It's obvious the uniform strikes some kind of note inside Francis, too; Raju realises that, belatedly. He'd been fascinated as soon as he'd seen it, hadn't he, and then this now. It's a role, Raju understands that, but a role Francis had suggested, and suggested it right away. The growl, the push — Raju doesn't hide the way he's studying Francis, trying to figure him out, not the way he'd hid everything back home. But he doesn't stumble back either, has fallen back into the stance he'd used to stand in without even noticing he'd been doing it. And if a superior officer wants you to move back, they'll tell you. Raju stays where he is.

"Right away sir," he says briskly, reaching up to re-fasten the one button. His movements, he realises as he does it, are a little like his stance, fallen into something else while he wasn't noticing. The way he reaches up, moves his arms and fingers, is only graceful if grace can be assembled one piece at a time: bend the arms pull the button fasten it, three separate precise motions linked stiltedly together instead of one complete motion working toward one end. He'd never noticed that before, that he moves differently.

But he's lingered, noticing. He would have been expected to move back to attention right away before and does it now, late, dropping his arms to his sides and looking straight ahead. But where he wouldn't allow his gaze to rest on any officer giving orders at home that impulse doesn't last here and his gaze focuses again quickly, frowning at Francis to see what else he's going to do.