"With all due respect, councilwoman, grief is what separates us from the beasts n' the bastards." And now a blatant offer to buy her verdict on the murder of one of the most influential people on the planet-- putting aside the fact that Lord Armitage would take her other eye for such crude laziness, there was the sheer matter of pride to consider! She didn't get to where she was by short-sighted greed. If the entire council was as scared shiteless as ZBD_ZEN was, this was going to be a bigger mess than feared.  "... The Dynasty will gladly lend its aid to the Factory-Cathedral in whatever capacity I am able, once this mess has been sorted. I have as much disdain for half-measures as my Lord does, efficiency or not."

In much nicer words: I see what you did there, and neither I nor the Rogue Trader are for sale.

"Now, by your leave." Credit where it was due, Ramona managed a respectful bow to the tech-priest she had very little respect remaining for. "My... associate and I are nowhere near finished, I fear."

She turned, moving to stand a respectful distance from the two Astartes as they conversed, hands back in her coat pockets as she watched and listened. Associate seemed as good a word as any; she had to roll with the punches as they came, and a tech-marine could get her results she was incapable of herself. And the lad seemed affable enough, now that they weren't poring over a steaming corpse together. 

This damned old tech seemed the crux of the entire matter. Ramona had connections in the Factory-Cathedral, gearheads that thrived on this sort of thing, it was time to come calling on old favors...