"You've been busy, I see," she comments as she tugs out the chair opposite, settling into it with tired grace. "And look no worse for wear from the trip. I take it yours was not a group that engaged the Emperor directly?"

Gebo curls up beneath the table, while the Riolu prefers to stand (for now). She's a little twitchy however, uncomfortable in her own fur. Her mistress is not the only one due to evolve, and until it arrives, she's stuck with the feeling of an itch she cannot scratch, no matter how far she reaches.