"You sure you're ready, cevvie? They ain't like us. Be polite, but don't let her catch you lying for any reason, they hate having to notice that."
"I have spoken with other races before, remember." Titus laughed, patting the short Santyrian on the head, his confidence an utter act. His mind kept returning to the man he'd seen, the corpse, eyes missing, mouth stitched shut, whispering to a cowering senator in an alley. "Thank you, but I'll be fine."