[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=f9ad81]Foy Coiffeur[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://snippetstudios.files.wordpress.com/2014/05/a-million-ways-to-die-in-the-west-640x350.png[/img][hr][b][color=f9ad81]Location:[/color][/b] Prometheus (Foy's Quarters -> Galley)
[b][color=f9ad81]Skills:[/color][/b] Perception [hr][/center]

	Mr. Coiffeur sat quietly in the midpoint seat of one of the tables in the Galley. He had somehow procured for himself yet another demitasse of rich, black coffee, but seemed to let it merely steam, resting upon a plain porcelain saucer. He was alone in that room for the first few moments, and spent them listening to himself breathe while staring at the vapors wafting away from his hot, black beverage. Smiling contentedly, Foy drew from the back of his belt a nigh comically oversized straightrazor, seemingly designed for purposes other than providing a close shave in proper, talented hands. Such was Foy. 

	He put one leg across the other, sitting in comfortable repose. The razor in his hands was utilized for nothing more than reflecting light from one spot to another. It was a thing of masterfully crafted, elegant beauty wrapped with cold intimidation. Absently, he trimmed the barest layer of epidermis from the edge of his thumb and then went back to merely regarding his favorite sharp implement with admiration. 

	It wasn't long until someone else arrived. Some two, point of fact. [color=f9ad81]"Miss Croix, Miss Qiao,"[/color] he said, closing his blade and setting it on the table before him. [color=f9ad81]"Lovely to see you again this fine morning. And it most certainly [i]is[/i] a fine morning, is it not? Medical emergency aside, naturally."[/color] In that moment, Anisa entered and, upon noting the lack of personnel in the room, gave her second address over the whole of the ship. [color=f9ad81]"My, how positively [i]scandalous[/i]..."[/color] 

[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 -> Galley)
[b][color=008080]Skills:[/color][/b] Computers [hr][/center]

	Ok, it was distinctly possible that Harper had completely misjudged the nature of the order from Captain Crowe. Instead of the remainder of the crew showing up in the Galley for briefing, it was the [i]entirety[/i]. This was not what he had in mind when making the call to stay within the confines of the Bridge and wait for this potential human trainwreck to manifest in front of the vessel. It probably was the proper course of action to head his narrow ass to the Galley, firstly because Anisa had offered up a pretty convincing argument as to why he should reconsider, and secondly because the angry lady was supposed to arrive in roughly one hour. It was quite possible, given all things considered, that the talk session with the crew would take less time than that. Better safe than sorry.

	Harper hastily keyed the specifics of his earpiece comm into the ship's computer and left the Bridge at a jog. Hopefully, the device would now alert him in the event that they were being hailed or a non-shipwide alert sounded from the Bridge. In effect, it utilized his comm like one would a standard electronic paging device common to small crew ships like this one. There was likely already a pager somewhere on the Bridge, but right in that moment Harper had no idea where it might be. Task for tomorrow. 

	As he neared the archway at the end of the corridor to the Lounge/Galley area, Harper brought his jog down to a brisk walk. Entering, he intoned a quick, [color=008080]"Ma'am."[/color] and found a seat around the periphery of the others present. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=ff4500]Bridgette Vinters[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ee08c0f4-d9d6-4483-837d-cef5143cc12c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=orangered]Location:[/color][/b] Streets of Newhope Docks
[b][color=orangered]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A[hr][/center]

        There was a small amount of anticipation as Bridgette approached the restaurant stall near the edge of the docks. It was the little things, as cliched as it was, that brought her joy. One such little thing was enjoying a simple and nourishing breakfast in the open air, even if that open air was around the Newhope docks. A brief exchange followed as Bridgette and the older couple exchanged pleasantries. They remembered the tall Aesir native, and with kindness as well. That was a rare concept, in her experience. Bridgette looked over to her little brother, whispering to him with an encouraging, [color=orangered]"Hey, lemme know if you want anything, okay?"[/color] 

	Bridgette moved to place her order and reached into a pocket for enough local scrip to cover the cost, but the gesture was quickly waved away. She wasn't sure why they were being so kind; far be it for her to pass up a free meal, however. You take the breaks that come your way. Scanning through her options, Bridgette pointed to a bowl of rice pudding and a handful of juicy, seasoned strips of meat on sticks. She tore into the pudding first, attacking it with a decided lack of table manners bordering on wild abandon. To her credit, it [i]was[/i] really good. But being fair, she wasn't the sophisticated, fork-on-the-right kind of girl anyhow. 

	When she got to the meat skewers, Bridgette was near speechless. [i]Near[/i]. [color=orangered]"Whoa... This is cuntslap fucking [i]amazing[/i]. Can I have a couple more?"[/color] There was a light in her eyes that let slip that she was duly impressed with the meal, and in such a way that almost made up for the stunning display of vulgarity that had equal chances of being labeled [i]Mental Illness[/i] or [i]Superpower[/i]. Regardless, the older lady behind the counter smiled and gave her another handful. Bridgette pulled one off of the stick and shoved the whole thing into her mouth, chewing mightily. When she had gnawed through just enough to facilitate limited speech, she made a valiant attempt to do so. [color=orangered]"I mean Jesus Fuck, I'd give a Reaver a handie for one of these. What's in it?"[/color] 

	The couple laughed, though a tad uneasily. After a couple of seconds discussing among themselves, the responded to their guest. "[b]Fēicháng gǎnxiè qián jǐ tiān duì ròu de hǎo jiàgé[/b]."[sub]1[/sub] 

	Bridgette was rather taken aback by the statement. That is to say, she didn't have a clue what they were talking about. [color=orangered]"Um... huh?"[/color] 

	"[b]Zhè ròu![/b]"[sub]2[/sub], emphasized the man again, nodding his head with a grateful smile, "[b]Xièxiè. Shíjiān hěn jiānnán, nǐ gěi wǒmen zúgòu de ròu, ràng wǒmen de shāngdiàn kāifàng yīgè yuè, fèiyòng.[/b]"[sub]3[/sub] Both of them bowed low to Bridgette, expressing happy gratitude repeatedly. When they finally rose, the lady plunked a large mug of tea in front of Bridgette and Cyril both. 

	The Viking lady was stunned. She didn't sell them any meat, she sold them a... [color=orangered]"Shit."[/color] It took her a second to realize that she had said it out loud. Bridgette sold them her horse just last week, but she thought they needed it for pulling carts or a gift for their grandkids or something. This just seemed [i]wrong[/i] somehow. [color=orangered]"I'm so sorry, Muffins."[/color] she whispered gently to her meat stick. Her eyes came up to meet theirs, unsure as to how she would proceed. The problem was, it was undeniably delicious. 

	The query of, "[b][b][b][b][b][b][b][b][b]Nǐ hái hǎo ma?[/b][/b][/b][/b][/b][/b][/b][/b][/b]"[sub]4[/sub] snapped Bridgette out of it. 

	[color=orangered]"Ah, fuck it."[/color] she responded nonchalantly. [color=orangered]"Now a piece of her will always be with me. Can I get this to go?"[/color] And she would be damned if she was going to tell Cyril anything about this. 

	[color=orangered]"...Muffins..."[/color] 


[hider=Translations]
1	=	Thank you very much for the good price on the meat the other day. 
2	=	The meat! 
3	=	Thank you. Times have been hard, and you gave us enough meat to keep our shop open for a month, at cost. 
4	=	Are you okay?
[/hider]