near the shuttle.  That is to say, if the medical staff would be as gracious, our esteemed Shepherd has abruptly collapsed in the most uncomfortable looking, wide-eyed position imaginable mere feet from my door. I repeat: Medical Emergency, upper deck, near the shuttle. Thank you."[/color]  

	There was concern for the well being of the Preacher, though not the expertise to do anything except get directly in the way. As such, Foy made no attempt to practice medicinal skills he did not possess, opting instead to step back inside of his new parlor and attend to his guest. [color=f9ad81]"There we are now, properly qualified assistance forthcoming. Sadly, I fear this has fractured our dialogue. Perhaps manners dictate we should hold a conversational hiatus until such time as our associate, The Shepherd, has tending?"[/color] Foy's eyebrows raised quizzically, even as he took a small sip of coffee from a delicate, porcelain cup.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://cdn.pastemagazine.com/www/system/images/photo_albums/christian-bale/large/15-bale-amidsummernightsdream.jpg?1384968217[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Newhope Docks (Prometheus, Lounge Area)
[b][color=008080]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

	If it was not an expression already, then it damned well should have been: [color=008080]"...it's too early for Farraday..."[/color] he mumbled half unintelligibly, scratching the side of his head. The doctor was correct, though. Harper had overlooked basic manners and failed to acknowledge the others in the room. [color=008080]"mmm... I'm sorry. Good morning, Doctor."[/color] he quickly corrected, and turned to Mei to express similar sentiment. [color=008080]"Zǎoshang hǎo, Miss... Qiáo, was it? I am sorry, some details escape me from last night. If I did not properly introduce myself yesterday, my name is William Harper. Pilot."[/color] A bit stiff, perhaps, but after his evening that was to be expected. 

        Harper returned his gaze to Jahosafat and gave a polite smile. [color=008080]"I appreciate the offer. Thank you, Doctor."[/color] Just as he was pouring himself a mug of the steaming, black ambrosia, he heard Foy's voice ring out over the PA. [color=008080]"Atticus?"[/color] he said aloud. He hadn't gotten to know the Preacher all that well, but he seemed like an okay guy. Hopefully, this wasn't a huge issue. Though Harper did look to Jahosafat expectantly.