The answer is avoidant as usual, but it doesn't take a genius to tell that his culture's taboos aren't the only thing bothering Sam. At that remark, though, Bel's eyes snap back up to his face.

Last time they'd talked, Sam hadn't seemed to understand why sleeping in random, open locations on a deep-space vessel -- places not designed for safety in case of an emergency -- had seemed so wrong and unsafe to Bel. He'd since resumed sleeping in his cabin, no thanks to the talk they'd had, though Bel had just been grateful he'd found his own reason to change his mind. But this... it has to be just an unfortunate turn of phrase unless the boy's been talking to Ivan; it's not something to take personally, not in that way; Bel knows Sam wouldn't know a Betan from a Cetagandan and they're probably the only one he's ever met. But in a way, that only makes it hit closer to home.

No privacy, no self-respect.... they'll do anything, they don't care.... it's their upbringing, you should see them fall in line when there's a radiation drill.... bunch of soft-bellied activists, don't know how to deal with the real world.... they just shift in the wind with every fad, don't know what they want, what do they expect when they bring up their kids that way.... come on, darlin', don't be frigid, aren't you Betans supposed to make nice?

"This is decontamination, not contamination prevention," Bel says coolly. "They're probably doing the rest of the crew as we speak. Why are you so keen on insisting that nobody else on a spaceship from your distant future could possibly know what they're talking about?"