[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] N/A [hr][/center]

	The Esteemed Mr. Coiffeur decorated his face with a strange look at Jacqueline's question concerning his method of speech. It wasn't quite shocked, nor was it appalled. He wasn't angry nor taken aback, nor was his an expression of confusion, though all of these things might be supposed, each unlikely possibility mixed with an obvious helping of dry, derisive amusement. 

	It could be wondered why a man such as this would exhibit emotion that was callously inappropriate to the situation at present, but to delve into the psyche of The Foy at this juncture would prove to be a journey counterproductive to the ongoing narrative. At any rate, one would have to know the man personally to understand. He did not [i]not[/i] care about what was occurring; quite the opposite. If for no other reason, some of his best work adorned the man's face and head, and he did not wish for Atticus to go out in the manner of his own personal "Yeoman's Tale" he had mentioned in brief back aboard the [i]I.A.V. Retribution[/i]. Plus, the good Shepherd amused him. Foy was not a man who was in good with those preaching the shiny and hereafter. Despite this, Atticus seemed a decent enough fellow, by his standards. But without the ability to assist in his medical care, it served no purpose to anyone if he got his hair all a muss over it. 

	Foy looked from his childhood friend Jahosafat to his new acquaintance Jacqueline, back to Jahosafat, and then back to Jacqueline. One of them needed something desperately, and he had been given a challenge of verbiage (kinda) by the other. Both of these encounters needed to be addressed, and he intended to in the same manner that he preferred both his guns [i]and[/i] his paramours: Simultaneously.

	Clearing his throat, Foy stepped back to the comm terminal near the door to the Foy-er. [color=f9ad81]"Regular sentence, indeed..."[/color] he sneered, depressing the "public address" button and, as the name suggested, addressed publicly. [color=f9ad81]"Adrenaline needle, Defibrillator, and Ox Bag, Dr. Pender - Requisite materials for the medicinal attentions, which are rightly situated in Medical, if you would be as kind as to give it your professional attentions as you advance hither, madame.[/color] 

	But it didn't stop there. [color=f9ad81]"The season of heroic attempts are upon us! Indubutibly, and henceforth, as we stride confidently to meet our grand destiny, and fulfill the contract of social necessities made as such by our undeniable, guttural camaraderie under the raw banner of Prometheus crewfolk! Indeed, again madame; Adrenaline needle, Defibrillator, Ox Bag, and spare not the horses!"[/color] 

	Smug confidence settled over Foy. He looked to Jacqueline, seemingly secure in the fact that he nailed the "regular sentence challenge", only to have that confidence melt away from his face much slower than it appeared. Shifting to mildly self-conscious doubt, Foy cleared his throat, muttered a quick [color=f9ad81]"Excuse me."[/color] and stepped back to his cup of coffee. 

	



[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]

        This was a hell of a situation to regard, even for those with a less suspicious, pesudo-paranoid bent than Harper. New people come on board and the Preacher has himself an unfortunate cardiac event, if Foy's second announcement was accurate. Then again, this new line of Farraday-babble was intense, if confusing to the extreme. However, he did recognize the words that were repeated - words like "defibrillator" and "adrenaline". He was no doctor, obviously, but he had been around the occasional medical emergency before. And of course, the odd medical drama or two that found itself on the various screens that made life entertaining and informative most everywhere on Core worlds. Definitely on his native Osiris, a rock he would likely never see again. Even if he did, he could never leave the ship for fear of being recognized. Recognition was, in a word, [i]bad[/i]. Hazardous, even. 

	The thought occurred to him that he was new to the crew as well, by a matter of a very small amount of time. He wondered exactly what the Captain must think about all of this, being as she was pretty much surrounded by a whole new crew. Hell, for all he knew, he was suspect in whatever took hold of Atticus, though he did have one hell of an alibi over the course of the previous night and the present morning. But speaking of Anisa, he did just clearly hear her voice ring out from up the hallway. Whatever was happening between the two of them, be it personal, strictly casual, or something else entirely, Harper was bound as part of her crew, perhaps more than anyone else on their new boat. 

	Harper rose, following Mei from the room at a respectful distance. Crowding the medic was a stupid idea. Making himself and his generally cool head available for his Captain in a time of crisis, on the other hand, was a prudent idea. Harper stayed back, leaning against the wall in the hallway leading out of the Lounge. Harper's hand trailed to the spanner at his hip; it was partly out of instinct, given the tense situation, and partly just because he favored his large, painful wrench. He could see just enough of the scene to get a good idea as to what was going on, but more importantly, he caught sight of Anisa. The instant he found her gaze, he gave a slight but professional nod in her direction, signalling that he was indeed back on the clock.