[whether it's her determination to not make any more enemies among her fellow prisoners before the end of the day, or the fact that so far, PM is the only person she's met, not counting Gaunt or Cain, who's managed to address her respectfully on the first go (or so she imagines), Felicia isn't sure. But as she's eying that stubby little hand, something makes her reach out and grasp it with her own.]
[her handshake is firm and practiced, and she withdraws her hand as soon as permitted by good manners.]
It is nice to meet you, Peregrine Mendicant.
...This prison has a postal service? [half to herself:] Ciaphas didn't mention that. I really must get ahold of that report of his once these heretek rubbish bins stop prodding me around all day.