Virgil Bartholomew leaned against a clay wall at the edge of the square, smoke billowing from his cigar with every breath. He slipped two fingers around it, and removed the stick of tobacco for a moment. Eyes sharp as a hawk, he took note of the odd sight of a Valnaur planting itself practically at the center of town. He still had plenty of prejudice toward that particular race and empire, but the way it moved had him curious. 

He slipped off the wall, and strode over further into the square. His face was a mask of shadow due to the wide brimmed hat he wore, and the light from the sun, beating down from above. Clad in a dark brown duster, his leather boots made audible noises of pressing into the dirt street as he approached, not uttering a word. He stopped before the emissary, and took a long drag of his cigar, staring at the alien with a dangerous gaze. A gaze that most Valnaur didn't live to see twice. 

"Showing yourself on a human world," Virgil said rhetorically, smoke wafting from him. "You must be lost, or someone worth of note. Or you're looking for something. Or maybe someone..." He took another drag from the cigar, before he dropped it onto the ground. The heel of his boot crushed it into the dirt. 

"I'm thinking if you're looking for something done, you're willing to pay a handsome price. Question is..." Virgil lifted his head a bit, allowing some of the sun to illuminate his face. He had a chiseled jaw, and an impressive handlebar mustache. "What's making you do it here, and not asking any of your own kind?"