"Shut up," Miles hisses, jabbing Ivan sharply in the ribs with his elbow. He's just identified one of the patrons not too far from them as a visiting Cetagandan cultural attache, and if the flowy, utterly boring music and slow, lingering shots weren't already a dead giveaway, that alone should probably be a huge tipoff that this isn't a Betan film, it's Cetagandan.

God help them.

"We've made a huge mistake," he whispers, staring at the flowery (literally) scene unfolding on the screen in front of them.