A Vorrutyer. Olivia herself has no quarrel with any of the family -- beyond what bitterness might remain for her father's legitimization and her grandfather's marriage to her grandmother once the Vorrutyer Empress had passed. They have always been an odd family, if the right hand of the Emperor for centuries. And old Count Pierre Vorrutyer had taken no small number of Cetagandans with him when he finally went. How much that dedication stand with this Vorrutyer remains to be seen.

But that would not stop her from being unfailingly polite to him until he proves one way or the other. The dip of her head is shallow, but respectful. "Very well, Byerly Vorrutyer." She does not, however, introduce herself. Even recovering from a hangover, Olivia figures that any Vorbarr Sultana Vor worth their salt can deduce who the High Vor woman with Count Vorkosigan is, even if she hasn't been in the public eye for ten years. "If it was your intention to fight, perhaps you would do well to appeal to Count Vorkosigan himself and present yourself in short order. We can always use another pair of hands." It's said as neutral as possible, but there's a sharp glint in her eyes.

If there's a moment of weakness, Olivia will strike. They cannot afford missteps, not now, and she'll be damned before she lets herself be the cause of one.