He'd met and spoken with figures of authority before. Kings, princes, captains and tavern owners all, he'd spoken with, even laughed or cried with. Each one however, had always been an individual and as such, each one had to be handled differently.

Now is nothing new from that.

Straightening his little red Starfleet shirt and the blue knife Bee had gifted ot him at his side, the three foot tall thing gives a knock on the door. Once he finds it -- he could be half-into the room already and not yet be aware of it. Still, manners dictate what manners will. This is a leader, so Renne prepares to be as polite as he knows how to be.

"Hell-loww?"