<A nothlit?> Efaen repeats, her thoughts wavering as she takes in this new information. On one hand it indicates that Serid is likely of a military background; on the other hand, Efaen views nothlits as practically a form of vecol: handicapped creatures that are to be pitied, but avoided. An opinion that has only been reinforced by Terenia's multiple nothlitisms and resulting lack of stability.
Regardless of her qualms, she does straighten her back slightly, tail arched in a dignified fashion. If he is - or was - military, then who is to say what his connections may be?
<I am certain that your current circumstances, while pitiable, were brought about with honor,> she says, almost sounding hopeful. <You are not familiar to me; I take it that you did not arrive on Prince Ossanlin's vessel?>
"Yeah," Terenia says grimly, patting the Dracon at her side. "We will be. See you in a bit."
<<Ready?>> she asks Mike, turning away from the pool and propelling his body towards the hatch. She takes care to order the ship to forbid re-entry to anyone but Mike and descends the ramp.
<<This has been one hell of a day,>> she comments blithely, pausing to make sure that the hatch closes behind her and the proper security systems are activated.