Urquhart gets his own trousers, and adds a plain linen apron like any artisan at a fair would wear.

He walks over to the cooker, melts some butter in a saucepan, shakes in some couscous from a bag, stirs, adds a bit of salt, then pours in water, which hisses and bubbles and then rapidly thickens as the couscous is getting cooked.

He stirs, stirs, and stirs.

"Done."

He turns around and smiles, long blond hair sliding over his bare back.