A glint of something precious sparkled from within the envelope, and, in startled surprise, Madseu're closed it again and looked about to see if the contents of the envelope had been seen by anyone else. Satisfied that no one here knew what he had in his posession, he placed the envelope carefully in his shirt under his apron, in a hidden pocket.
"Sancarl," he said then, motioning to a cook who was working busily nearby, "come here, please."
Sancarl looked up from the funnel into which he was measuring ingredients to be cooked in one of the miriad of convection heating machines. "yes, Mr. Disvone'ray?" he answered respectfully, stepping toward Madseu're.
"Sancarl, do you think you can take over for me without any bungling?" Madseu're asked his Chief Assistant.
"Well, sure, I..." he answered, but was cut off as Madseu're continued.
"This an important occasion, our farewell banquet for the Big L..."
"Surely, but where..."
"I have some pressing business I need to take care of before the meal starts, and I'd like to go to my quarters to change out of these clothes and into my suit before i can take my seat in the dining hall with the others."
Madeu're pointed his finger, reminding Sancarl, "Now, remember, some of these robots are getting old, and tend to become a bit cantankerous..."
Here a smile crackled across Sancarl's face as he laughed, "Some of us who aren't robots are getting old and cranky too!"
"Yes," Madseu're responded, his finger returning to its habitual curl of his moustache, " but remember what the philosopher Sal'maan Azamoff T'flaim has said-
Grease for his joints he requires;
When man does the same,
Coin to grease his palms he desires!"
"It best be so." Madseu're said, and was about to continue to give instructions to the assisant, but he was far too eager to inspect the gift from the Big L closer, so instead he nodded and turned to leave. "carry on."