[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=f9ad81]Foy Coiffeur[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]http://goodwillwatching.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/A-million-ways-to-die-in-the-west-640x350.png[/img][hr][b][color=f9ad81]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Medical -> Foy's Parlor)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	Though the words were meant for Harper, Foy gave a slight bow at Anisa's words and quietly slipped out of the Med Bay. There was a highly convenient set of spiral stairs leading back to the upper deck, which pleased the extremely well-groomed man to no end. Without the burden of the makeshift stretcher, he could ascend quickly and return to the relative civility (at least from a Farradayan perspective) of his Foy-er. With nothing to really do in regards to either of his given occupations, either as tradesman or as an Independent Contractor, he was essentially left to his own devices. Such was the way of Foy: a gallivanting piece of remarkably well dressed scenery, ready to lend comment or grooming advice to whatever situation he felt required it at the moment, seemingly without care nor obligation to weigh upon him - unless the extremely short-term but inevitable necessity occurred that his skills were required. Such events cemented the oft questioned reasoning behind his presence. 

        But seeing as no one needed to be shuffled off from their mortal coil, nor even an example made of them in this potentially dark hour, it was best for the Farradayan gentleman to return to his lair to await the moment he might be called upon to ply his trade in earnest. Either of them. That, and he still had the most lovely pot of carefully selected and roasted coffee waiting on him. Such were the pursuits of a gentleman, be he one of industry or leisure. 

	Upon reaching his the Foy-er, he was a little disappointed to note that the young lady with whom he was passing a fairly mundane but equally entertaining morning was no longer there. [color=f9ad81]"Certainly,"[/color] he said aloud in a derisive tone, [color=f9ad81]"The luxury of the coffee alone sufficiently warrants the continuation of one's presence, setting aside the magnetism of the conversationalist."[/color] He was in fact referring to himself in his little monologue, a thing which he found awfully clever and expressed as much by giving a half smile with one corner of his mouth. Gingerly, he topped off his previously abandoned, pre-emergency cup and took a sip. [color=f9ad81]"Perfection."[/color] 

        In truth, Foy was more than a little concerned with what had just transpired. The Shepherd seemed a lively sort, even okay by his reckoning. At the very least he was not boring, when he wasn't quoting scripture. And he did not want to see his good friend Jahosafat's efforts go in vain. But there was nothing for him to do, no way he could assist. His resolution, then, for the next hour was to enjoy his coffee and afterward make the short walk to the Lounge to engage with the rest of the crew. In the immediate, Foy was going to sit quietly in his parlor and sip. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.cinemablend.com/filter:scale/cb/6/4/a/b/d/a/64abda9122910e2617318cdc3d43516062ebc1ae5b880e96ddb5beadc78d4655.jpg?mw=600[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Medical -> Lounge)
[b][color=008080]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][/center]

        To his credit, Harper did not snap to attention and salute Anisa on the spot. The situation seemed a lot less formal than that at the time. He did cast a glance over at the two medical professionals working on Atticus, letting it linger for a second before focusing back on his Captain. [color=008080]"Right away, Ma'am."[/color] he responded, giving her a momentary questioning look before remembering himself, nodding, and exiting Medical. He was part of a crew again, thankfully not Alliance, and he had his own duties to perform for his Captain, whatever the situation may be otherwise. 

        Harper saw the same spiral staircase that his moustached associate did, and in fact could hear the last of Foy's footfalls at the top of them by the time he reached the bottom. He didn't recall Anisa giving him an order to carry out, though if they were hitting the Black after a bit, he doubted that anyone was going for a trim just then. Of course, much in the same way that the Barber figured there was more to Harper than being a former Alliance pilot, Harper was damned sure that Foy didn't just cut hair and come from money; nor was there any denial on the matter. Foy even made little innuendos about it constantly. 

        It was of little matter anyway. Harper was ready to leave this rock and get back out into the 'Verse. He had zero problems with preparing Prometheus for a ready takeoff, however he did agree with Anisa's suggestion to grab some breakfast first. So, Lounge it was. By the time he had ascended the staircase and made his way back to the scene of the incident with Atticus, Foy was nowhere to be seen. Judging that he ducked into either his room or his barbershop, a slightly more relaxed Harper made his way down the hall and into the Lounge, which was surprisingly almost unoccupied. Almost. 

        Mei, the previous stowaway, had gotten the same idea and was sitting down to breakfast. Cautiously at first, Harper traversed the length of the Lounge and into the Galley portion of the room, recovering his coffee. It was quite tepid by now, but he didn't really care. He did take the time to locate and fast-reheat a couple of the sandwiches Atticus prepared the day before, set them on a plate, and grab his cup. 

        Naturally, an opportunity for one-on-one time like this could not be passed up, and the young lady didn't look like she was going to murder him on the spot, so he politely intoned, [color=008080]"Miss Qiao, was it? Might I join you briefly?"[/color]