[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 (Foy's Parlor -> Jahosafat's Quarters)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	The coffee was indeed stellar, as was to be expected from his personal stock. There was just the tiniest difference of opinion between himself and Jahosafat about the nature of the perfect cup of coffee. Both agreed that it was best black. Diluting something as good and wholesome and pure as a cup of decent coffee with base impurities like sweetener and dairy products, let alone the concentrated, artificial flavorings that the plebeians ran toward all across the 'Verse. The nature of the disagreement lay in the points of origin of their preferred bean. Not to say that Foy did not respect and admire the selection of his childhood friend, just that his own [i]favorite[/i] was another varietal. 

	It was a good time for coffee. There was an emergency on, obviously, of which he had done his part. Sadly, said part involved the application of manual labor in the form of moving the object of said emergency from Point A (place of collapse) to Point B (Medical). Lowering himself to candy-striper duty was necessary, though just a hair distasteful. After such selfless work, Foy felt wholeheartedly that he deserved a quiet moment in more or less pleasant surroundings with a demitasse. Or three. 

	Then of course, a thought struck him out of the clear and blue sky: He had just borne witness to the private selection of fine and gentlemanly hats that belonged to Dr. Moreau. At least the ones that he took along with him while traveling. It was nonetheless a breathtaking collection. He positively [i]had[/i] to see more. Foy finished off his cup and sprung to his feet, his impressive madisons clapping upon the floor but the once, after which he started along the route that would take him back to Jahosafat's quarters. 

	There was the briefest of moments wherein he met the pilot, Harper, walking fore from the Lounge. They locked eyes for just a second, prompting Foy to give a greeting of sorts. [color=f9ad81]"Pleasant morrow again, [i]Lieutenant[/i]."[/color] He made a showing of giving a bow, then immediately returned to his structured pace. 

	He did not count on Harper actually responding to him. [color=teal]"I will be on the Bridge making preparations to leave soon, Mr. Coiffeur. You might want to get your doilies nailed down before takeoff."[/color] Harper did not slow his pace any more than Foy. Apparently, they both had things they would rather be doing than crossing swords right at that instant. 

	In Foys case, it was entering Jahosafat's room and perusing his fine headwear. It shouldn't take but a moment or so; he was very well acquainted with the wonder and niftiness of the various types of hats that a gentleman of standing might wear. It was curiosity that drew him. Naturally, he would have to confess his trespass to his friend and allow him the same liberty with his own collection of hats. Right now though, it was merely the bliss of looking over the private selection of a fellow connoisseur. 

	[color=f9ad81]"My word, but this man has an overabundance of stetsons..."[/color] he would say, along with other glib witticisms such as, [color=f9ad81]"Ah, this fine piece must be his second best 'around town' hat,"[/color] and [color=f9ad81]"Dear me, whatever is this? He must have been [i]perilously[/i] intoxicated upon purchase."[/color] Though there was the occasional, [color=f9ad81]"Now [i]this[/i] is a labor of true artistic rendering, if ever I've seen one. A penultimate example of true haberdasher's craftsmanship; verily a Hatter must have squandered a portion of his very soul upon this exquisite and vivacious status-bearing nod to St. Clement, Patron Saint of Hatmakers! Indeed sir, good show!"[/color]  

	Needless to say, he spent more than a moment to view. It was a bit of a passion for the man, obviously, one that struck a particular chord with the man. He had given the possibility of expanding his family's business into a true, multi-planet haberdashery, complete with dapper and bespoke suits, hats, possibly cologne selections. It was the next logical step. And this man's hats reminded him of this. Perhaps his down time should be spent drawing up administrative plans to that exact effect. Yes... an excellent use of his virtual exile, indeed.