Arban had watched the approach of the man... and was faintly shocked when the man grabbed him. There were a number of reasons, just in general, and specific to his situation. Navigators were... mutants, after all. Mutants, and something like Psykers. Undoubtedly, they were necessary, and without them the Imperium would have fall to pieces long ago. But that did not mean that people enjoyed being around them, or touching them. After all, the Creed had very clear directions about mutants. As the man spoke... Arban remembered what he was speaking about. At least on Arban's personal timeline, that had been years ago. And... he didn't like thinking about it. Beneath the scarf, his third eye darted about, reacting to the memory of that... voyage. Slaughter.<br/><br/>And then the Old Soldier point Arban's view to something much more pleasant then the infinite wonder and horror of the Warp. Arban steadily wait for the Archmilitant to disentangle himself from the Navigator, and then extended his hand to the Voidmistress.<br/><br/>"Our... mutual acquaintance has a point. My name Arban Benetek. My services have been retained for the duration of this mission."<br/><br/>He smiled at her.<br/><br/>"Apologies for um..."<br/><br/>He gestured faintly toward her breasts... thought about the implications of the gesture, and reconsidered it, sighing. Remarkably, none of his training had covered how to deal with a woman you didn't known, who knew you had stared at her breasts, and who you needed to keep a working relationship.<br/><br/>"...that. They are very nice, though."<br/><br/>Arban winked, trying to salvage this conversation, before he looked like a complete idiot.