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"One window shattered, sir. Natter has already sent for an artificer," Harlok, Tentin's cat-like mowril butler told him over a plate of toast and sweetfish. Tentin had insisted Harlok eat at least one meal with him when he'd been gifted the residency almost a decade ago.
"And the dock is ready for General Pakit?" Tentin asked, expecting a visit later that day. "Why the dock? Won't it land on the ground?"
"He'll be coming from space, sir. Something about cooling the hull." Harlok munched a bit of toast.
'Space again,' Tentin thought, annoyed. He grunted and concentrated on his own breakfast.
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