2/20/2
It's the same landing pad as before, and the shuttle lowers itself next to the Silencer.
This time, there are some entourage members. Rey can fly, and could handle the short hop from the Supremacy to the ground, but Threepio thought it would be more fitting for them to come in a ship with an actual staff.
(Kylo's almost starting to wonder if Threepio just doesn't feel comfortable with Rey flying. He can't imagine the droid was traumatized by her behind the controls of the Falcon or something, but… He's never asked.)
Jon, on the other hand, does not fly. So, that was that.
A pile of armed and armored stormtroopers march out of his command shuttle before Jon and Rey stroll on out. They look significant more put together and elegant than he did, hopping out of the Silencer after ten hours in hyperspeed.
And, from afar, watching them come to him, he can see that it is rather imposing to see them striding through a collection of men in blinding white armor, standing at attention, waiting for anyone to try anything with either of them.
It… looks good.
Kylo smiles at that.
He can feel the fact that the Kress around him think it looks good, too. They're impressed.
That smile widens. He crosses the hangar, hugs Rey, kissing her, and nods to Jon. "Good trip?"
"Fine," Jon replies as Rey thinks, I really miss teleporting.
I know! Kylo thinks back, his face against the top of her head.
"Long trip," Rey says, snugging him. But she actually thinks to him, Sitting in a transport with a pile of extremely nervous stormtroopers, all of whom were sure they were going to fart or something and horrifically embarrass themselves and make me uncomfortable, thus causing you to kill them, was not fun. After all, the actual trip from the Supremacy to the ground was about twenty-five minutes.
He holds her for a moment, eyes closed, content. They get nervous like that around me, too. And then they start thinking about if I'm as scary as they think I'm supposed to be. And then they remember the rumor I can read minds, so they start singing rowdy songs in their heads, then realize I might be able to hear the rowdy songs, and I might not approve of rowdy songs, then they get really uncomfortable, and start doing multiplication tables or stuff like that.
Rey mentally sniggers a little at that. You'll have to sing one for me.
Kylo doesn't chuckle. He can once again feel the curiosity of Sirreths behind him. This is, also, apparently not how Kress spouses greet each other, or… no… He's fine with what Kylo's doing with Rey, though he's assuming they're newlyweds and still in the touchy-feely phase of things. He's not sure why he's not hugging Jon the same way, and…
After all, he's not showing proper affection to his concubine. And if you want a happy home, you've got to be careful about things like that.
Well, introduction time, maybe do a little more to hammer home the idea that this is his wife and their friend, not his two spouses, or whatever. (He's a little fuzzy on the difference between a wife and concubine, and hasn't been willing to ask. Maybe, if this concubine thing doesn't get better, he'll bring it up at dinner. In his mind he feels Rey think: Oh, that'll be a fun conversation. She's only being a little sarcastic.)
He steps back from Rey, still holding her hand, and says, "Sirreths, Sub Prince of the Kress, this is my wife, Rey, and our friend, the Grand Marshall of the Order Diplomatic Corps, Jon Frakes."
Rey offers her hand, and the Sub Prince stares at it for a moment, before he remembers that human do that little hand squeezy thing, and he, very tentatively, takes her hand in his and barely touches it, looking at Kylo like he's expecting the man to whip his lightsaber out on him. When Kylo doesn't even twitch, and is still smiling, he gives Rey's hand a little grasp and then drops it like it's made of liquid nitrogen.
Rey smiles up at him, and he relaxes a bit, and smiles back. (Both of them can feel that he's under the impression that humans are amazingly reckless with their women. He glances up at Kylo's ship, klick upon klick of black metal blocking out the view of the entire sky. But, maybe if you command a ship like that, you can afford to let another man touch your wife's hand. Kylo makes a mental note to not offer to shake hands with any of the Kress ladies, assuming that, at some point, he'll get to meet one.)
Jon watches with a very amused attitude, and then does a perfect nod and kneel, and accepts the same from the Sub Prince.
The walk from the hanger to their suite goes about the same as before. This time, Kylo can feel the Kress around them staring at Rey's saberstaff in her hand, but they're not saying anything about it. He's fairly sure that if Jon were carrying it, they'd be peppering him with questions right and left, but Rey's got it, and they don't know what to do about it.
Meanwhile, if Jon's got a weapon, Kylo doesn't see it, but the stormtroopers behind them are carrying what looks like a lot of luggage for one night's stay.
He mentally rolls his eyes. Sirreths is looking from Rey's weapon, to Jon's lack of weapon, and he's absolutely convinced that not only is Jon the concubine, but Jon's the female one, and obviously they must have misunderstood what was going on with the wife/concubine thing. Apparently, in their native language wife is a gendered term, and maybe it didn't translate properly by the time it got through the droids.
Sirreths is feeling pretty satisfied with that, and suddenly the lack of hand squeeze with Jon is making him feel a lot better about the proper behavior of the thing.
Kylo's doing his best not to rub his temples in frustration. Rey's smirking a bit. And Jon, luckily not a mind-reader, is just strolling along, taking in the view and getting a feel for the place.
As they're walking, a Kress runs up, with a sword in hand, and skids to a halt. He's out of breath, and panting as he says, "I'm sorry, sir. It took a while to find one."
Rey and Jon look curiously at the blade, as Sirreths takes it and waves his servant away.
Kylo says, "We were killing time by playing with our blades a bit." (Jon does not laugh. He does smile, very amused. He also, clearly, thinks to Rey and Kylo, I told you he'd like it here. She also looks very amused by that.) "And the Sub Prince thought it might be a good idea if I were to work with a sword more my size."
"Using the lightsaber was quite gratifying. I'm sorry we do not have time to truly test out the hrthisst." Though he does hand it to Kylo, who pauses to pull it from its scabbard. It's a different sort of blade from the one Sirreths has. This is shorter, thinner, built similarly to an actual saber. Kylo's fairly sure that he'd be very good with it.
It's got a very nice balance, and a good feel to it. Heavier than his training blade, but not the sort of thing that'd sprain his wrist.
