[Yuan isn't sure if 'Commanders' applies to him or not; he doesn't relax, opting to remain precisely where he is until the Consul has turned to go, and the Tethe'allan regiments have fallen into cheerful disarray.]

[And even then, all he does is turn his gaze to Kratos, questioning. He's expecting the paperwork. There always will be some. The Consul has handily answered one of Yuan's questions -- she's Kratos's elder sister, and the thought of Kratos subject to anyone like that is utterly bemusing.]

[His thoughts are a disorganized jumble. Yuan summons them into a semblance of order, and raises an eyebrow at Kratos.]

We're in your hands, Commander Aurion.

[There's no hint of the scorn the title had from him three days ago. It's dry, but genuine.]