[IC] 🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Retribution Conference Room ---> Hallway Outside

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Anyone who knew Anisa would hardly have been surprised with her harsh scolding of Carla. To be frank, Dorothy was a bit surprised that the alliance assassin didn't seem to be able to read the situation, and understand the dynamics at play. The Alliance was ruthless and cutthroat, expecting skill and talent from their members--but apparently, that no longer applied to people skills, especially in tense situations. However, Dorothy did thank her lucky stars that Genevieve seemed to have quieted down.

Overhearing Atticus attempting to get either a shave or a drink, Dorothy pursed her lips ever so slightly. While she truthfully didn't dislike the preacher--they were frenemies, in every sense of the word--his habits irritated her. Every time he went after alcohol, she saw only her father, and the life she had left behind on Boros. But before she could dwell on that line of thought too much, Anisa pulled her aside, before she had had a moment to leave the conference room.

"...Thank you, Captain," Dorothy replied, her eyes wide. "I'll do my best." She forced a smile, her mind consumed by shock for a moment. It was funny, how much time could change things. When Dorothy joined the Vengeance's crew, Anisa hadn't trusted her. But over time, they had become best friends. And now, after so much tragedy that day, she had been promoted to second in command. Nodding at Anisa as she left the conference room, Dorothy noticed the way Daphne seemed to be dragging her feet.

"Mei-mei, would you like to help me in the medical bay?" Dorothy offered. "I can teach you a few things, if you'd like."

[FantasyChic]

Genevieve Dupoit

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Location: Conference Room -> Outer Hallway

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Gene didn't really know what to do now.

Where would she be most useful? She wanted to talk to Anisa, who was now occupied. She wanted to talk to that dashing man that offered haircuts and shaves, but she needed neither. The only person left was Carla, and she was sure Carla was doing her best to avoid her.

So she waited until the two were in the hallway together when she approached her. "It's been a long time Carla. I see you are doing well for yourself being on an Alliance vessel. How have you been?" The last time they spoke was before the events that led them to this ship. She hadn't expected to find the woman on board, but it wasn't a bad surprise. If anything, it confirmed a few things Gene had always thought about Carla. Now the truth was beginning to come out.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Captains Office (Sealed) - The new Captain of the Retribution stepped from the door over to the desk and had a seat, resting her hands in her lap as she crossed one leg over the other. Her face was blank, not really believing that this was anything worth her time but she would hear him out. After what had happened in the conference room her patience was running thin. She had wanted to discuss other things, such as job assignments and more but after people were focused on what they could get out of the situation and wanting her to divulge information she would only share with her most trusted she felt it was best to not even deal with these Alliance folk anymore. Part of her wanted vengeance, in the truest since of the word against the Alliance. They had burned her planet and taken her family. Now they had taken her childhood friend. Harper was Alliance, or so she thought at this point, so was Carla and Foy - all three could take a walk into the black. She owed them nothing. Jahosafat she wondered just whose side he was on since there was no file on him. That she needed to find out.

As Harper began to speak Anisa cocked a brow, that was not what she was expecting; letting it roll around in her mind for a moment before she spoke. Resting her hands on the desk she leaned forward a bit and locked eyes with the man. "That's one humdinger of a story. So, who are you and why should I believe you?"

"Identity... yes, we may start there." The clean and polished Alliance Pilot reached into his uniform's jacket pocket. A note of caution took him, he darted his eyes up to Anisa to gauge her response at what amounted to a strange man wearing enemy colors shoving a hand into a concealed spot while alone in the room with her. He cracked a smile and held his free hand up, then slowly retracted his other from inside of his jacket. Held within his first two fingers was an ident card. It looked a little rough, as if it had been improperly stored or had seen a ton of use, but it appeared fully readable. "This is big. It's the last bit of who I am that exists in the Alliance. After you're done scanning it, I would appreciate it if you purge the system. If you don't know how, I'll do it. All of the data is clean. Just know that this person stopped being a person a few years ago."

Anisa took the ident card from him and flipped it over in his fingers a few times as she examined it. Slipping into her personal tablet she let it do its thing to pull up the information. Leaning back in her seat she started reading, her face blank as she read. Removing the ident card from the slot when she was finished she handed it back over to him and slide the tablet as well. If he was good enough to cover his tracks this well, she was sure he could do better than she at erasing any trace that she had pulled it up. "Alright Crispin. Why tell me this now? Could have kept up the ruse and exited the ship when we docked, never looking back. Why do you want me to know who you really are?"

"Lieutenant Harper will suffice." an ever-so-unhinged grin flashed for a moment, "Liam to my friends." He bent forward and recovered his ident and the tablet. As he delved into the root programming of the device, he explained. "I really was an Alliance officer. Fairly good one, too. Then lots of things happened. In the War, back at home, I'll spare you the details - Point is: I got stuck someplace very, very bad for three years, and I took the very first plausible opportunity to extricate myself from the situation. The problem was, I 'extricated' myself right back into the Navy." He chuckled for a second or two. This was definitely not the man that was piloting the ship earlier. "I have two more years as Harper before I have the option to re-up or retire my commission. That's two years of looking over my shoulder, praying that no one finds out. If they do, that's a world of difficulty."

