The skin around Diya's eyes tightens, but her smile remains patient. "Perhaps your insistence on your own discomfort is part of your problem," she murmurs with what seems like distant amusement, but it takes a backseat to the impassive wall that is her expression. "We deal in genetics, ah -- what was it? -- Lapis. I'd hardly expect an exotic, let alone one from a race without something so basic as DNA, to understand the vision of the Cetagandan Empire. And need I remind you that we deal in war as well. Stamp your bare little feet all you like. Your small demands hold no water here, as it were."