The boy's hardly a prole, Piotr can tell that much at a glance. Not as hardened as the military Vor, but then, few were after a decade of war. He could probably pass for high Vor, though. Piotr's eyes crinkle in some distant echo of amusement and he lets out huff of breath through his nose.

"You didn't. If I'd wanted to see you immediately, I assure you, you'd have come and gone already." Piotr looks at Arthur with a keen eye, the look of a man who's spent over a decade sizing up personnel and making choices his and everyone else's lives depend on -- not a practice with much margin for error. "You're not a prole, are you?"