Someone very official looking, in what's probably a uniform, though the sash across his chest is a bit unusual for that, approaches them. "Is the Captain of the Whiteburn ship?" the man asks.

"He is not here, but I speak on his behalf."

"There has been a minor incident involving one of your crewmembers."

"Well, how can I help you then?"

"It might be a bit of a delicate matter..."

"Do tell...?"

"There was an altercation." Pause, and: "Over appropriate pay for a sex worker."

"Ah, I see how that would require delicate management? Where is our crew member?"

"At the local arbitration house," he says, inclining his head. "It's nearby, if you would like to come."

"Of course, are there more details that you would like to share?"

"I was just sent to retrieve you, I don't have many details."

"I see," he grabs his things and turns back to the official, "lead the way."

The official nods, and does so.

The arbitration house is relatively plain and severe, though it still has carvings of odd creatures in its stucco. The inside is neatly appointed, stone benches instead of chairs and no rug upon the floor. A secretary looks up when they enter, looking the same sort of human as most here, and says, "Name and business?"

"Stephanos Graycalm and I am here to help a dispute involving a crewmember under my son Adam Graycalm." He does not look old enough to have a son that has a crew, but the wings clearly mark him as not-quite-human.

"Right. Altercation involving a newly arrived crewmember and a sex worker over appropriate pay," she identifies after a moment of glancing at him and a nod from the official. "They're both talking to a judge, right now, but it's unlikely to have gotten far."

Nod. "Thank you."

Now, to see how they can unravel this mess.

Samson and a human woman are sitting in front of a stern-faced judge (also human). The low murmur of conversation stops when the secretary announces them, and the judge turns her head to look at Stephanos. "I presume you are the representation for Samson?" she asks.

"If he's dragging in someone to argue for him, I want my union rep," the other woman says, arms crossed and expression mulish. 

"Yes, your honor," Stephanos says politely to the judge. "And I am sure the court will uphold your rights," he tells the sex worker. "If you don't mind. I would like Samson here to explain himself to me."

"Uh... I, I just... we are all stressed out with being on another world and stuff and I wanted to relax a bit. And I hired her for it, but then I remembered that she is... you know..."

"This a court, don't let anything be assumed."

"She is aging."

"Ah."

"So, what, you're speciesist against mortals?" the woman asks.

"I am not... I just... can't sleep with one! You get me, Captain Graycalm?"

Stephanos pinches the bridge of his nose. "I am not a Captain, and if you just wasted everyone's time over this. I am sorry, your Honor. I am sorry... miss. We have some cultural taboos that never collided with a society like yours. How exactly can we solve this? Is paying for the lost time enough?"

"That, and the property damage claims - which were minor - would suffice," the judge says calmly.

"Thank you, your honor."

Samson gives a little groan.

"Think with your brain next time and I would be more sympathetic to you."

Samson sets his jaw and nods.

"Did you even ask about their disease prevent and birth control methods?" Stephanos whispers.

Samson eeps.

"I have magic for that, I'm not operating unclean," the woman says, rolling her eyes.

"If that is all?" the judge asks before an argument can break out.

"I'm satisfied," the woman says, shrugging.

"That wasn't a jab at you," he tells the sex worker. "And thank you, your Honor."

He bows and after a second Samson does the same.

They proceed with the necessary bureaucracy and payments.

The bureaucracy is very efficient, and the payments are enough to be a solid warning not to do this again, without threatening most people's livelihoods.