He leaned in closer, dropping the volume of his voice a little, "If Harper dies... I'm a non-person again. But at least I'm free. Under the right circumstances, I can even fix my status. Your takeover is my big opportunity, but only if it takes. I use what I know and who I am now to keep this going. I've even got a list. Then we can help each other."

Leaning back in her seat, Anisa drummed her fingers on the desk for a minute. The tapping going staccato on the hard wood. It was a lot to take in, especially considering everything that had happened that day already. Letting out a short breath before pushing her seat back and standing up. "Well, this's something to mull over. I would ask how much I can trust ya but considering what I know about you now, thinking yer placing a lot of trust in me. Then there is this list your talking about. What is all that about. Oh, and then the big question," she said as she stepped around the desk ad leaned back against it looking down at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How does Harper want to die?"

The Pilot Formerly Known As Harper leaned back in his chair as Anisa walked around the desk at an approach. Decreasing space between one another was a time honored method of implying camaraderie, or attempting to intimidate. He steepled his fingers in front of himself again, his eyes glinting a telltale mirth. "Now that is an interesting question, isn't it? Harper could have easily been taken by Reavers on Whitefall. He might have been taken captive by terrible, bloodthirsty Browncoats, left to a fate unknown. Hell, maybe he had a routine shipboard accident." His face betrayed his interrupted train of thought. "Uh, that reminds me... stay away from the foremost lavatory on Deck A. Trust me." Shaking his head, he got back on track. "We have time to hammer out the details. For right now, Lieutenant William Harper is the highest ranking Alliance officer on board the Retribution. He has access to everything except the Captain's private systems (which can be circumvented), and he's probably the only remaining person the personnel will listen to. Well, except for the mercenaries. They'll listen to whomever pays them. Or no one. Hard to say."

"Oh, here's your tablet back. I'd prefer to scrub it with my terminal, but this should be clean enough with a cycle or two of overwrites."

Taking her tablet she nodded and set it down on her desk. "Well that actually brings up something. Jahosafat. He isn't in the files that I can find. He says he is the current ranking officer. So two things I need done is the Captains systems opened and information on this so called Doctor. As far as the two Mercenaries go, I'm half a mind to just jettison them from an air lock," she said as she glanced towards the door. Shaking the thought from her head she reached over and picked the tablet back up, handing it over to him.

"Go ahead, nothing I keep in there the Alliance doesn't already know," she said. She had learned long ago that anything put out in any electronic form was traceable, so she stuck to old fashion methods. Cocking a brow she stopped and looked at him. "Wait, what happened in the outhouse?"

"Yeah, about that... that guy was a jìn jiāo húndàn. He was our Doctor, said something about using unnecessary crew for spare parts... ah, vacuum seal malfunction with the waste reclamation system. It's supposed to be fixed, but I'm running an outside diagnostic from a proper shipyard before I'm setting my nethers anywhere near that toilet. Pulled him inside out. Through his ass. Easier cleanup than you might think."

But back to business, "I'd actually need to poke around the Retribution's systems directly to get any access to the Captain's files. Luckily, this has been classified as a Black Ship, I'm guessing due to our mutual enigma Dr. Jahosafat. The Retribution won't be broadcasting a damned thing about what's going on inside, except on regular intervals to specific people, and only by someone with Captain's access. This is both good and bad. Still, I'd need access to Quinn's office and cabin, see what he has on hardcopy. As for the mercenaries: I have no idea what to think of them. My interactions were not overly pleasant, but the stuffy one looks like he keeps up appearances. I'd prefer the opportunity to learn more."

Anisa nodded as she pushed off the desk. Well, we will take care of that tomorrow. Today has been enough. For now, lets keep this all between us. I trust my crew but there are others on the ship I don't. You are still one of them but we seem to have a mutual understanding for now. I have some others that want to speak with me before we close out for the night as it were. Go meet with Daphne and give her a run down on things you think she should know to pull night duty. She's a quick study and damn gifted," Anisa said as she stepped over towards the door and unsealed it.

"Alright, who's fucking next?" she said, her demeanor turning into the rough exterior she kept on deck at all times, as the door opened and she looked outside.

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"Why my dear lady, I suspect that should be I." Jahosafat was quick to rise and tip his hat to the newly self appointed Captain of the Retribution. Anisa's eyes ran over him before giving a side ways glance towards Harper and letting out a long breath. This was going to be an even more trying day than it already was.

"Riiight.... Have a seat," she said in a flat tone. "Harper, we will talk more later. For now other than what we discussed, keep your part of the crew in line," she added in a firm voice as Jahosafat whisked by her and had a seat promptly as he removed his hat and set it in his lap. He did take such good care of his finery. Anisa had to force herself to keep form rolling her eyes as she closed the door and sealed it once Harper had exited the room.

The Preacher followed Foy up to the "Foyer" and glanced around letting out a long whistle of appreciation. "The Lord surely does work in fucking mysterious ways," he commented to himself before removing his coat and resting it over the arm of one of the free chairs in the room.

"Well, I suspect I will be needin' a bit of both. Cleanliness is next to Godliness but I have to continue to keep the look of a Shepard. So don't fleece me completely. It wouldn't do well for my flock," he said as he took a seat and grinned. "So where do you lay good man? A man of god? An orphan six days of the week? Or just an orphan?" he asked to Foy.

