Piotr's the sort of man who can abruptly drop his respect for personal space, and he does so now, taking hold of one of Byerly's wrists. Softer and paler than the hands of any Imperial Security officer he's ever met. And the man's flippant, long-suffering tone does not endear him to Piotr. Rather, the General Count is considering the merits of making an example of this clown, though he suspects his wife may have some objections.

"Nerve disruptors," Piotr repeats dryly, and doesn't acknowledge the wineglass part beyond a withering look that slaughter an entire garden. "I wasn't aware that Captain Vorvolk had added galactic weaponry to Imperial Security's limited arms."

Spy, perhaps, he's starting to buy -- but not for their side.