A laugh rings out behind Byerly, only half-stifled. Oh, this one's Vor, is he? What's up with a bunch of Barrayarans mysteriously turning up here with all the outsiders, anyway? If there's any logic to it, it's opaque to Sonia. She comes up beside him, hiking up her wool skirt to give him a look-over. Yeah, he looks Vor enough -- and curiously unscuffed by ten long, hard years of war. Even the Princess is a little rougher around the edges these days.

Something she's a little grateful for some days, though, because in the heavy clothing borrowed from the hillfolk, she doesn't look particularly Imperial. Her accent isn't nearly thick enough to pass for a hill girl, but hopefully no one's told this one she's a Princess yet. If he's Vor he's all the more likely to make with the too-polite conversation, and that's all Sonia gets from most of the soldiers these days. Besides, he's on the cute side, this one, and seems interesting enough.

"Vor privilege? Only if you've got a title." She wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes. "And even then, it really only matters if you're Vorbarra. We all might as well be hillfolk to the General Count." She raises her eyebrows at the shovel he's leaning on. "If that's the worst you've got to complain about, though, you're getting off easy."