"Commander," Vanahara said shortly, the first words she'd spoken around the group, giving a respectful nod and a short bow. Military protocol was a confusing tangle sometimes, but respect was not. "Vanahara Pike. Ironworker adept. Thank you for this opportunity, sir."

She gave her attention to the others when they spoke, but her eyes inevitably returned to the Commander's armor. It fit him well, and even at this distance she could sense the complicated connections and fittings between each piece. Forget the airship—even the craftsmanship Hayes wore was fascinating. Vana glanced around, but didn't spot any of her fellow Ironworkers—or even fellow Metallics. She didn't know if that was a disappointment or a relief—her classmates didn't seem to like her very much.