Tar studies the woman up close. Her coat is cut from a fine offworld weave, too clean in the stitching for Naxul, though dust has settled into the seams. Her jewelry is expensive, cracked at the clasp, and worn like it has seen a hard trip here.
Her blue skin carries the tired sheen of a traveler pushed too long through bad air. The accent when she speaks is far from local, clipped and polished, with wealth behind every careful syllable.
Osoablae
You noticed that quickly. Yes, I am not from here. I usually do better than this.
The service bot hovers between them, amber light pulsing, waiting for its fee like a patient insect.
Osoablae
If you can clear this little debt, I can stand without negotiating with a cleaner unit.
She steadies one hand on the vending arch and looks up at Tar, embarrassed but alert, clearly hoping he asks the right question next.
✓ Quest Accepted
Clear the service bot's fee