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

	Ah yes, of course. The Second. Foy had most assuredly made his deal with Anisa concerning the actions that he would take and who he would allow to order him about, but this... Okay, it made sense. Foy was, at least on the "extended temporary", naught but a face on board a mid-bulk transport vessel. Merely a well groomed man-at-arms, such as the profession still existed in one form or another, and subject to the same share of, of [i]manual labor[/i] as everyone else, unless they were to procure some manner of physically imposing stooge; a true Brick of a man, to fill said role. Until then, the Prometheus had to deal with the dapper grace and charming dexterity of Mr. Foy. 

	And what was that about "Mr. Foy"? It seemed rather that he was in the Navy. Well, he [i]kind of[/i] was, once upon a time, but that was long ago. And no one called him "Mr. Foy". Ever. [color=f9ad81]"Mr. Foy..."[/color] he mused aloud, trying out the syllables on his tongue. It sounded so provincial. Eh, he could live with it. He casually stepped over to the faceplate to his room's PA and keyed in the option indicating Medical. [color=f9ad81]"Indubitably, Miss Pender. I should be more than satisfied to attend to ... eh ... [i]domestic associations[/i], despite the pressingly pedestrian nature of it all. I should make note of a previous insistence, originating from our dear Captain that requires my presence in the Galley, and forthwith! Then I shall acquiesce to the mundane drudgery of squaring away quarters for whomever Captain Crowe has allotted them. And I am out, madame."[/color] 

	Though still technically indoors, Foy pulled on his suitcoat and bowler hat, eager to see to the day's business. With a spring in his step, the debonair Farradayan walked confidently from his room, turned down the corridor aft, and arrived with in the Galley/Lounge area with a slight, cocky smile. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BNTg5NmRmYzUtYzM3MS00OWU0LTgzYmMtNzc2OTFkZGZhMzI5XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNzU1NzE3NTg@._V1_CR0,45,480,270_AL_UX477_CR0,0,477,268_AL_.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Bridge)
[b][color=008080]Skills:[/color][/b] Computers [hr][/center]

	At first, Harper didn't fully grasp the nature of Anisa's command. It seemed contradictory, telling him to inform her when the new lady (and he used that term, Lady, [i]very[/i] loosely) had arrived. She was a double edged sword to Harper and they hadn't even met formally; obviously her skills and/or experience were required by the Captain now that she was down a crew member, though what she would have in common with Atticus was beyond Harper's capacity for rational thought. That wasn't quite his place to say, one way or another. He wasn't the guy in charge. He was just the guy that had to survive in the changing environment set before him. 

	But back to point, the request was to notify her the moment that this Vinters lady arrived, and simultaneously join her in the Galley, as he was non-medical crew. He puzzled on the proper way to handle it - perhaps he would rig the signal to broadcast into his personal earpiece whenever a wave was set to the ship. He had done something similar before. But then he regarded one word in her order: [u]rest[/u]. The rest of the crew. Apparently, those present in the bridge didn't quite count among the number that had to be briefed about the Preacher, which made sense considering he was already present when Dorothy gave the update over the intercom. [color=008080]"Yes, Ma'am."[/color] he said absently in the direction of the bridge door, toward the exiting form of Anisa. That was his task now. Wait for the lady to arrive. 





[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=ff4500]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d5/b4/78/d5b478ac0063ce48f5bab3cb5648b0a1.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Crappy Lodging (Near Lady Luck) -> Streets of Newhope Docks
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][/center]

	[color=ff4500]"Alright, fuck... Hey, wipe your face, Big Guy."[/color] said Bridgette to her not-so-little brother. [color=ff4500]"You can't meet new people with a face full of marshmallow fluff, okay Cyril?"[/color] It was a good feeling, leaving their temporary abode behind. It was, in her opinion, a total shithole. In several people's opinion, more than probably. But life did not completely suck, aside from some only partially crippling issues with stability and a dwindling, uncertain supply of funds. Hopefully, work on board [i]Prometheus[/i] would fix, well, one of those things. 

	Bridgette pulled her trunk behind her, its wheels occasionally clacking on uneven ground. She got the occasional stare, as she usually did. It was the cost of being [i]her[/i]. The stares were quickly abandoned as she slyly gave the returning sideways glance and twisted smile, as a cat might when sizing up an errant gerbil. The Docks were coming up before them, with all the hustle and bustle associated. In a place such as that, even someone like her who generally stood out might find that they blended in. 

	As their walk continued, she caught sight of an older Sino couple that she actually knew. Small world indeed! She had sold them a riding horse that she had acquired when she first hit this rock, and dirt cheap, too. Hell, it was practically a steal. And they ran a small restaurant stall, right at the edge of the Docks! Yeah, they'd be more than adequate to sate her need for something wholesome in the morning. Bridgette veered her course in their direction, stomach practically roaring in anticipation.