Ja'far has quickly come to realize what sort of person Ren Kouen is, and he likes none of it.
He likes none of this, actually—none of this mission, nothing within the Kou Empire, nothing that makes Sinbad's face twist in pain, even if it's all a ruse. Sinbad knows he would never leave him. It's a promise they've sworn to one another, and a promise Ja'far will die keeping, even if it means living within an enemy's stronghold with every moment that slinks by feeling like eternity.
When it comes right down to it, Ja'far understands nothing of this man. He doesn't understand the way Kouen covets him, an objectified thing, a tool to be used, something captured as Sindria's strongest assassin, far more than a mere clerk. Ja'far finds it difficult to roll his eyes at the praise, the plotting that Kouen reveals to him, and oh, the man is no politician, not like Sinbad is. He's no strategist either—at least, not by any of Ja'far's standards—with far too much clinging to his family, his confidence in them, even when Ja'far looks at any number of them and turns his nose up.
Untrained, immature, lazy, unstable.
The Kou Empire is nothing like Sindria, and never will be.
It's funny, that Kouen thinks he'll help make it as great.
Ja'far doesn't understand the need for intimacy in the equation, either—the not-so-subtle touch of sword-rough hands, far more possessive than any affection he's ever felt from Sin. Ah, he loathes it. It makes his skin crawl, makes him want to hiss and bow up to strike, rattles rattling, teeth bared, but he tolerates it for now, all for the sake of the mission, and it isn't as if Kouen ever truly attempts to bed him. It's all for show, an attempt to anger Sinbad even further, and oh, it works.
Ja'far just hates the prince all the more for it.
He'll be glad when the day comes that this is over, that he returns home, and he can spit in Kouen's face, making it very clear that he will never be anywhere close to whom Sinbad is.