His face heated in mortified memory of a less expected arrival in this very hall--also of Lord Vorkosigan with honored company in tow--and the unholy tableau they'd surprised with the Escobaran bounty hunters and the gooey debacle of the bug butter. Roic had looked an utter fool in that moment, nearly naked except for a liberal coating of sticky slime. He could still hear Lord Vorkosigan's austere, amused voice, as cutting as a razor-slash across his ears--Armsman Roic, you're out of uniform.

— Winterfair Gifts by Lois McMaster Bujold (1%)