Dumas blushed when Mari complimented his appearance.  Flustered, he tried to think of some witty comment that would explain his more formal attire while simultaneously dismissing  its importance.  Chester could have cracked a joke without blinking.  Dumas, however, was already floundering.  He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head a hundred times, and even practiced it with DEE -- unfortunately, he’d barely gotten started and Mari was already deviating from the script.  “Thanks,” Dumas finally managed, pushing the word out of his throat as if he was rolling a boulder uphill.  “You look nice too.”<br/><br/>She did look nice.  And yet, not quite as nice as usual.  Studying Mari, Dumas noticed that her posture was slightly askew.  Years of being a soldier had taught Dumas how to pick up on tiny clues in body language -- anything that could help him discover weakness in an opponent.  So he quickly realized that the hostess was resting almost all of her weight on one leg.  Dumas frowned as concern for Mari’s immediate welfare temporarily replaced more long term worries.  “What happened to your leg?” he demanded bluntly, sounding considerably more like his usual self.  “You should be in bed resting, not walking around.”<br/><br/>This was coming from someone who never called in sick, and who took exactly two days of vacation at the beginning of every November.  But, as usual, Dumas didn’t see the irony.