“Literal dolls?” Cassian asked, bemused. It was a funny point of intersection between their otherwise disparate lives: he’d started down this road by doing heists, too. “What, like, to sell on the children’s toy black market? Although,” musing, “I guess if you get enough rich panicked Coreside parents who’d do anything to buy the latest sold-out model…”

Every time the door slid open and the bot checked on them to make sure they didn’t need any refills, he went quiet, busied himself with another sip of his drink, and waited until it left again. Walls had ears.

“Is there ever anything for you to do if you’re out on the outer rim, or is that just a dead zone in terms of clientele?” It was real curiosity asking. It wasn’t like the dusty scrappy people out there could afford Inara’s usual level of care.