In another part of the ship Robert Prower-Graves was slipping into his dress uniform. The old Black tunic and trousers fit him like a glove, with the golden braid glinting dully under the light as he donned the black visor cap of his uniform. He'd seen the bill for the dance, certainly, but there was no way in hell that he was going to wear those stupid costumes, with their nadger-restrictive trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, and then nodded to himself.<br/><br/>(http://www.melitomnes.org/resources/07._malta-_ww2/Navy/Buttons/ww2%20british%20navy%20uniform2.jpg?timestamp=1345056179756)