There's a faint look of surprise - and a hint of distaste - on Tayrey's face at the mention of animal fat, because such a thought hadn't even occurred to her, and it's disturbing, to a Company-born spacer for whom eating animals is about as acceptable as cannibalism. Yet she already knows that customs differ, has built up a tolerance to seeing such things on a table. She can be diplomatic.

'Yes. Yes, I am,' she tells the woman, with a grateful smile. 'My people don't eat anything like that.' She moves to put a little of the indicated salad onto her plate.