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Hallway

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She noticed Genevieve start talking to the woman who had spoken up first, and moved a little ways away from them so that they could talk to one another. Daphne noticed that several members of the crew had stayed behind, and she figured that they all had business with the Captain. She had learned a while ago that it was best not to ask questions unless things directly affected her, and most of the time things didn't involve her.

She heard her sister come out of the room and call to her. Daphne turned around and listened to what she said. She didn't have much to do, since she wasn't flying the ship and had nothing better to do, helping out in the Med Bay wouldn't be too bad in her opinion. She looked over at her sister and smiled, "Sure, I've got nothing else to do. Lead the way jie jie".

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Hallway Outside ---> Medical Bay

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"Shiny," Dorothy grinned, before leading her dear little sister to the medical bay. There were mostly minor injuries being treated, with the few exceptions. And while Dorothy didn't miss the Alliance itself, she did miss its resources and the likes. With the equipment now at her disposal, everyone's chance of surviving whatever injury they came in with shot up considerably.

Gideon's concussion had already had treatment started for it, but she walked over nonetheless and picked up the scans, motioning for Daphne to come to look at him. "This is it," she nodded, before explaining the various details. She showed Daphne the little details that indicated a concussion, before showing her a reference of a normal, uninjured patient. Of course, she couldn't be all too certain if it was interesting her mei-mei, or boring her instead.

"Mei-mei...A good deal happened today," Dorothy said carefully. "How're you holding up? I know Jackson was your friend...If you want to talk....I'm here."

There was a quiet, unstated end to that sentence. Dorothy hadn't always been there for her sister. She had left her behind on Boros, left her with the alcoholic father and the miserable, pointless existence that Boros provided.

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Foy-er

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"Orphan, my good sir?" asked Foy, half-understanding what the Shepherd was asking him. "The circumstances of my birth, be they not of grand, epic undertaking, hails my personage from a well-to-do line of Gentry. My dear parents, though we have not much in the ways of daily discourse, are vigorously above ground."

Foy prepped his hot lather and readied a tray of sterilized instruments; sipped from a demitasse of rich, black coffee, and amended his previous statement. "Upon further reflection, Preacher, it occurs that a Man of the Cloth, as it were, would have a penchant for parable and metaphor - as I suspect you guilty of presently. If you are asking if I am a churchgoing individual, I should have to admit that my spiritual and social needs are more briskly seen to with alternate method, sir."

"Ah! We are ready. Do sit down. Now, was that a trim as well, or merely a shave?" Foy smiled with just a twinkle of expectation. Regardless of circumstance, and this was no doubt unusual, Foy did have a simple love of his family's ancestral craft. "So, however does a Preacher find himself in the employ of brigands? Meaning your crew or ours, of course."

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Captain's Office -> Bridge

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Harper walked away from the conversation as a man whose meal was interrupted. It was a promising start, and he was more or less confident that this Browncoat Captain wasn't going to kill him immediately. Something about an enigma - people wanted to figure it out before ditching it outright. So long as he wasn't viewed as a variable in some grand equation, he could rest a little easier. Uncertainties tended to make people in charge nervous. Still, he had more to share and a couple of requests to be made, all in the spirit of mutual good faith. For now, he was going to play ball, hopefully suppress an uprising before it starts, and get his freedom back.

Right at this moment, Harper settled into step back to the Bridge. He felt most at ease there with the exception of his own quarters behind a locked door. It was time for a quick check on sensors and diagnostics, maybe a slight course correction to maintain static position around this moon to evade detection from Whitefall and parts nearby. Satisfied that they were still beyond all but the most specific scrutiny (from much closer than the next moon over), he sighed lightly. Per suggestion of this woman, Crowe, his next task was to find the Browncoat pilot and acclimate her to the nuances of piloting a Patrol Boat. Hopefuy not too well, too fast. Handling Alliance craft was one bargaining chip he didn't want to do away with completely. Not until better trust was established.

It hit him - Harper had no idea where this lady pilot might be. He sighed again, this time more audibly. Time to start roaming the ship.

[FantasyChic]

Genevieve Dupoit

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Location: Outer Hallway

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Carla looked over at the woman. She hoped she could slip away without notice, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak to Gene, far from it. She wanted it on her terms though. After all, the last time Carla and Gene talked was quite recently. She never told her what she did and now she came to find out she was serving on an Alliance vessel. She knew Gene wasn't stupid and could put two and two together, based on what she said during their little "meeting". It was better to rip the bandage off quickly.

"I am doing well, all things considered. It is..good to see you. Everything going ok with you?" Gene eyed the woman up and down. She didn't say it out right, but she had her speculations on what Carla was doing. Secrets had a habit of coming out eventually. "I am doing good. Recent events notwithstanding, we could be in a more difficult place with the Reavers on our tail. I just hope my team can play nice. Anisa was serious about jettisoning people off the ship." She gave a weak smile. She wanted to talk more, but Carla quickly interjected. "Yeah, she seems like the type. I have things to do. Come..see me later though, when you find time." With that, she turned on her heel and walked down the hallway.

Gene watched her leave and when she couldn't see her anymore, she waited outside the conference room for her chance to speak to the captain.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Captains Office - It was a little while but eventually the door to the captains office opened and Jahosafat waltzed out. He had a look of feigned joy on his face but he was cordial and tipped his hat to those in the hallway as he made his way back towards the medical bay.