He sort of wants to take the time to really pet it. It's so… bright and shiny, and it just about sings to him, and he can… really see enjoying using something like this. "It's beautiful." He slides it back into his scabbard. "Next time. You'll come visit us, and bring your weapon. We'll play with both. I think we'd enjoy testing them against my training droids. All the fun of the fight, no risk of accidentally hurting someone who matters."
Sirreths looks very pleased by that.
Once again, they get to the "suite." And once again, there's a very similar conversation about where everyone is supposed to be sleeping. It goes like this: The Seneschal says, "Master, dinner is set for an hour from now. Is that sufficient time for you, your Spouse, and Concubine to prepare yourselves?"
Jon sniggers. He looks like this is the funniest thing he's heard all day. "That the mix-up Threepio was fretting about?"
Kylo nods. Then he turns to the Seneschal. "An hour is enough time for my wife, and our friend, The Grand Marshall, who is supposed to have his own rooms, and would like to be shown to them, to prepare for tonight."
The Kress can't blush, but Kylo has the sense that if he could, he would. "Right, yes. I'm terribly sorry. Grand Marshall Frakes… If it's not too much trouble, intruding upon your Master… We have rooms… Somewhere, I'm sure."
Kylo nods. "Go talk to whichever higher up is in charge, and get it sorted." He looks at Jon and says to him, "It's up to you, you can take the playroom, or we'll take it, and you can use the bedroom," as the Kress leaves, looking to 'sort things out,' which at this point Kylo is sure means, ignore the problem or maybe report back about it to Sirreths, and then he'll ignore it.
Once the Kress is out, Jon says, as he unclasps the collar on his jacket, takes it off, and lays it on the sofa. Unlike Rey, who is not in an Order uniform, he's got too many layers on for this sort of heat. "You're here for six hours and you go native?"
Kylo looks at his sleeveless tunic and loose trousers. "It's fucking hot out there. Did I screw the diplomacy or something?"
Jon shakes his head. "Nah. Even I read people well enough to tell they like you."
Rey's looking him up and down. "Looks good on you."
"Thanks."
"Okay, come on, show us." Jon's got a dirty grin on his face. "We read up on the way here, and apparently the Kress really know how to party, so…"
"Oh, it's a party all right," Kylo leads them across 'his' suite, and opens the door to the one his 'pets' are supposed to share. "So, anyway, this is supposed to be for you two."
Rey looks around the room, and her jaw drops.
Jon steps in, looks very much like he's trying extremely hard not to bust out laughing, and isn't sure if he's going to be able to avoid it. (A second later, he gives up, and just howls with laughter.)
Rey starts to laugh with him, and with both of them cackling away, Kylo decides this is pretty damn funny, too. Once everyone is calmed down, Rey and Kylo step in, too, and begin to 'explore' a bit.
"So, this is the room we're," she gestures to Jon and her, "supposed to share?" Rey finally says, standing in front of a shelf that's holding a wide and imaginative collection of what Kylo's assuming are dildos, though, made for Kress specifications and anatomy.
Kylo holds his hands out wide in a gesture of surrender. "Apparently."
Rey's turning in a circle, just staring. Jon's chuckling quietly, shaking his head. "So… What are we expected to do here?" He wanders over to the… Kylo's just going to call it a sex couch. He's sure it's got a real name, but… It's a couch, one made of three soft curves that, from the looks of it- Jon leans against it in a manner that would likely make Poe's head explode-are designed to support bodies in a wide array of comfortable and accessible positions. Of all the stuff in here, that's the one that he's most interested in playing with.
"Apparently, me, a lot, in many different positions," Kylo replies.
Jon shifts from how he draped himself over the one side of the sofa, and actually settles onto the middle curve. He certainly looks comfortable there. And, so, likely would anyone who felt a desire to be in his lap, or over his face, or… Yes, Kylo wants to play with this thing. Or at least play with Rey while they're on the thing.
"Okay, that one, we might try out, but…" he says, as Rey also leans against the edge of it, a bit behind Jon, and Kylo's suddenly got a few more ideas of things he might like to do with that sofa. He makes himself stop thinking about that, looks around the rest of the room, and nods to the contraption of what appears to be loops of silky black fabric hanging from the ceiling, "I'm not even sure what you do with one of those."
Jon gets up, steps over to it, wraps his forearms in some of the loops, and does something that Kylo could have never anticipated. He pulls himself up, so he's hanging inverted, and then loops the fabric around his thighs. Then he just dangles, supported by the web of fabric. He grins at Kylo, "I know."
Kylo and Rey stare at each other, and then at Jon, and then back at each other. Kylo's not sure if he should say that he's still not sure what the hell to do with the black fabric concoction, because… Well… he or Rey just dangling, and how that might be erotic, just broke his brain. Hell, upside down, it's not even like you'd have a good view of what anyone else in the room might be doing.
"I don't think I need to."
Jon untangles himself and drops to the floor. "Don't say I didn't try to explain."
"Uh…" Rey says. (He's pleased that she's also not immediately seeing what to do with the black fabrics, or hanging upside down, either.)
"And…" Kylo barrels on, he can't even name the thing in the corner, though he points at it. "I'm not even going to try and guess with that one." Jon and Rey both look at it, too. Jon shrugs, and Rey moves a little closer to poke it, but even with her mechanical engineering background, and her ability to figure out how things work just by being near them, she's got no ideas. "Threepio told me, when I asked, that it's common for men to bring their wives and companions to things like this for… Stress relief or something."
Rey steps closer to Kylo and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Poor, Opal. Has it been a long day?"
He grins. "Terribly. Let's skip supper and see if that sofa's as comfy as it looks."
Jon rolls his eyes. "And what am I supposed to do?"
And more of those thoughts he probably shouldn't be having come running through his head. "Uh, take pictures?"
Jon looks quite amused by that. "You're getting better at this."
He's fine with Jon thinking he's just improving his banter skills. He looks around the room, hoping there's a chrono somewhere among the naked, gyrating, fucking Kress imagery, and doesn't see one. "We need to be getting ready, right?"
Jon and Rey nod, and Jon says, "There's got to be a bathroom or something around here. I'll grab this one and leave you two the 'real bedroom.'"
"What could you possibly do in here?" Kylo asks.
