[ Maika gives a quiet hum as she takes that all in — a disapproving sound, the one her grandmother had so disliked. She can understand the shape of what Aerith is saying, as different as their worlds are. People need energy and power for things. And the people who control that can more or less set their terms. ]

And I can imagine that's not too high on their list of concerns, either. Not if their energy source is what's keeping them in power.

[ That all fits together. Terrorism, her dying planet, the way none of the problems here seem to phase her much. Her world is more like Maika's than this place. ]

...So, what's a Cetra? If we weren't here maybe I could smell the difference. But you look mostly human to me.

[ And the instinctive little whiff she takes — which hopefully Aerith doesn't notice — is only giving her flowers. White flowers. ]