Foy Coiffeur
Location: Newhope Docks (Prometheus, Galley/Lounge)
Skills: N/A
The quiet. Despite the propensity of the man to mar the tranquility of an occasion with long, flowery speeches where a simple three word response would have sufficed, Foy did enjoy a meal every now and again with minimal distraction. It centered him, almost as much as brisk frontier dancing or putting his hands to the sharpened tools of his ancestral occupation. Even the most verbally affluent must pause to take a breath. Being one of the most affluent and the most verbose people on the Rim or Border (likely combined on the latter point) he knew this as well as anyone. Foy considered this minor moment of average dining as a necessary ritual to enhance his gentlemanly calm. Moderate quality food, okay surroundings, interesting company. No distractions.
Okay, maybe one distraction. No, not Harper. The man seemed to be much less welcoming of company than usual, more in need of quiet than himself. Private man, that one. This distraction came in the form of their Captain, Anisa. The woman sauntered in wearing a silk evening robe and house slippers, a manner described by many in polite society as "Not Dressed To Receive Visitors'. One did not ordinarily allow themselves to be seen, even within the confines of their own home, in such a way. At least upon Foy's native home within the only truly civilized portions of the fabulous and dapper moon of Farraday. Quiet time or not, Foy felt an immediate and insatiable need to comment.
"Why Captain Crowe, as I live and breathe. Truly, you are a breath of early morning air; a piece of the small hours of the day right here in the larger hours of the evening. At least one may suppose by the way in which you casually stride about your admirable vessel in a state of social undress." Foy gave a charming smile and continued his thought,"I must acknowledge a sense of temerity that exceeds even my own, Captain, else a sense of differing cultural norms. I personally would not have the courage to do so outside of the confines of my own cabin, though upon the more rugged yet unmistakably feminine, persons such as yourself, it is positively endearing."
William Harper
Location: Newhope Docks (Prometheus, Galley/Lounge)
Skills: N/A
Meanwhile, Harper was content to sit and eat, forcing himself to slow down and remember the niceties of simple table manners. It was all coming back to him, albeit with a hint of difficulty. In the extremely short span of time that he was piloting the I.A.V. Retribution, he had to maintain a role, part of which meant doing exactly that in front of others. Being military, certain things could slide. The idea was to insert the food as readily as one could and return to duties ASAP. Being an officer, there was a certain amount of emphasis on setting an example for the enlisted crew. Harper took his meals in his quarters as often as possible because of this. Still, rejoining the rest of society was important too. Details like that might tip his hand and allow others to catch a glimpse of some new puzzle piece about himself, and he wasn't too keen on that idea.
His practice at being human was stymied momentarily by the arrival of someone to the galley. A flash of silk caught the corner of his eye. Nothing moves with a person like silk, in his estimation. Both flowing and form fitting, depending upon need, catching the light as only silk can. He was fond of the fabric, though it would be some time before he would feel comfortable wearing something made of the rich, smooth cloth.
It occurred to Harper that he had stopped eating altogether. There was a nice, tender morsel of something suspended by chopsticks halfway from the takeaway box to his face, but he had fully ceased movement, and was unsure as to why. Then it hit him: This was the Captain, wearing a single layer of fine silk and slippers. No makeup, no richly styled hair. It was Anisa being comfortable, and while he hadn't known any of these people for an appreciable length of time, it was new to him. Harper had to admit, comfort looked good on the woman. Very good. It drew his attention in the same way that her evening dress and heels from earlier may have drawn the attention of others. When Harper realized that he was staring, he immediately shifted his eyes down to his food and shoved the bite into his mouth.
Three years, though. Over three years since he had seen a woman dressed like that. He was being unprofessional right then. An able Lieutenant, or whatever the hell he was supposed to be right then, shouldn't place that kind of notice on his Captain. She was just getting comfortable on board her new ship, period. And Harper wasn't being himself, entertaining the notion in the first place. It was all a byproduct of the last few years of his life. Right? Chemically no different than consuming large amounts of chocolate. As per usual, this wasn't an issue that could be solved with computers, engineering, or a sure hand with a console, so he was overthinking it. That had to be it. Had to be. Three years. And was it just him, or did she smell faintly of flowers?
It also didn't escape his notice that she walked right past them to look through he supplies in the kitchen area even though he had set her food up for her. Was Anisa playing at something, or did she have a specific item she was looking for in the galley? No matter. The proper thing to do would be to report to her, and let her come to her own decision.
After Foy rattled off whatever if was that Foy rattled, which sounded vaguely like a compliment and just a little like classist arrogance, Harper cleared his throat and respectfully addressed Anisa, "Ah, Ma'am? I have you set up over here. Please let me know if I can get you anything else." Yeah, he needed that drink. And some time to clear his head later.