"Among other things, not get so distracted by the options that I end up running late," Jon says with a wink as he heads to the main room to grab his kit. "Don't have to be a mind reader to see you two cataloging the potential in here. If they can't find a place for me, I'll take the real bedroom for sleeping, but Kylo's right, we're on the chrono, so…"
"And that's that," Rey replies, heading toward the 'real' room with Kylo.
Take pictures? Rey thinks to Kylo as they're getting changed.
He shrugs a little, pulling the loose tunic over his head. I don't know… It's… Something about this place. They all sort of expect me to be fucking both of you, and it's getting into my head. In a few ways I wasn't expecting.
Rey nods at that. Then she smirks. Empath. How many other brains have you been steeping in all day?
He sighs a bit. She's likely flopped right into the issue. He's kept his sensitivity to what's going on around him on high, which is great for figuring out what people around him expect, or if he's going the wrong way. It's not so good for keeping himself… well… himself.
She grins at him. So… if we do end up sleeping in the playroom… Do you want to play?
He closes his eyes, a lot of images spiking behind those lids. That sofa looked… intriguing.
She sidles up closer to him, her lips a breath away from his. It really did. I was thinking, if you were to sort of straddle it and lean against the side…
She hits him with a mental image that makes his breath speed up and his trousers go tight.
He yanks her closer, and kisses her hard. If he's got to go to this thing distracted as fuck, she does, too.
I'm not distracted at all, Rey thinks to him, as she deepens the kiss. I'm extremely focused.
Did you… That image she hit him with would require some props from home.
Yeah, I brought them. You were not thinking quietly the first time you got in that room.
He laughs at that, kissing his good mood to her. "I love you."
"I know." She nips his lower lip, and sucks it between hers. "And we really do need to get ready."
"Right."
So, apparently, these days, his formal blacks are awfully similar to his command blacks. The detailing is a little different, and he's got his cloak but… It's the same basic shape.
Kylo's okay with that.
What's really interesting him on this one is Rey's outfit for the night, and not just because he's always vastly more interested in anything Rey's got on compared to his own clothing.
It actually looks a lot like his formal blacks, except her colors are warm golds and creams and browns. (And, unlike his formal blacks which do include an Order Hex, she's currently not wearing any badge of alliance.) And while his jacket closes on his right shoulder, hers closes down the middle.
And, she's got her lightstaff.
So, it's not particularly frilly or femme, but it's certainly not a standard Order uniform, either. It just… looks a lot like one.
He's about to ask Jon, who just came into the main room from the Room Of Sex what the point of this outfit is, but then he really looks at Jon.
Or the sniper rifle he's casually carrying propped against his shoulder.
Right. Because men carry their weapon. He's never seen Jon carry a weapon, and honestly, hasn't much contemplated what, if any sort, Jon would prefer. Because he doesn't think of Jon as a fighter. But now he is, and Jon's weapon is a… sniper rifle.
Jon can see the way he's watching, and shrugs a bit. "Like every officer, I have a service blaster, but I'm better with this."
Kylo blinks.
"I do keep telling you, I am actually an officer. I didn't just stumble in one morning and start reorganizing the uniforms. I'm combat rated in hand to hand, blaster, and with an honors specialization on sniper rifle. Just because I don't enjoy this sort of thing doesn't mean I didn't have to learn how to do it." He pats the stock of his rifle. "Or that I didn't learn how to do at least some of it, well."
Rey's staring at the long expanse of black metal in Jon's hands. "Is that a little black skull?" She asks as she sees the tiny black skull on the… middle part… she doesn't know what that part of the rifle is called.
He nods. "Means my range is over two klicks."
Kylo just blinks.
"It's not my full kit. But I didn't think lugging the entire case full of scopes, barrels, bullets, or the traj computer, was a good plan."
Kylo shakes his head a bit, and then says, "Have you ever… shot anyone?"
"Sims for the training, targets for the next level, got my cert and bumped over to my real job before there was a need for any killing on my part." He turns to Rey. "With the way the officer's tracks work, a LOT of people have to die before they'll call me up and put a weapon in my hand. Plus…" he shrugs a bit, "When sniper school was built, under Palpatine, he used to do things like assassinate political rivals. In the old days, my skills would have been used for something like that. Under Snoke…" He shrugs at that, again. "The old fucker didn't bother with stuff like that. I'm not a sharpshooter. That's a combat position. Run in, find a position on the fly, shoot, move again. That's not what I do." He pats his rifle. "I show up three days ahead of time, scout every angle, find a place to hole up, wait for the target, do the math, take them out, and then head off. Not the same thing, at all." He thinks about it. "Hell, the only reason it's likely still on the books as an option for organics is that Palpatine wanted humans, lots and lots of human, and wasn't so keen on droids, and Snoke likely never bothered to shift the training paths. I don't imagine many organics do this sort of work anymore."
Kylo and Rey both think about that for a moment.
Finally, Rey says, "What's your targeting range?"
He shrugs. "On a sim, I can hit something person-sized ten out of ten times at two point three four klicks. Got to have the right wind and scope, but… It's doable. Take the range further out and my success rate starts to drop, fast."
Kylo's still staring at the rifle. "Jon…"
"Yeah."
Kylo's staring at the little cartridges in the metal… thing… that's jutting partially out of the rifle. "Does that thing shoot projectiles?"
"It can. They're called bullets, Kylo. Gravity effects bullets. It doesn't effect light. Depending on your range, and how high you are, you might need an actual bullet to hit someone."
Rey blinks.
"If you're at the extreme end of my range, and the guys who are really good at this can get up to four klicks, and the planet is the right size, what looks like a straight shot, isn't. So, with a bullet, you aim up a bit, and gravity takes the bullet down, and my traj computer tells me exactly what degree to shoot at, and boom, end of target. With a laser, the shot goes straight, often over the head of whatever it is you aimed at. So, for extreme shots, bullets. Closer range, laser." He touches, but does not move, a tiny switch near the trigger on his rifle. "Flick the switch and I can go from full automatic laser fire to bullets and back again. Though, again, I should never need to do more than two or three shots at a go."
"My ship…" Because the only guns Kylo ever uses are attached to a ship.
