The docking bay was hardly the most lovely place in Paris. It had been constructed quickly and was a place with dirty warehouse floors, mechanical locks in the ground, dark walls, and all sorts of screeching noises. Of course, moat docking bays were like that. It was am efficient place, though. The maintenance department was proud of it. They deserved to be, though, having constructed it in a mere week out of old scrap metals and science far too advanced for them to understand in a few days.
The diplomat, Robert, did not particularly enjoy spending time in a docking bay, so he quickly but politely bowed in turn to Tala.
"Robert Saneze, a pleasure, madam."