“Do fic o'emalehek cea y deleo or kn'iyau,” the Rake lied, with a sideways nod at Mallea. I’ve rescued this woman from slavery.

“Buh Do ohk nie a getaway, ji kn'iyol becansan sei ordeket," he added, with an audible sigh. While I was making a getaway, the slavers damaged my ship.

“Qaon tualin bo dan,” purred the Twi’lek, with a hint of sarcasm that even Mallea's ignorant ears might catch. How noble of you.

“Uh huh,” the Rake agreed.

Something clattered down in front of Mallea: a plate of food and cutlery. With his pinky finger, the Rake nudged the cutlery until it touched Mallea’s hands.