It's late one night on the Nautilus, the walls echoe and groan with the metallic sounds of a ship of such enormous size cutting through waves at top speed. A few crew member patrol up and down, standing guard at Nemo's door alone.

Clad in face paint and trenchcoat, Skinner whistles a tune as he strolls by the guards, whom he's become well acquainted with through his antics. They glare. "Ello' lads, mind if I pop in and check on the ol' captain?" They glare again, once silently reaching for a scimitar. Skinner puts his gloved hands up and sighs. "Alroight' alroight, I'll back off, touchy touchy." He snickers.