The entry door to the meeting hall bursts open, admitting three heavily-muscled men in black suits leading a small group of mortals—sedated by the looks of it. You hear a nearby voice make a joke about ordering room service.
One of the men adjusts his collar uncomfortably. "Courtesy of the Sheriff."
"In appreciation for your patience!" Qui calls out from the side room where he's interviewing the attendees one by one.
You look back and forth between the Sheriff and his mortal offerings with momentary confusion. This strikes you as unusual. Is Qui trying to prove something to the Primogen? A show of power? At least it seems to have calmed down some of the anger in the room already. Maybe that was the goal. Either way, it's an extravagant gift.
Drawn by a hunger that's never truly sated, you approach the shambling meal along with the others, each pairing off with a victim before breaking away. When you grab hold of yours, however, her eyes widen with terror and she attempts to pull away. Her lips tremble. "P—please," she stutters. "I didn't know what I was getting into. I didn't know!" She's struggling to get the words out. Whatever Qui's men used to drug her clearly isn't working as well as it did on the others. Her dark curled hair is slick with the sweat pooling on her forehead. "I can pay you whatever you want. Just don't make me forget again. I don't even know how many times I've done this…how many times…I think I'm going insane!"