That very moment, a deck below and half-a-ship to the aft, Cazas cocks a saucy hip to the side, watching the brig's seamless door stretch open. The room beyond is oddly truncated with the cell closed, a six-paces-wide control strip all that's left of the 20-paces-wide space. She saunters in, tilting her head to the side and snapping her tail back and forth as she examines the draenei prisoner with sharp, calculating interest.

Her voice is light as a cloud, at odds with the malice behind her smile as she says, "How fortunate are you, lovely blue thing! Here I am with your dinner, compliments of my darling captain. It's still luke-warm."