<strong>Who:</strong>William Samuel McGowin<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Mr. Stuert's office<br/><strong>With:</strong>Mr. Stuert<br/><strong>When:</strong>Day 1<br/><strong>What:</strong>Reporting for duties<br/><hr/><br/>The Scotsman felt ridiculous in the short, short trouser.  He felt like he was smuggling his family's jewels.  The "little prize", as Mr. Stuert called him, stood in the kitchen.  His legs exposed but his torso still bore his jacket and other articles of clothing.<strong>"This is right off it..."</strong>He muttered to himself.  His regular trousers hung on his arm.<strong>"Ahh, Fuck it."</strong>He set his trousers down and began to take off his jacket, vest, shirt and tie.  He stood out of the way of the kitchen staff who was watching the man.<strong>"Ah, go on mind your own buisness."</strong>A few choice word came muttered out of his mouth in his native language.