"Hunt?" His brows draw up a little. "You mean hunt meat?" Not, of course, that that ought to be all that shocking - after all, they're surrounded by Barrayarans, who rip into real dead animals with gusto. And pride. Mark doesn't flinch at the thought of eating non-vat-grown protein - or at least he doesn't flinch hard - but he definitely has his preferences. So it's strange to hear a non-Barrayaran, someone who's accented like a galactic, talking about hunting.

It's a wonder she doesn't get on with them better.