The stewardess could see the signs. This woman wanted her, that much was clear, and Magenta wanted Liz. "I'm only allowed to address customers as Sir or Madam or Miss. It's more respectful, Miss. I'm here to serve you and do your bidding..." She grinned at the inuendo concealed in those words.<br/><br/>The other thing that was obvious was the barely concealed amusement at her name. "Damnit!" She cursed, the moment suddenly ruined. "Go on, ask me have I got three sisters called cyan, yellow and black. And no, I haven't. My parents thought it was a pretty name. It probably would have been if not for fucking colour printers!"<br/><br/>Maggie shook her head. She wasn't going to cry. At least the woman wasn't openly laughing at her the way her classmates had since she was six until she was sixteen, or sniggered at her behind her back as most people had since then. With a little shrug, she stood up. "Sorry, Liz, you didn't deserve that. I better go. I... look, here's my card. Call that number on the ship's cell network and you'll reach me anywhere on board." She paused, holding out the card with her full name and rank, and her ship's cell number on it. "If you want to that is..." She added, and hurried back to the bar.