Anisa stepped out and glanced around, one person that had been waiting on her had wandered off. Which was fine with her. The day had been long and she needed some down time. Time to look back and take at least a minute to mourn her childhood friend but that time was not now. The more she learned about the Alliance, the more she was loathing them. She was half temped to just feed any Alliance member to the Reavers and make a hasty exit. Thankfully it was only half tempting and she wasn't following through with it - yet. If one of them pushed the wrong button, that could change.

Seeing Gene she straightened some and motioned for her to go ahead and enter the office. Why gene wanted to speak with her she didn't know. Maybe she didn't. Maybe she was just passing by and had been stopped when the Captains door opened. "Did you need something?" she asked finally. Anisa figured it was because she couldn't get to a client right now since they were running dark. That was something that couldn't be helped right now.

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"Fucking hell man, meant the second one. Granted, don't get me wrong, I have interests in all orphans being a gorham man of the cloth but I was speaking to the realm of god."

Atticus was not sure what to think of the "Dapper Dan" man, he was colorful to say the least. He remembered Camilla telling tales of Jahosafat over the years. He could only imagine that this man was the one she had been speaking about, if it were not for the color of his skin. (And name of course) - Two peas in a very odd pod. He had seen some colorful characters in his life but these two took the cake. He worse a suit with a collar because he was expected to, these two seemed to do so because they wanted to. Who wanted to be that stuffy? Oh well, he wasn't one to judge - least not all the time. He wasn't perfect after all. He had his own sins to deal with.

Shrugging he sat down and got comfortable in the chair. "Present me as if I was meeting my Maker. Let's see what you got," Atticus said with a glint in his eye. It had been a long time sine he had had a good shave and trim, it was long over due. "Just don't make it fully clean. I look like a damned baby without my facial bush," he chuckled.

"Actually, it was Quinn that caused me to change from one team to another. Some say it is better the devil you know but I saw evil that day and I couldn't stand there anymore. Took a chance and it has done well for me. Sinful of course but a set of sins I can live with." Taking a breath Atticus thought back to when he had decked Quinn... That was the turning point.

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Med Bay

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She followed her sister to the Med Bay, and walked up with her to check on Gideon. Sure, to her medical knowledge was useless as she generally wasn't able to do anything about her injuries if something happened in the cockpit. It gave her something to do, and she needed to do something, she just couldn't sit still. The information that appeared on the small screen that Dorothy held made no sense to her, even after she had explained it. Daphne always preferred flying a ship more than anything else, but she wasn't about to tell her sister that she found this boring.

When Dorothy mentioned what had happened before they boarded the Alliance vessel, the memories came running back. She hadn't truly been that close Jackson, she had generally talked to him more than anyone else on Vengeance, including her own sister. However, when Dorothy was quiet and said nothing afterwards, Daphne remembered that her sister had left her alone with their family on Boros. It did make her smile slightly though that Dorothy was there for her now.

"I'm fine, even though we did lose a few people... Right now the only thing I wish is that I wasn't putting my life in the hands of an Alliance pilot. Better hope the guy doesn't crash this thing".

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Foy-er

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"My, that is certainly the colorfully ribald dialogue, coming from a Shepherd, Shepherd." mused Foy, wrapping a hot, damp towel around Atticus's face and neck. To avoid the brunt of a potentially tense situation, he followed up quickly, "Never you worry, Preacher. I take my ancestral occupation with the utmost of stern professionalism. Whereas I might be the sort to shoot someone in the back, while in my chair you are guaranteed the pinnacle of gentlemanly behavior."

Atticus would have easily heard the sound of metal scraping across rough leather in rhythmic motions; a sound commonly associated with the honing of a straight razor. "Of course, there are more contemporary methods of personal grooming, but I find that the archaic remains the solitary path to the perfect shave - requisites include a steady hand and talent that comes from long years' experience. Were it otherwise, my good sir, the Art leaves the action. Circumstances become trite, even boring. And that simply cannot do."

Foy glanced around the room, even perked an ear to ascertain any footsteps coming up the corridor. He sighed, a little let down. Foy was hoping for a bit more company in his parlor, both to get an idea as to the general nature of these people and because the vast majority of these Alliance people were so two-dimensional it was beyond tiring. At least his good friend Jahosafat was on board now. Kept things interesting. Except today, he was a man in mourning. He would have to schedule some sit-down time with the man later today.

"So, straight razor for proper edging, thinning cutters to maintain the robust, craggy splendor on your cheekbones, and ahh.... yes, I do like the shape and line of your locks, my potentially dapper sir. If I may, I should recommend a rakishly diagonal part for your hair and possibly a flame motif for the stubbly portion of your provocative visage?"

"And if I may be so bold, would you suppose your gruff and surly Captain would entertain the possibility of retaining my services? It would appear the entourage is short a gun or two, and a touch of gentlemanly class, besides. Oh, present company emphatically excepted, mind. Ah, well. Towel's done its work, let us begin."

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Medical (eventually)

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Harper's steps carried him from the bridge and down the main corridor. He poked his head into many of the rooms designated as open to the general crew, looking for the Browncoat pilot. Funny how things work out sometimes. He considered his folly, looking for someone in places that ordinary Alliance personnel would be found - these people were by nature outlaws, probably moreso than himself. The thought that these people would stick to regulations was laughable. But it was a method of organization to his search, even if it was foolish. It's not like he didn't have time for it.