"Is in space, shooting at other things in space, all it needs are straight lines, Kylo. On terra firma, sometimes you need a shot that can curve."
"Right…" He stares at the rifle. "Neat."
"Neat?" Jon and Rey ask.
He shrugs a little. "No?"
Jon shakes his head a bit. "No one's ever told me that's neat before."
"So, what does, 'really knows how to party' mean?" Kylo asks as they're heading, amid a pile of Stormtroopers, toward tonight's dinner.
"I don't think we'll get into it tonight," Jon says, aware of the pile of stormtroopers around them.
"But, apparently, at the right time of year, they have a massive week-long fertility festival, and… things get… wild," Rey says, not aware of the stormtroopers the same way Jon is.
"Wild?" Kylo asks with a brow raised.
"Imagine a whole planet of the fun zone on F-deck, for a week. Non-service businesses close down. Schools close. Non-essential military personnel are on leave. Everyone who can be off, is. And then they have a huge, planet wide, street party. Parades, live music, bonfires, dancing, food, costumes. They'll take months to prepare for it, and once Carnivale time hits, it's a free for all," Rey says. "Even the women are allowed out to frolic in the streets."
"And then a year and a half later, there's a crop of new baby Kress," Jon says.
"Are all Kress born…" Kylo asks.
"Then? Actually, yes, apparently," Jon says. "Somewhere along the line of their history making babies and fucking got divorced from each other, so…"
"Huge, massive party to celebrate the next crop of babies," Rey says.
"Huh…" Kylo thinks about the cold-blooded aspect. "Do they lay eggs?"
Jon nods. "Yep. Somewhere in each home, there's a climate-controlled room with their babies gently cooking away. A long time ago, raids to steal fertilized eggs and breeding women were a thing. That's part of why men carry weapons all the time, and you rarely see their women outside of their homes."
"Women who can make eggs are rare here?" Kylo's thinking that might suggest why he hasn't seen any.
"Something like one for every six men," Rey says.
And that comment about 'things we do with our brothers' is also making more sense to him.
"The briefing Threepio sent said there should be female Kress at tonight's party, though," Rey adds. "Apparently, the ability to attract and keep women who can make eggs is a major status symbol here. There's an intricate series of requirements for each additional wife, and…"
"It's complicated. Threepio basically told us to just nod and smile at whatever we ran into," Jon adds. "Apparently, nothing we'll see is… he chose the word… actionable."
"Ah…" Kylo says, wondering what the fuck actionable means.
Worth ditching a 500 billion credit contract, Rey thinks back to him.
He nods. Yes, there is that.
Nod and smile. Okay…
So, as nodding and smiling goes...
First of all, they have, indeed, located the Kress women. And… they're… well… Um… Nodding and smiling.
It's a very elegant dining situation. At least to Kylo's taste. Low sofas surround the main tables, set with food and drink and sparkly shiny tableware and… Apparently, the plan is to lounge on the sofas, and eat with company.
And for everyone who isn't his part of the party, that company is Kress ladies.
Status, huh? Jon thinks to him.
Apparently, Kylo thinks back.
They both look at Rey, who's just staring. At each of the sofas, there's a male Kress, who is apparently the main guest, and sitting… next to, near, on, or at the feet of him, are at least two, and at two the sofas, three Kress ladies in… very… small outfits, that appear to be comprised of mostly chains of rare and sparkly metals, set with shimmery gems.
You've worn bandages that covered more skin than that. Rey thinks to him.
He nods slowly. I know you're exaggerating, but I also think you're right.
"Ah, good!" Sirreths comes up to them. "I see you found the festivities. Kylo, you'll be sitting at my grandfather's table, and Grand Marshall Frakes, you'll be with my uncle." He looks at Rey, clearly panics for a second, and chokes out, "Lady Ren, you'll be seated with my father…" But she won't, not the way he understands that, so he shifts it to, "At my father's table."
"Excellent," Kylo says.
And everyone freezes. And unfreezes because Kylo and Rey can feel the problem is that Sirreths is horrified at the implications of leading a woman away from her spouse, even if they are staying in the same room.
Will it annoy you if I offer to escort you to your seat? Kylo thinks to Rey.
I have the feeling they're going to start passing out from the stress if you don't.
Yes, but I'm more concerned about your sense of propriety than theirs.
And I'm thinking 'five years, five hundred billion credits' so my sense of propriety appears to be feeling rather flexible right now.
Kylo bites his lip to keep himself from laughing. He takes Rey's hand in his, and, once it's clear that he's more than willing to escort her to her seat, Sirreths relaxes.
When Rey's settled onto her own sofa, staff at her feet. Kylo bends down to kiss her, and then goes to his own sofa, next to the Primo.
He feels the eyes of every Kress in the room on him as he does that, and the wave of Holy shit, he did it! Now what? coming from the Kress at Rey's table, but…
I've got this. You go get your table. Rey thinks to him.
Okay, he thinks back. Nodding and smiling.
He glances over to Jon, who's already seated, his rifle propped next to him, drink in hand, smiling widely, and looking like he's having the best time ever.
Well… If Jon can do it, he can, too, right?
He feels Rey's voice in the back of his head. Right.
Status… Jon's mentioned that to him. And, of course, Ellie and Mirina have been working on those angles with Rey, so he's heard about it from that side, too. So, he's aware it's a thing, and how from system to system and culture to culture the rules of the game changes, but… This is just… fucking stupid.
Actually, no. It's likely set up just to make him feel a bit off.
Kylo looks around. A lot off.
He's the only one at his table on a sofa by himself. It's clear where Rey and Jon are supposed to be. Here, at his feet, draped over his knees, hovering behind him, or something like that. The other 'men' here have their pets with them, a collection of what he assumes are extremely attractive examples of the Kress race in what appear to be as little clothing as their culture and climate allows. (And, honestly, from some of the thoughts he's catching, he's thinking that it's possible the women are wearing more clothing than usual, in an attempt to begin to try and cater some to Order mores. Apparently, the little panty-things they're all wearing are last minute additions.)
