Dean had gone through the greetings like a man emotionally numb from having to do this for multiple days in a row after the wedding.
At some point, his smile had separated from his soul and continued functioning independently.
It was a very useful yet disturbing skill.
The district governor had been polite. The administrative council had been polite. The head of security had been polite in the way military men were polite when they had a file thicker than their forearm and the instinct to apologize for weather patterns if they inconvenienced royalty.
Dean had accepted the welcome, admired the efficiency of Ylico's arrangements, made one mildly threatening comment about 'light schedules' when someone mentioned an optional research campus visit, and had somehow left the tarmac without causing diplomatic damage.
He deserved the pastry.
Several pastries.
A bakery.
Possibly the entire district's flour, butter, and sugar supply.
