Slowly strolling through the scene of the unobserved commotion, he could find no further hints of it.  That unnerved him.

Additionally, that gauche little man in the turban was doing his best to discretely follow him.  How delicious. Was he going to ask for a suit?  The thought brought a wicked smile to his lips, as he confidently strode down the stairs, flicked his wand, and vanished the parasol, before putting it away again.

Closing in on the door to his cabin, the man in the turban was still shadowing him from a discrete distance.

'Is he [i]really[/i] going to waste time watching little old me?' he muttered to himself.  'Well.. Better give the man his money's worth.  Assuming he likes to see a sexy tailor work that is, darling....'

Abruptly, he closed the door, then locked it.

Working without supplies was "Theoretically doable" but would require a LOT of time and effort. There was no shortage of moisture in the air, and it was quite stuffy down here in the dreary 'below decks.'  While hardly [i]'ideal'[/i], much like he had done with the card, it would be sufficient to simulate cotton or linen.  It would just take hours, or perhaps days to finish the project.  Given so precious little time before that little dove would fly the coop when they landed at he next port, he knew she needed a better disguise than those provincial rags she had on. Unless she was aiming to suggest herself a school mistress, or a new advent to a convent, there was no way her cover fit the costume-- and neither of those bring retainers.

No, it would take something much nicer.

Ember popped his neck, then limbered up his arms, before once more extracting his wand, and setting to work...