His search eventually brought him down the corridor to Medical, where he found, strangely, that he was being mentioned. Harper considered clearing his throat, knocking, something to indicate his presence, but the smallest touch of mischief won out over more sensible options. Without announcing himself, he added to the conversation in play. "A respectable amount of Independent pilots were Alliance trained. Majority, ma'am, if you'll believe it. I assure you, I'm quite proficient."

"Your Captain requested I give you instruction operating Alliance vessels, ma'am. Namely, this patrol boat. It handles differently than a Firefly vessel and has additional features. Whenever you're ready." Harper motioned to the door, removing himself from Daphne's path to the corridor.

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Medical Bay

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Seeing the slight smile on Daphne's face was a relief, to say the least. There were moments when Dorothy was not quite certain as to how to reach out to her sister, how to communicate with her, how to apologize to her, and how to forgive herself above all else for abandoning Daphne. She chuckled slightly, seeing that despite the deaths of that day, Daphne seemed to be functioning--even insulting and teasing the Alliance pilot, Harper.

As Harper entered the medical bay unannounced, Dorothy felt a small pinprick of irritation. After the events earlier that day, with far too many people crowding themselves into the medical bay, she would have much preferred for people to request permission to enter. But at the same time, they were hardly busy, and she was having a conversation with her sister. Her annoyance lacked basis for the most part.

"Go on, mei-mei," Dorothy encouraged. "Get a handle for this old girl. As kuh wu as the Alliance is, the tech's usually beautiful." She would know, after all. It was the Alliance that trained her to be an army doctor, it was the Alliance that gave her the skills she used now to help the Browncoats. Glancing back at Harper, Dorothy figured that as Anisa's new second, she might as well introduce herself. "Dorothy Pender, pleased to meet you. Anything happens to Daphne, and we're gonna have a problem."

[FantasyChic]

Genevieve Dupoit

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Location: Outer Hallway -> Conference Room

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She half expected Anisa to be in one of her moods, but was pleasantly surprised at how calm she was being.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing." She held up a hand, "You are going to say you are fine, and you may be right, but we should talk about what happened. The human mind is a tricky thing and recent events don't help it much. We just lost Camilla and Jackson and, though I hardly knew him and you didn't like him, we lost Quinn too. On top of that, we have the Reavers on our tail, plus your added information about what the Alliance wants to do with them, and it can all be a bit much."

"I know you don't fancy my profession, but I am a member of your crew and I hold you to the highest regard. If you would like to sit down and hash it out, I welcome it. We can do it however you want. You can yell, scream, throw things around. Or we can relax over a drink and chat. Either way, we should make time. I don't say this just because it's my job, but because I care about you and your well-being. You are taking a lot on your shoulders and it's a long road ahead." She let that last sentence rest there as she waited for her Captain's reply.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Captains Office Doorway - Anisa cocked a brow when Gene did not enter the room and decided to air everything right there in the middle of the hallway. She knew the woman was well trained, well she at least suspected she was. Anisa didn't have a clue what actually when into Companion training but she had figured that it would at least involve a bit of tact; for example not airing everything in the middle of the hallway when it was a well known fact that Anisa was a private person. It made Anisa wonder just how much of this was because Gene needed to vent herself. For Anisa losing Camilla was just another body, Quinn dying was vengeance in it's purest form; yet the Captain knew that Camilla and Gene did speak from time to time, maybe they were closer than she had known. Gene was also known for keeping company with the Alliance folk, for all she knew Quinn had been a lover.

"Listen, thanks and all that gorham hell but no. Maybe one day but right now I got a crew to take care of. Last thing any of y'all need is a blubbering pile of weeping emotions of a captain. So go, have some tea, meditate, and Nama-stay out of my way for now," she said in the captains usual blunt tone. Oh well, at least she wasn't yelling. That was a good thing right? Maybe it wasn't. The captain was known for yelling, not to be was out of character for her. Shaking her head she turned and stepped fully into her new] office and shut the door behind her, sealing it before Gene had a chance to respond.

Stepping over to the desk she sat down and looked her and Jackson's things that were dotting the room now. They had managed to box up and transport a fair amount of everyone's things before they took off from Whitefall. Anisa wasn't just going to leave Jackson's life there to rot or be ravaged by Reavers. Seeing his personals laying there she leaned back in her seat and rested her chin on the back of her hand. "Damn it Jackson..."

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"Ahh well the good Lord gave us the rainbow so that we could enjoy all the colors of the world, that includes all the Ma Jung Hwa we can think of," he said giving a slight chuckle. Sitting back in the chair he gave a nod while Foy went on about his profession. The man seemed to truly love what he did.

"Nutin' wrong with sticking with traditional methods. Jesus was a carpenter. There is grace in workin' with ones hands. Mind you the closest thing I do that comes to such is either using my fingers to peruse the bible, playing a good hand of cards or makin' things explode but to each their own," he said as he let Foy do his thing.

Holding steady he looked over at Foy. 'So tell me my good man, what places you on this vessel? You don't look like the type to go in guns a blazin' but then again, appearances can be deceiving. I dare say that this isn't an Alliance uniform I have ever seen. Granted, if that had been the dress code when I was Chaplain in the Alliance, I might not have defected."

