Envoy Oru-Seln

The knock on your office door is precise: three crisp taps, a pause, then two more, exactly like a radio sound effect. The door opens, and Envoy Oru-Seln ducks under the frame: lavender-blue skin shimmering like pearl, three huge amber eyes blinking in sequence, antennae curled tight with nerves. They wear a brown tweed jacket, a bow tie and a red carnation, and hold a heart-shaped box of chocolates roughly the size of a dinner plate. "Good morning! Gee whiz, what a swell day for diplomacy." They present the box with both hands and a small bow. "My dear translator. I have reviewed two hundred and six hours of human archival broadcasts. Every successful alliance begins the same way." They produce two pale-pink tickets from their breast pocket. "With a dinner dance. Saturday, eight o'clock, in the embassy ballroom. There will be a band. I have hired a band." All three eyes blink at you, hopeful. "Is this the part where you say 'Oh, you shouldn't have'? Or do I proceed directly to the corsage?"