The Vorbarra armsmen in the room, dressed in the same black and silver livery Gavalas wears, exchange looks and then give pointed ones at Lakshmi, for her lack of deference if nothing else -- a bow of the head would have been enough in a military context, but the total lack of it? That's just disrespect.
But the Emperor merely looks at her, heavy brows drawn down. It's not a good first impression, but he's not a man who wastes his time being offended. He has the same kind of raw intensity about him that Piotr has, that single-minded determination that clearly motivates everything he does: win the war. Just win the bloody war. Drive the Cetagandans out, and everything else will follow.
"You may set it down there." He nods at the table, half-covered in papers and plastic flimsies and war maps, and the carved little markers they use for troop movements. He studies her, and doesn't bother hiding the skeptical look at her uniform -- she must have had to have it mended to fit her, because they certainly don't make them in women's sizes. "Lakshmi Bai?"
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But the Emperor merely looks at her, heavy brows drawn down. It's not a good first impression, but he's not a man who wastes his time being offended. He has the same kind of raw intensity about him that Piotr has, that single-minded determination that clearly motivates everything he does: win the war. Just win the bloody war. Drive the Cetagandans out, and everything else will follow.
"You may set it down there." He nods at the table, half-covered in papers and plastic flimsies and war maps, and the carved little markers they use for troop movements. He studies her, and doesn't bother hiding the skeptical look at her uniform -- she must have had to have it mended to fit her, because they certainly don't make them in women's sizes. "Lakshmi Bai?"