Mal followed a young steward to his assigned quarters, anxious to freshen up before the promised feast. Leonardo apparently had spared no expense on the preparations.
The steward stopped at a closed doorway, and actually bowed. He wasn't used to this sort of thing, having tried to cultivate a more "relaxed" atmosphere at the Temple, and of course, the "no holds barred" Kiva.
So he bowed to the young fellow in return, throwing him a Discordian curve ball which produced both a wide-eyed stare and a wide grin as he loped back down the passageway to attend to the other guests.
As he turned again to the open doorway, he noticed that he had been assigned stateroom number 23. Yes, Eris was indeed here, and would indeed protect this vessel from harm.
He doffed his Ceremonial Robes, revealing his infamous loud tropical "shirt of the day", and baggy cargo shorts. He paused, remembering vividly the lovely Ms. Coyle's gown. He tapped his temple to access a channel to the E-Prime.
"Sigismundo! See if you can find my old mauve frock coat, please. Pink shirt, cravat. Oh, and some bloody trousers!
"Yes, tan will be fine, and my Holstein spats. 10 minutes? Cheers!"
He tapped off again, doffed the rest of his clothing, and strode, whistling an old sea shanty, towards the 'fresher.
![[Image: malsig_alt1.png]](http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o108/Shamus_FL/malsig_alt1.png)