Maeve leaned against the wall of the dimly-lit cabin, a great distance from where she should be.
Between her and Analdrun was an assortment of furniture; a slim black table and a large, comfortable couch. The hanar rippled, electric blue glowing off it in irritation. It didn't think Maeve could tell, but she was more perceptive than it thought. She averted her eyes to the window that overlooked a sea of people. Slaves. Half drell, half everything else. They moved in straight lines, slowly shuffling towards a light that lead to hard labor and extortionism. The sight had once twisted her gut and pierced her heart, but now Maeve felt little pity for them. All of life was slavery; everyone served something, obeyed something, lived for something. No matter where you were, called free or slave, you would never escape that fact.
The tentacled creature hummed, electric veins lighting up as the sound filled the room in luminescence. "This one's dear girl, would she be so kind as to bring this one the communication device?"
A telephone that resembled the historic 1892 rotary dial phone sat on the desk far from the Hanar's seat. Maeve obeyed, crossing the distance between them and grabbing it up as she did.
Scarlet red sofas, velvet, bursting with softness, surrounded a small, candlelit table. On the sleek black table, Maeve bent to place the pseudo-phone, placing it gently on the table with both hands.
"Thank you, little one." She bristled as his tentacle swept past her to encircle the phone. "This one wonders why does the other not have a seat." It was more command than question, and Maeve obeyed slowly and reluctantly. She still wasn't entirely sure why the Hanar had called her here. Analdrun dialed in a number slowly, the bell on his leftmost tentacle tinkling as he did.
"This one's dear friend..." He began.