Cho-Tyrek avoids Jor'eth's eyes, even as he listens to his words. When he speaks up, though, he looks at Quintus. (Maybe it's because he's offering the best terms--or maybe it's as simple as having more respect for a fellow purveyor of violence than he does for the xeno.)

"Yes, I offer you my word that I will go peacefully if you bring no further harm to her, and do not deliver her to those who would do so in your stead." He slumps against the wall of the brig, the last bit of will that was propping up his broken body having vanished as he discharges this last duty. "I don't know who this Conclave is, but when I found her, she was being brought to a rendezvous." He rattles off a string of stellar coordinates from memory. "I understand that there's someone there who is waiting for her. Maybe they can give you the material reward you're searching for."

He falls slowly sideways, laying his body down on the cot; before you can interject further, he's fallen into a deep sleep.