As it often is in preparation for high-profile visitors and Imperial dignitaries, the floor of the Inquisitor's hanger deck has been meticulously cleared and cleaned. Organized into formations, a number of squadrons of stormtroopers from two white masses in the bay with a small corridor of empty space between them. "Noted," the Commander inclines his head slightly. He hadn't met anyone that important that didn't seem fond of the ego-boosting formation of soldiers, but he's more than content to do away with such ostentatious displays if they aren't wanted. "If you'll follow me..."