When it came time to give the Highwind her nose artwork - a momentous occasion indeed - Captain Highwind locked himself inside his office with a carton of Gabbianis, half a pint of bourbon, and a tattered, leather-bound sketchpad. There he remained for the next five hours, blinds tightly drawn. Smoke curled out from under the door like Ifrit was holding parlay within. For all the huddled engineers outside knew, he was, for that matter.

Eventually the Captain kicked open the door, resplendent in cigarette ash and a healthy miasma of alcohol fumes. In his hands he held a sheaf of drawing papers and a photograph. When he handed the sketches to his team, some of them tittered. A few looked downright shocked.

One of the newer kids, a serious-faced lad from Kalm, was the first to ask.

"Erm ... Captain? I don't mean to, uh, question your decision, but this looks an awful lot like Engineer Sher--"

"It's Lady Luck. Now shut the hell up and get to work, son, b'fore I kick your scrawny ass."

And work they did. When the painting was finished, days and weeks and cartons later, Captain Highwind once again got very, very drunk. On a dare he clambered up the scaffolding to give his winking sky-harlot a kiss. Afterwards he fell off and broke his leg in three places, but the taste of wax and cold metal on his lips made it all worth it.

He never did admit why she looked so much like one of his engineers.