He did remember to not offer his hand to any of the ladies. That worked out fine. He felt the massive wave of appalled Kress emotions when he spoke directly to one without her husband starting the conversation first, and went leaping, mid-sentence to including her spouse into the conversation. They all relaxed when he did it, though half of them looked at Rey, sitting all by herself on the far side of the room, and then looked at all that empty space around Kylo on his sofa, and decided humans are weird.
But, he is, slowly, with a lot of smiling and nodding, feeling like he's starting to understand how this works. Once one of the husbands starts a conversation, and includes the woman in it, he can speak directly to her, but only once the husband has started the conversation, and each time the subject changes, they've got to go through this dance again.
He can feel that just because it's been a few hundred years since woman/child stealing was common, does not mean that the menfolk have let up on what constitutes 'polite' interactions. And, anything, that might be considered getting to know a woman well enough to decide you might want to grab her, is dangerous territory.
(He's not sure how to indicate that even if he did find Kress attractive, which he doesn't, he's beyond happy with his own spouse and has no interest whatsoever in grabbing a few Kress ladies. He's also not sure if that would help to relax things, or if they'd consider it an insult.)
But that's not the point.
The pre-supper chatting wanders on, and the conversation is, for the most part, pleasant, and the Primo, who's name appears to be Grytts, but no one other than his ladies use it, seems to be the kind of person that his dad would tell stories about working long cons with. He's a craggy old booger with more tricks up his sleeves than sleeves on his arms. So… He can sort of feel a kind of kinship, even if it is removed to arm length.
And then… status… The first course is settled in front of them.
The pets go from sitting with their men to feeding them.
The ladies are draped around their men, feeding them little nibbles of the banquet laid out around them, rubbing their shoulders, petting their thighs… It's just… Either the Kress are vastly more sexually aggressive than he is, or they got some sort of rumor that he's something of a prude and are doing this just to annoy him, but…
Well, it's actually working.
It's not that he's bothered by the men around him enjoying their pets. It's mostly them looking at him like he's some sort of pitiful creature who can't afford his own pets. He's got pets. (Pets?… Shit, he doesn't like how he's starting to think about this. There's way too much Kress in his head right now. He pulls his empathy back, and then forgets the stupid bloody rule about which of the women he can talk to when and… Fuck!)
His pets are so good at what they do they're off at their own tables (Also all on their own, and he can feel Rey's table is genuinely confused with what to do with her, because she's supposed to be a pet, not her own person, and… She's taking care of that on her own. And there's some recognition that, at least with Jon, they're just messing with him, because no one at his table seems to be confused as to why he's there.) taking care of business.
His shoulders droop a bit as he gets it. All of the 'men' around him not only have extremely attractive people who do nothing but tend to their physical wants and pleasures, but they also have extremely sharp people who tend to the needs of their states.
Apparently, this is a world where pleasure may be part of doing business, but…
Or not. As he keeps smiling and nodding, and slowly eating each bit of food laid in front of him, he's noticing how some of the pets are watching him and the world around them. Interesting. Some of them are here just as decorations. Some are spies. Some of them are the brains behind the operation, and the 'man' they're tending to is actually the decoration.
He remembers something Ellie? Pat? He doesn't remember which one said it, but he's sure the other would agree, By the time you get to this level, the spouses are not just fluff. And if you find one that is, something's wrong.
No one at this table is a decoration. Not really. Even if the man who's being doted on isn't aware of that.
But they likely wouldn't mind if he thought they were.
He sighs again, and takes a bite, that he feeds himself, (and gets some vaguely pitying looks aimed at him, any Kress of status considers a man feeding himself at a dinner like this unseemly. Even the pets do.) and tries to focus on the business at hand.
Dinner starts a bit tense at Rey's table. It's not that the Kress want to be unwelcoming, but…
It's the height of rude for a man to start a conversation with a married woman. Blood has been and will again be shed for significantly smaller infractions of the laws of polite society.
And, yes, Kylo is here, but he's on the other side of the room, paying no attention to Rey. It'd be one thing if he were right next to her, monitoring and chaperoning this, but… He's in the middle of his own conversation, supremely unconcerned that his woman… (they're still not entirely sure of that) is all by herself, surrounded by strange men.
And they did sign up for this.
But… well… They were fairly sure that The Order was kidding. That they'd set this up as a test, to see how the Kress could handle things rolling in a way they weren't used to, but… They didn't expect the Master would actually go through with it.
Actually, the whole thing has been perplexing. The repeated comments about the concubine needing his own rooms, and Rey sitting here, eating, on her own, not tending to her husband, and…
The fighting thing. Sirreths mentioned that Lady Ren and Lord Ren fight each other. The Prince and the Primo spent a good hour reading through everything they could find on human cultures, to see if that was common, but…
It's just weird. This is his lady, and apparently, he's only got the one, and she's just… here… completely undefended… talking with them, or at least looking like she might attempt to do so, and…
And what man in his right mind leaves his woman out where anyone could just… grab her? (They're still not sure if this is the single biggest power move they've ever seen, or if Ren is completely insane and reckless. The ship makes them think this is a power move. He's daring them to be rude. If someone were to set a toe over the line, those Citykillers would be out and that'd be that, but… He is… young, and… His woman has her own weapon… Though it was his grandfather's so there's something, but… They don't know.)
And, of course, spontaneously starting conversation with strangers isn't exactly Rey's favorite thing, either, and on top of that, she can feel that the others at her table aren't sure what the rules are here, so…
She grits her teeth, smiles some, and then says, "I certainly heard the name of our food, but I have no idea what this is."
The men all glance at each other. She started the conversation, so they can answer, but they're still nervous, because Kylo is chatting with the Primo, and not keeping an eye on Rey, and what if he gets annoyed by this…
The Prince steels himself, takes a breath, tenses a little, and then says, "G'rllth?" (He visibly relaxes when Kylo doesn't go leaping up to tear his nose off.)
"Yes. I can see it's pink and square, but… Is it a fruit? Vegetable? Cake?" Rey picks it up and nibbles a corner off the small food. "It's tasty."