[Sigil]

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Foy-er

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An odd question from Atticus, considering his own lack of loquaciousness when given a similar query. "What places me on the decks of the mighty Retribution, you ask? Contract, sir. The obligations involved with putting pen to paper and officially agreeing to terms in exchange for compensation." Foy considered precisely where to begin with the odd Shepherd's cleaning and polishing, before deciding that the towel's preparation had left his face in greater readiness than his hair. He brought out a sleek pair of barber's scissors, complete with adjustable screw and finger rest, and began deftly clearing away excess facial hair in the same manner as a sculptor would shear off clay from a budding masterpiece.

"You see, working for the Alliance (amongst other moneyed entities) is oft a herald to provide unique opportunities to secure additional venues and locales for the expansion of the Family Business." he moved his hands with grace and dexterity, finishing his use of one tool and moving along to the next. "Any new place that is not entirely self-sufficient and contains persons that can afford even the most minuscule of hygienic luxuries will do; even places along the Rim, or locales in mid-terraform bearing technicians or other staff - demands must be met, and most times all one requires is to provide knowledge that such a service exists and is willing to ship for a negotiated price. A capital bit of capitalism, if I do say so myself. And we produce the vast majority of products ourselves, sourced from nearby celestial bodies."

Foy was working fast. The uplifting conversation (mostly about himself, of course), served to motivate and center the man. "Though you are devastatingly astute, Preacher. This is most certainly not Alliance uniform material." He expertly handled his straight razor, carefully carving out curves and whirls along the edge of his facial hair in a wispy, flame pattern. "A gentleman's wardrobe is a source of inestimable pride, when properly cared for and matched with like accessory."

"I am a Gentleman of Fortune, my half-groomed compatriot, and a Gentleman of Fortunes as well, if you take my meaning. But money or diversions aside, I am foremost a Gentleman of Farraday. The Business Aristocracy, with comfortable financial backing and the desire to increase said comfort, said finances, and said backing. As for the "guns blazing" you mentioned, dear sir, one's trained profession need not always be ones ancestral profession. I assure you, there is only one other person aboard this ship you would want coming after you even less."

Foy took a brush to the man's face. He grinned smugly, secure in the knowledge that he had done a masterful job with his facial scaping. Yes, yes. Quite satisfactory. Now, the hair! A light trim and style should suffice; you have very good follicles and it frames your head quite nicely. But I do insist on that rakishly slanted part - at least on the front half of your mane." He brushed off the man's torso and shoulders and took position behind him with pomade and a pair of scissors.

"Now, a lack of fashionable uniform might very well cause someone like myself to inexorably alter loyalties. But a disciplined man of the Cloth like yourself? No, there must be more to that story."

[BlueSky44]

Daphne Pender

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Location: Med Bay

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She didn't notice Harper enter the room until he spoke, and she was perfectly fine with him hearing what she had said before he had entered the room. Truthfully she didn't really care much for the Alliance pilot, and it bugged her that he didn't knock on the door since she and Dorothy were having a conversation, and he decided to just interrupt. Sheesh, she didn't like how rude some of the Alliance personnel could be. Daphne couldn't disagree with what the captain had suggested, her learning more about the ship and all.

She wasn't surprised that Dorothy immediately introduced herself. She knew that her sister was ex-Alliance military and figured that if she thought that she should, that was ok with her. Her sister jumping to protect her in the same sentence is what surprised her. Sure, she was the younger sibling and it made sense for Dorothy to be a little more protective, but it bugged her to think that she did it while she was sitting there and hadn't really gotten to know Harper yet. Daphne was not too happy, and to think that just a few minutes ago, she and Dorothy were having such a nice conversation, and then Harper walked in and now everything fell apart as usual.

She did have to agree with Dorothy on one thing, the Alliance had some pretty good tech, and this ship probably would handle better than the Vengeance did, even though she would rather be flying that ship than an Alliance vessel. She turned to Harper, figuring that she needed to give him an answer instead of standing there caught up in her thoughts all day. She had been wanting to do something besides sit around anyway. "Alright, let's get going than," she said as she headed out towards the hallway.

[FantasyChic]

Genevieve Dupoit

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Location: Outer Hallway -> Rec. Room

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She wanted to scream. She knew Anisa would respond in a similar fashion, but this was no longer a joking matter. It was serious. Three people were dead. Regardless if they deserved it, needed it, or asked for it, they lay dead at her hands. She would be damned if she let Anisa get away so easily and when she shut her out, figuratively and physically, that was the final straw.

"Fine, shut me out. When this comes crashing down I'll be the first to say I told you so. I'll be in the Rec. Room if you need me...Captain." She said it loudly for Anisa to hear her as she stormed off down the hallway. She served on her vessel willingly and considered the crew to be friends and comrades. All she asked for was a few minutes to talk. To settle things down and to figure out the steps moving forward. She didn't want to sleep with her, damn it. That's not all a Companion did and she would be damned if she continued to be judged as such.

She made her way into the Rec. Room, bypassing Alliance crew members who stared at her and she sat down and pulled out a book she took with her. She would at least get some reading done in this down time.

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Medical Bay

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Dorothy nodded as her sister left, not having realized that Daphne didn't want Dorothy's protection. But to Dorothy, it had been a practical matter. With the Alliance on the ship outnumbering the Browncoats two to one, they couldn't afford to let their guard drop. If any one on board attempted to harm her sister, Dorothy'd give them hell. It's what sisters were for.

