Miles observes that no one else here seems to be able to read the loudly flashing signage in Ivan's manner and posture. That's convenient.
"Eventually," says Vorob'yev, signalling two of his guards to accompany the luggage as the first Cetagandan bears it away. "After some delays, if things run true to form. Did you gentlemen have a good trip?"
"Entirely uneventful," Miles says swiftly, heading off any possible attempt by Ivan to interject extraneous truths into the conversation. "Until we got here. Is this a usual docking port for Barrayaran visitors, or were we redirected for some other reason?"
The remaining Cetagandan produces no detectable response to this question, and Miles is certainly detecting as hard as he can. Hmm. Inconclusive.
"Sending us through the service entrance is just a little game the Cetagandans play with us, to reaffirm our status," says Vorob'yev with a thin smile. "You are correct, it is a studied insult, designed to distract our minds. I stopped allowing it to distract me some years ago, and I recommend you do the same."
No response from the Cetagandan to this frank speech, either. Miles conceives of the hypothesis that these expressionless fellows are meant to act and be treated like mobile statuary, since that is approximately how Vorob'yev seems to think of the man and he certainly isn't offering any evidence to the contrary - in which case, a reaction would be very telling, but the absence of one is virtually meaningless.
"Thank you, sir. I'll take your advice," he says. "Uh... were you delayed too? We were. They cleared us to dock once and then sent us back out to cool."
"The runaround today seems particularly ornate. Consider yourselves honoured, my lords," says Vorob'yev. He turns to lead them out of the freight bay with a smooth, "Come this way, please."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-07-09 03:55 pm (UTC)"Eventually," says Vorob'yev, signalling two of his guards to accompany the luggage as the first Cetagandan bears it away. "After some delays, if things run true to form. Did you gentlemen have a good trip?"
"Entirely uneventful," Miles says swiftly, heading off any possible attempt by Ivan to interject extraneous truths into the conversation. "Until we got here. Is this a usual docking port for Barrayaran visitors, or were we redirected for some other reason?"
The remaining Cetagandan produces no detectable response to this question, and Miles is certainly detecting as hard as he can. Hmm. Inconclusive.
"Sending us through the service entrance is just a little game the Cetagandans play with us, to reaffirm our status," says Vorob'yev with a thin smile. "You are correct, it is a studied insult, designed to distract our minds. I stopped allowing it to distract me some years ago, and I recommend you do the same."
No response from the Cetagandan to this frank speech, either. Miles conceives of the hypothesis that these expressionless fellows are meant to act and be treated like mobile statuary, since that is approximately how Vorob'yev seems to think of the man and he certainly isn't offering any evidence to the contrary - in which case, a reaction would be very telling, but the absence of one is virtually meaningless.
"Thank you, sir. I'll take your advice," he says. "Uh... were you delayed too? We were. They cleared us to dock once and then sent us back out to cool."
"The runaround today seems particularly ornate. Consider yourselves honoured, my lords," says Vorob'yev. He turns to lead them out of the freight bay with a smooth, "Come this way, please."