"It's a pickled root," Syrthiaa, the Prince's prime consort, says. She's visibly more comfortable with this than her man is, because she's allowed to talk to any woman, anywhere, anytime. That said, she is very uncertain about the staff, and keeps looking at it. Why would a married woman want a weapon? Ren's small, but still… To Syrthiaa that looks like an insult to Kylo's skills. Rey may as well just go fuck other men in front of him. But… she glances at the concubine. Hells, Ren might like that.
It's clear The Prince is still feeling a bit off, but… It's also his favorite food, and he likes to talk about food, so… "They harvest them in the springtime, and then press them to get all the moisture out."
"It helps make them tender, too," Syrthiaa says.
The Prince nods. "They're almost rock hard right out of the ground, and so bitter they'll bring up welts on your tongue. But the press and pickling takes care of that."
"Once they're pressed, into the brine they go?" Rey asks.
"You've made pickles before?" Syrthiaa asks. She's starting to doubt that Rey is a woman. Yes, that's what they've been told, but she carries a weapon and cooks. Those are both man jobs. And she doesn't look all that different from the two men. Smaller, certainly, but men come in all sizes. But why lie about something like that. If Rey's a man… Humans are weird!
"Not this kind. But at home, when we'd get a good store of fresh fruit and veg in, we'd pickle what we didn't freeze or cook." She takes another bite. "This is the kind I like best, sweet sour, bright salt."
"What sort of fruit?" The Prince asks.
Rey thinks about that. "Peaches or plums. Have you ever had one of them before?"
The Prince shakes his head. "I don't even know what a peach or plum is."
"We've eaten all the plums, but I think we still have some of the pickled peaches left. If we do, I'll make sure to send you jar." Another long, quiet moment stretches out. Rey flails around, and comes up with, "If they're rock hard, and make your tongue blister, what made you decide to try and eat them?"
That pleases the Prince. He likes talking about Kress ingenuity. "Yes, most people give up when food tries to fight them back."
Rey never expected to run into a culture where martial valor extended itself to food preparation, but apparently, on Kreh, one fights to protect and hold one's home and family, and to subdue one's food.
They like her stories of working on the microfarm (gardening and food cultivation are 'woman' jobs), and they're properly impressed by the fact that if cooking were to happen, Kylo will generally be the one to do it. (She sees the Prince's consort and wife share a look about that. And then glance over to Kylo, and back to her. She doesn't extend her senses enough to see what that was all about.)
She likes hearing about knife making technology, and family blades, and how fathers pass their knives down to their sons and that the first sign of being a man is the ability to catch, and then cook, the food the family lives on.
"Granted, these days, hunting down food is mostly done at the local market, but when our boys feel old enough, we go out for the ceremonial hunt, and invite all of the family and friends to partake of the meal they cook after," The Prince says.
"And, if we're lucky, said boy has paid enough attention to his lessons that we don't all get food poisoning," the Princess says.
"Been to a few exciting meals?" Rey asks.
"Danger is one of the great spices of life," The Prince says. "And it usually seasons coming of age meals, too."
Jon's having a pretty good meal. First and foremost, the Kress around him are not doing their best to walk on tiptoes, blindfolded, through shattered glass, without cutting themselves around him.
So, what, he's the concubine?
Male concubines are weird, but… Well, from everything they could find, Jon is a very pretty version of a human male, so… If Ren wants to keep him as a concubine, so be it.
(The other men at Jon's table all have friends. That's normal. They understand that. But wives and concubines are status symbols, signs of how many women, who are rare, you can care for. Kress men don't bring their male friends to things like this, because… Well, you bring your women to something like this to show them off, because not everyone has a woman, but everyone has male friends, hell, half the men at this table have slept with the other half at least once, but… Well, humans are weird.)
Anyway, for Jon this is fairly similar to at least a few of the weddings he's attended over his years of life with his Mum. The conversation is flowing around in that small-talky sort of way of people all slapped into one place who don't much know each other but are trying to get along, and he can do that in his sleep.
The food is good. The sofa is comfortable. The drink is the first beverage he's ever had to water. (Kylo wasn't kidding about this stuff. He's fairly sure it'd strip paint if you needed it to.) And he's also wishing he'd brought wormwood tincture instead of gin, but… Well, he doubts Kylo even knows about the existence of the green fairy, let alone how much it might taste like the beverage he's sipping.
(He gets talking about wormwood tincture, and the rest of his table decides to see if the local beverage will produce a green fairy, so for a good twenty minutes, they're happily chatting away and playing with the drinks.)
The Kress are generally pleasant about the gin he brought along as a gift. It's way too soft of a beverage for them, but they seem to enjoy the flavor, and all in all, his table is having a good time.
He is not missing the fact that they do not talk business with him. He can go on, at length, about potential troop deployments, or where on the border things are weakest, and tactical assessments of the Kress XO planets, but…
Pleasant small talk, some deeper and more involved conversation about how bullets work, because, like Kylo they seem a little fuzzy on how gravity and wind and atmosphere effects projectile weapons, but it's very clear in how they're steering the conversation, that they're awfully certain Jon's title is ceremonial, not functional.
He's thinking that before they do more of these, someone, and he's thinking his Mum would be the right person for it, needs to spend a bit more time with Threepio going over the concept of 'status.' He might know the protocol in the sense of which fork to use when, but he's missed the point of this meal. It's abundantly clear to Jon that for this dinner is supposed to be about pleasure, maybe with a little business thrown in around the edges, and Kylo was supposed to bring his pets, not his highest ranking officers.
This is supposed to be a party.
He smirks a little when he remembers that the reason why the Kinears aren't here is because they're at a different supper. If the Kress are this confused by him and Rey, he can't imagine how they'd react to Kinear and Ellie.
It's toward the end of the meal. The alcohol has been flowing. (Though Kylo hasn't been drinking it. He'd be under the table if he attempted to finish one glass of the local 'wine.' Let alone the three or four each of his table mates have had.) The Primo, having decided he's a fairly decent person, is feeling rather brave, and secure. Getting over the 'details' of the meeting means they've actually got a decent map in place for a functional working relationship. Spending an hour talking blades and fighting technique has proven to him that Ren can handle himself. Spending two hours of dinner, watching the man navigate a culture he obviously doesn't know, but doing a good job of it tells the Primo that Kylo can pay attention and learn and adapt. All things he values.