Stepping away from the door, Dorothy headed back over to work, sorting through the medical files of the crew and those in the infirmary. She couldn't help but wonder when that other doctor would poke his head into the medical bay, but she figured that he wasn't that much of a doctor at the end of the day. After checking and double checking the files, Dorothy sat down at the small desk, and stared at her hands for a moment. Quinn, Camilla, Jackson. All of them had been her friends.

During the first war, Dorothy had known loss. Some of the men and women in her unit never returned home. She had dealt with that baggage before, compartmentalized it, and did her very best as a doctor to prevent further bloodshed. She did her same with the Browncoats--she tended to injuries and to wounds, as best as she could. And her friends had died all the same. Smiling a bit wearily to herself, Dorothy attempted to make herself busy, performing any tasks that she needed to in the medical bay. Anything to distract herself.

[Lady Absinthia]

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Atticus chuckled a bit and nodded. Foy was an interesting person to say the least. The man seemed to have a love for adventure and fine clothing, among other things. When he got to the point of referencing what had brought a preacher to work with Browncoats he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, God knowing it might not be as big a story as you might think. I was alliance. Till I knocked Quinn on his ass and defected," he said the laugh fading away as he became somber in reflection. "He got in the way of me giving last rights... No one gets in the way of me performing Gods work, don't giving a flying fuck who he is. Quinn landed on his ass, I landed with the Vengeance."

For Anisa, that was the straw that broke the camels back. For someone that was supposed to be kind, compassionate, refined. Someone who was supposed to have training with dealing with people: A liaison, a diplomat. Gene was acting as if she had none of these qualities. Maybe Gene was sick, or delusional right then, because whatever Alliance crew she thought she saw looking at her were not there. The Alliance had a skeleton crew and all of them were elsewhere doing their damn job. There was no one there to even look at her, except in her own mind.

Anisa was opinionated and judgemental and she was surely judging Gene right then as she felt the fire rise in her face as she rose from her chair. That was it. Stepping out of the Captains office she went down the corridor. Following the sound of the woman's voice until she found her in the rec room. Anisa stepped in and didn't bother to shut the door. The look in her face was one that few had seen before. Only Jackson and Dorothy had seen Anisa this completely and utterly pissed off. The woman looked neigh on homicidal.

"You take you whoring ass and that slick tongue of your and keep your fucking opinions to your goddamn self!!!" Anisa spat at the top of her lungs. She had lost it and rightfully so. If Gene was going to go against everything she was just because Anisa wanted to bottle things in a bit longer to keep her crew safe, to keep the crew with a Captain, she could go to hell and get the fuck out of her life.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are or who the fuck you think you are talking to but this little arrangement we have is over. I will not deal with some highfalutin over paid call girl putting herself over the Gorham ship. My job is to make sure things function, including myself. I know what it takes to run a vessel you don't. You aren't a doctor, you aren't a gunner, you aren't even a over bearing preacher with good intentions. Just because people don't fawn at your feet around here doesn't mean shit. You will be exiting this vessel as soon as we dock."

Anisa had long had it with Gene's attitude. Going off like she had, causing more problems than she was worth. She had done nothing worth anything since she boarded the ship. Anisa had tried to work with her, get her to see how things had to be in the black but it never got through. These last couple of days had more than shown that she should have never let the woman on the Vengeance. Today showed her that any friendship they had ever had was over with. She had intended to talk to her later, once they were safe but not now. Not ever. They were done.

Her hand resting on her side arm before she drew it and pointed it at Gene. "And if I hear one more word uttered from yer overly injected lips, I will end you," she stated coldly. There was a look in Anisa's eyes that would have told a blind person that she was about to fire anyways. If Gene said anything she would squeeze the trigger. She lad lost her oldest and dearest friend, putting this bitch out of her misery would be nothing.

Atticus looked up as he heard the yelling, it wasn't much to hear it. The rec room was right outside of the Foyer. Taking a breath he motioned for Foy to take a step back. "Jesus Christ..." he said as he got out of the chair and pulled the barber cover off. Stepping into the hallway his eyes widened as he spotted Anisa standing inside the rec room with her side arm drawn and pointed towards Gene.

[Sigil]

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Medical -> Bridge

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"William Harper, Lieutenant." he answered Dorothy's polite-but-not-quite introduction. "And trust me ma'am, on this vessel? I'm not the one you have to worry about." He flashed a quick smile. "She's in good hands, Dorothy. More or less. We should probably speak later, when you have time, ma'am." This entire situation should have been amazingly stressful for the man, as it was for everyone else, apparently, but for some strange reason, Harper was fully in good spirits. Chipper, even. Minor annoyances of the new "guests" of the Retribution aside, this was turning out to be a very interesting week indeed. Thinking about it, at least in that moment - the worst that could happen to him was that he'd get himself killed. It was preferable to going back to the Halo Mining Colony, or as he preferred to call it, "That Fucking Rock".

Taking an objective look at his own psyche in comparison to the last time he wore an Alliance uniform, Harper began to honestly wonder if the last three years had compromised his sanity. At least somewhat. It was a rather swift reversal of mood; such a thing was not within his character. It didn't used to be, anyway. Maybe he should schedule some quality couch time with a more or less decent head shrinker, which (depending upon how much he chose to disclose) he may or may not have to aerate mercilessly when sessions were over. Yes, that's the kind of thought a sane man would have. Excellent! One step closer to resolving his personal issues. Smiling still, if ever so slightly, He gave the Doctor a quick nod and returned to the hallway.

