[Yuan does see that, too, if only because he's predisposed to keep his eye out for the quieter markers of disgust just as well as the loud ones.]

[It's ominous, for his time here. But the generals, the officials... those seem more kindly disposed. Yuan can't predict how that will go. It's... more hopeful than it could be.]

[Yuan might be about to say something. Nike cuts him off, and he finds he's exceptionally grateful for that. He lets out a breath of relief, and nods, following Kratos's suit save for the submersion. He doesn't need it right now. His hair is already damp enough, and getting out and away from the king is the priority. So he gets up, follows Kratos's order of operations -- towel, thank the spirits, then a bow and a murmured acknowledgment, and he turns his gaze on Nike. On her face. Very emphatically on her face.]