He takes a sip of his wine, handing the cup back to his Prima, who kisses his shoulder as she takes it, as he says, "Your lady," he nods toward Rey, who is talking with one of the diplomats at her table, "what is she doing all the way over there?" He's also wondering why she's wearing so much clothing, but he's got the good sense to know that's not an appropriate question. (At least, not unless he can get more alcohol into Ren, and from the looks of it, that's not happening tonight.)
Kylo thinks for a moment how to answer that. "I've been able to feed myself since I was a toddler." He picks up another bite of… whatever this is… it's small, tasty finger food, and if he gets some time alone with Rey, he really would like to play with it and her. There is something… civilized… about having supper on a sofa with your beloved, feeding each other little nibbles, and he certainly wouldn't mind setting his life in such a way as that becomes a regular part of their rotation.
He pops the morsel in his mouth, demonstrating. "I can't run multiple conversations with several people on several topics at once. So, the two most valuable people in my life, my most beloved and trusted companions are here, doing what I need them to do, talk, listen, make deals, keep the Order moving in the direction it needs to be."
His host smiles at that. He nods to the table Rey is at. "My son is chatting with your wife. And my brother is at the table with your…"
"Grand Marshall Frakes."
"Not your concubine?" It's clear that the Primo has been told this. It's also clear he doesn't much believe it. Kylo gets a flash of how some cultures are uptight about things like concubines, and try to hide them among the powerful man's retinue. They assume that's what he's doing.
"No. My friend." As soon as he's said it, he knows he just tripped into some context that makes sense to them, but… shit. Yep. He can feel what the Primo does with his friends. That word, does not, on any level, mean the same thing to him. "The man who runs my diplomatic corps."
"Ah…" The Primo takes another sip of his drink, and leans forward, voice low, "Are you not… lonely… with them taking care of business?"
Kylo gets hit with a very vivid image of what the Primo thinks his pets are supposed to be doing. It's him on the sofa, Rey in his lap, wearing what the locals consider clothing for women. He certainly wouldn't mind an almost naked Rey, glittering with chains of rare metals and gems sitting in his lap keeping him company. It's the other half of the image, the mostly naked Jon decked out in similarly sparkling chains and gems, curled into his side hand-feeding him a morsel of supper, he's got no idea what to do with.
It's a nice image. Shit. He doesn't know if the part of his brain that eventually decided having Unthar rubbing on him was a good time is now thinking, well, Jon is pretty, and being petted is fun, and he likes food, and if this is how the locals do things, maybe it'd be a good time. Or if the Primo's ideas of proper behavior and how men are supposed to enjoy their status is so firmly planted in his head right now that it's really messing with his sense of propriety.
He decides not to ponder that too closely. "I like… not being lonely… as much, if not more than, the next person, but… No insult or slight to your ladies, but I prefer the company of my wife, and since she's significantly more valuable to me talking over there, than she would be here, tending to me," and again he feeds himself a bite of whatever it is, "she's over there. We'll… reconnoiter after."
"But not your man?" one of the pets asks.
"I'm sure we'll talk with him, too. Probably share an after-dinner drink and chat."
He can feel they're all interested in this. "But not his bed?" one of the High Commanders asks.
"No."
"Why? He's…" The Primo's not-wife stares at Jon, who senses it, looks up, and smiles at her. "young, fertile, and attractive by human standards, correct?"
Kylo's not sure what to say to that. Finally, he comes up with, "He's young and attractive by human standards. I don't know if he's fertile, but… If he is… He… Uh… Wouldn't be with me. Human males can't make babies with other human males. And… Uh… Most humans are only or primarily attracted to one sex, and he's not the sex I find attractive."
He can feel the rest of them looking from Jon to Rey and back again, but they appear to be having a difficult time figuring out what differences Kylo sees between them. Granted, if Kylo hadn't wandered into the room of sex, he wouldn't be able to catalog the differences between Kress males and females, beyond general size, even with the ladies wearing basically nothing. (In fact, right now, the main way he's able to tell which ones are the ladies is the lack of clothing. He looks from Rey to Jon, and with Jon in his dress whites and Rey in creams and golds… They're basically wearing the same outfit.)
"But he is the sex your wife finds attractive?" The Prima asks, deciding to try it from that angle, rather than asking what exactly it is that Jon does or doesn't have that Rey doesn't or does have.
"Yes."
"And he is also your wife's friend?"
"Also, yes." He mentally winces as he remembers that they don't mean friend the way he means friend.
And they're all staring at him in wonder. And again, Kylo has no idea how to respond to this. Finally, after a few moments of just staring blankly at Rey, he comes up with, "Many, not all, but many humans prefer one mate for life."
"Oh," The Prima's eyes light up in recognition. She's heard of this before. "And you and your woman are two of them?"
"Yes."
"Ah…" The Primo says, looking toward Rey as he takes another sip of his drink. Then he says, "Does it get boring?"
"My wife and I don't find it so."
"It has to severely limit the number of children you can have," the pet chimes in.
"Most humans only have a few children. It's physically possible for a pair to have a child every year or two, but most of them don't," Kylo replies
"Why? A king should have children, many, many children. That's how he keeps his line strong," the pet says.
"We keep our lines strong by having a few children and investing a lot of time, energy, and attention in them. I've been told it also keeps the political infighting to a minimum."
The pets all glance at each other, and Kylo can feel that each one of them is backing a different one of the Primo's sons or grandsons, so… They appear to get his point.
"It cuts down on the cries of favoritism, and makes for a more harmonious home life," Kylo adds.
The Primo smirks. "There is something to be said for a home where no one is fighting."
Kylo nods, intently. "Yes, there is." He thinks about it a bit more, and then adds, "My parents tended to be quarrelsome. I have no wish to repeat that in my own home."
"Ah…" The Primo nods. "Did they… mate for life?"
Kylo blinks. Opens and closes his mouth. That's not a question he's ever contemplated. Though, especially with the idea that they may not have even married… "I… was very young when I left home. I know they often didn't live together, and I know my parents split up before they died. I don't know if they had other mates. They had different interests and goals in life. That was enough to make them quarrelsome. If there was anything else, I didn't know about it."
