The lobby was spotless, quiet, with soft lighting that reflected off polished black floors.
He approached the front desk where a well-groomed man sat in uniform, collar sharp, hair slicked back like he'd picked a preset from a robotic stylist and hit confirm.
Then again, in a place this advanced, that probably was likely the case.
He could've been an actor back on Asher's homeworld—clean jawline, clear skin, eyes that looked like they'd practiced smirking in the mirror.
But the moment he looked up and saw Asher, his whole mood soured.
A few of the nearby staff had already turned their heads, whispering. Asher didn't do anything to draw attention, and he didn't need to.
Even with his looks toned down, he would still rank in the six digits across the entire universe.
The clerk hated it.
"I'm here to get a passage approved," Asher said, keeping his tone respectful.
