Vladimir looks down the table at Ranger, and you can almost feel the room’s temperature suddenly drop a dozen degrees. He holds that long, piercing look for ten seconds or more, then lets a faint and oh-so-supercilious smile twist his lips. "If you say so," he says mildly, and Ranger goes red then white, like he’s been accused of hoopfragging devil rats. But old Vladimir doesn’t care, he just goes on, "To reiterate, I believe that outright war with the Ancients would be counterproductive to our best interests." He looks around the table, as if soliciting comments. Nobody seems to have any they want to utter at the moment—except for Ranger, of course, who’s saying it all with his eyes.