With his choice in the tables, Sheyra takes the fabric cleaner amidst the supplies, taking a cloth with it, along with a soft-end brush that she tests against a palm, leather in texture. She has to lower onto her knees to be the right size for the seating, legs across the aisle, and starts to brush along the top for crumbs, misplaced dirt.

She neither stops or looks at the question, working natural, as if this was simply what she did all the time.

"I'm five inches shorter than other sherin of my rank," she explains. "Which makes me suitable as a cleaner. Those that I share a similarity grow to become twice the height of myself."

There's a moment, before she adds: "Your height would be suitable for cleaning tight spaces. Is this one of your suited professions, on the planet of your kind?"