Sinjir's pretty sure he'll have the chance to snoop at a later date.

"In fact," says Sinjir, dryly, "that is something they trained us to do quite well, at the Imperial Academy." He settles into an at-ease posture, chin lifted, discarding the scruffy-rogue attitude and settling into old military-trained posture like another skin. Of course, the decidedly not Imperial-standard beard and vague shagginess remains.

His eyes flick up to Ba'al, who has a couple of centimeters of height on Sinjir. "I assume you'd still like my witticisms."