He snapped himself to the side, allowing Daphne's unrestricted departure from Medical, and briskly followed her up to the Bridge. Upon reaching that hallowed destination, Harper motioned to the Pilot's Chair, and took the secondary position for himself. "For right now, you should just familiarize yourself with the control placement. Some controls are a little more ergonomic than others. This ship technically can be piloted by one person, but secondary systems are better handled by a crew in conjunction with moving space around this girl. Your Firefly, for instance - everything can be accessed from a roomier console. But we've got a hell of a bigger sensor suite in here, internal and external both."

Harper let the newer pilot get a good eyeful, if it was her desire to do so. Otherwise, he kept his voice low and even, continuing his overview of differences between the larger vessel and her more familiar transport ship. "I believe that your Captain wanted me to, in this tutorial, briefly discuss things you should know about this ship now that we're going into our 'night shift'. Today, it's simple. We're on minimum power. Why everything's a little dim. I have the sensors set to passive scans only, with the exception of Proximity Alarms. If we get swept by a long-range, an alarm will go off. He get a weapon or a sensor lock, alarm. Basically, if anything occurs out of place, everyone on the Bridge is going to know, the Captain will know, and..." Harper reached across the main console, removing a small electronic device he then clipped to the front of his uniform. "And now I will know. You can set this for a shipwide alert, but this will suffice. Proximity alarm is the main one. This goes off, we have a fair amount of time to hoof it or prepare to fight."

"Do you have any questions for me?" Yeah, it was an odd week. Might as well embrace it.

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Foy-er -> Hallway just beyond

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Leaving an artist in the middle of creating art seemed frightfully impolite to the Mercenary Barber. The vision of a head of hair only half cut? It irked him significantly. Foy could almost forgive the indiscretion, almost, considering the overabundance of sound coming from beyond the door to his parlor, in the hallway just nearby. The Shepherd had stood up in the middle of receiving a quality haircut and wandered toward the source of the disturbance, stopped, and began muttering something about Jesus. Foy was displeased.

The dapper man sighed and set down his scissors, then twirled the tips of his well groomed moustache as he strode the few, tiny steps necessary to put him just behind the man, but with a clear view of the scene unfolding and possible execution about to take place. "My, but isn't this a fine How-Do-You-Do? I say, Leviticus," he started, obviously referring to the priest by one of his Bible's divisions, "That Lady-Captain is quite the ravishingly fiery one, is she not? Your crew, sir, most assuredly provides a stimulating atmosphere within which one may ply one's trade."

A flash of creative inspiration came over the Farraday native. "Ah, Captain Crowe? Now, don't do anything as rash as taking your eyes off of your intended, madame. It would lead to an unsporting turn, don't you know? I merely wish to relate that, upon seeing your beauteous, sylvan features and sharp cheekbones, not to mention that you are positively fetching whilst flushed and vibrant with rage, I should adore getting you in my chair, you see."

He was only partially obscured by Atticus, but that part contained a hand that seemed poised to take some manner of action if called upon to do so. Not that he intended to immediately, but while obviously foppish, Foy Coiffeur was no fool. He didn't know this woman, she was pissed, and she had a firearm pointed and at the ready. He would have precious little time to defend himself if she chose another target. "I do believe that you would look absolutely seraphic with a pixie cut, possibly some highlights? Hmm? Think about it, get back with me when you've a moment."

[Morose]

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Dorothy Pender

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Location: Medical Bay ----> Down the Hallway, Nearing the Rec Room

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With the door to the medical bay open, the sounds of screams drifted in from the hallway. Dorothy paused in her work, setting the paperwork down, as her hand automatically went for her sidearm. She wasn't naive about the situation they were in--the Alliance outnumbered them, and she wouldn't put it past any of these gorrham assholes to try something. Running out of the medical bay and down the hallway, the sound of screams became a bit easier to hear.

She paused, her eyes widening for a moment. No one was in bodily danger--yet. Besides Jackson and herself, very few people had heard the Captain lose it so completely and utterly. From what she could tell, the yelling was directed at Gene. And of course, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. Odds were, the kid had overstepped her boundaries--again--and done something to piss off the Captain. She knew that Gene had good intentions, just a lack of table manners lately it seemed.

Dorothy made her way past the galley, the words easier to hear the closer she got to the sound of the ruckus. Her face paled as she heard Anisa threaten to kill Gene if she uttered another word, and for a moment, she wondered as to whether or not it would be better to keep out of this...But her thoughts were cut off, as she heard a voice she didn't quite recognize...likely one of the Alliance members...talking about...haircuts?!

Finally reaching the portion of the hallway where she could view her friend, Dorothy had to stop herself from protesting. She had been named the Captain's second--and with the power dynamic on the vessel, they'd need a united front. As much as she personally didn't want the Captain to do anything rash, she knew she'd have to stand by whatever decision Anisa made. And with the look in the Captain's eyes, she knew that Anisa meant what she said.

All she could do was hope, offering a silent prayer--the first she had made in years--that Genevieve wouldn't do anything stupid and get herself killed. She got that Gene was flexible, but really, did she have to put her foot in her mouth all the time lately?