"I don't think there is an extradimensional magic solution to the problem I have."

"...what is the problem you have?"

"Oh, it's trite compared to yours. Military officer falls in love with captured enemy combatant, awkwardly proposes marriage, she says she'll think about it, war ends, they go their separate ways and that is that. Strictly speaking I am able to visit her planet and ask after her, but I would not be well received there. She is in practical terms more capable of the reverse, but she hasn't."

"...is proposing to captured enemy combatants customary where you're from?"

He gives a short laugh. "No."

"Have to visit the planet to say 'how about that uncustomary proposal', can't send her a message?"

"We didn't actually exchange contact information, and I'm certain that anything I sent her would be read and possibly altered by both our governments."

"Oh. Inconvenient."

"Yes."

"One of the dead people had faster than light communication but it was almost certainly magic and he didn't use it for anything besides certain specialty purposes."

"Specialty purposes?"

"Backing up the cyborg Elves in case anything happened to their chips."

"Ah. Useful, I suppose."

"After a fashion."

"Less useful than it seems?"

"He was not an ideal custodian of the dead, not that I'm in a particularly good position to assert that..."

"You seem to be doing all right with them from what I've gathered."

"I did also kill them all in the first place and even the cyborg Elves I can't do anything to bring back fetuses in a certain midrange window of development."

Shrug.

"But thanks."

He should probably not be so annoyed by the quality of this milkshake, but here we are.

Pensive napkin exchange.

Pensive milkshake consumption.

The front door opens and someone comes in - a tall woman wearing a dark jacket over a tan shirt and trousers with a vaguely uniform look. Her hair is tucked up under a round blue hat, but the few wisps that escape it are red. She has soft black slippers on her feet and looks to be in a hurry, glancing over her shoulder as she passes the threshold.

When she comes fully into the room and turns forward again, and therefore catches sight of Aral and Cam, her hands fly to her mouth and she swallows a hoarse shriek into a faint high peeping noise like an alarmed baby bird.

...well, she is not an Elf and Maiar seem unlikely to dress like that so it's probably not Cam who has startled her. Unless she just objects to the extremities but it's kind of short notice to do anything about them.