The Primo nods at that, too. "It is wise to keep children out of the affairs of their parents. At least, while they are children."
"I agree."
"You and your lady do not have any children?" the pet sitting on the Primo's knee says.
"Yet. We do not have any children, yet. We hope to have some soon."
The Kress all share a look. "When is soon? Our nestlings will be joining us in three months!" the Prima replies.
Kylo blinks and realizes that this is a species that doesn't do pregnancy, and he's got them thinking they've also got a climate-controlled room somewhere with their babies cooking away.
"We don't know, yet. Eventually."
"Why not?" One of the high command's women asks.
Kylo doesn't know if the Kress don't consider that a rude question, or if they just don't care. "Among other things, I've been told that it's easier, among humans, to pass down your kingdom to your children if you have a wedding with their mother before they're born." (It's after he's answered that he realizes she was asking why he didn't know when their babies would be joining them, not why didn't they have babies cooking away, yet.)
"You've not yet married your wife?" That has all of the Kress around him looking perplexed. Leaving his woman unattended where anyone could… anything… is already bizarre enough. Wandering about with a woman who isn't even his…
"We married more than a year ago. We've not had a wedding yet. But for many humans it's the wedding that makes it legal or binding or real or whatever, so…" He shrugs that off. "In our faith, we marry first, and have weddings later. How do you do it?"
The Primo smiles at him, and his Prima nuzzles against him with a fond look on her face. "Our weddings are fun."
Kylo smiles and takes another bite of his supper. "I like fun. And the Maji haven't come up with a formal wedding system, yet. So, help me learn more of how people do this getting married thing." He relaxes a little. When the Kress are talking, his job is a lot easier.
The Primo begin, "The first part is waiting for the right time of year. When the Dritths star is bright in the dawn sky of Kre'Ennas, that marks the start of the wedding season. That's a few standard months from now, and two of my grandsons will be going out for their first women then. Suitors will make their plans, gather their closest friends, and strongest supporters. They then chat with the families of the ladies they are interested in, pay the bride price, and then execute the plans. One night, after the star is bright, they'll steal into her family home, fight off the other suitors, and take her to their own home. If a suitor can keep her for three days, she is his. If not, then he cannot try to take her again.
"And the bride price he'd paid her family is forfeit," the Prima adds.
"What happens to the other suitors?" Kylo asks. He's very much sure he's missed several of what are likely important details of how this woman stealing thing works, especially if this is also part of their wedding customs.
The Primo grins. "Depends on how serious they were. Many of them will run off if you show up with enough men. If they don't, usually bruises and broken bones. These days, a wedding raid rarely results in death."
"You've been living with your woman how long?" the Primo's pet asks.
"Almost two years now."
"Beyond married then. Once the suitor has kept his woman three days, he opens his home to a great party, invites her family, friends, and all of his family and friends, too. As much of the town as he can afford to fete," she replies.
Right, rules for how many women you can claim, and how much you've got to be able to afford, and… more status symbols. "We're working on getting the party set. I'm sure an invitation will be coming your way once we've got a date set. If you chose to attend, spend some time with the K'Aran delegation. They have similar traditions to yours, and I have the sense you may get on."
"Excellent." The Primo grins widely. "We shall look forward to helping you capture your bride."
Kylo grins at that, and then shakes his head a bit, "I'm thinking that's unlikely to be part of the celebration. A large number of my allies would find stealing a woman, even one who wants to be stolen, deeply distasteful. Plus, there's something… awkward about stealing a woman from your own home."
"Return her to her father's home for a night?" The Primo suggest, and then looks slightly abashed as he remembers Rey's an orphan.
"That's no longer an option," Kylo says, voice flat, killing the subject.
"Ah." The Primo says, looking a little disappointed at the lack of a good wedding raid.
"You bow to the tastes of others?" the pet asks, having noticed what Kylo said about his allies.
Kylo smirks at that, too. Then he takes another bite of dinner, with his own fingers, and pops it into his own mouth. "I do whatever the hell I want when I want." He nods to Rey off on her own. "Especially in private. But, for show, I've been known to bend to make things easier for all involved." He looks to Rey, who seems to have her dinner companions well in hand. He gently strokes the scar on his face, very much aware of the fact that he carried Rey off on literally his first meeting with her. Though he didn't keep her for three days. "That said, the man who thinks I, or anyone else, is going to carry that woman off and just keep her, is the man who's never met her."
The Primo laughs at that. "Well, it's true that, generally, successful wedding raids involve women who don't exactly struggle when you come for them."
"In the sense that when you came, I lept into your arms, Grytts, and giggled the whole way out of my father's palace."
He gently boops her on the nose. "Hush woman, I carried you off with great bravery and risk to my skin as tradition demands."
"Of course, dear."
As they're breaking up for the night, The Primo pulls Kylo aside. "Just you and I, no one else listening, no one judging. We don't deal with humans much, but… We've had other visitors who are… reticent about taking advantage of our… permissive hospitality. Afraid whispers will get back to their home worlds of… unseemly behavior. I can promise you; we are sensitive to the need for secrecy. All just a mix-up. Your Concubine…"
Kylo rubs his forehead. "Is really just a very close friend." Kylo purses his lips, suddenly understanding the foot dragging on getting Jon his own rooms. Then he gets another layer of it. If the Kress read up on human cultures and paid attention to the mores of the Empire… Of course he'd be keeping anything with Jon quiet. "If a suite of rooms for him doesn't appear between now and us retiring to bed, he'll take my suite, and Rey and I will avail ourselves of the play room."
"Really?" The Primo is literally flatfooted by that. He just… can't imagine it.
"Really."
"Why?" The Primo is staring at Jon, who's walking next to Rey, both of them talking to another Kress. He has his hand on Rey's wrist, and Kylo has very obviously not removed the offending appendage from Jon's body, so… It's clear to the Primo that Jon and Rey have to have a deeply intimate relationship, one that Kylo allows and likely encourages.
The Primo keeps watching them, and Kylo can feel that by dressing Rey in a very similar option to what both he and Jon are wearing, and by carrying her weapon, she's ticking all of the Primo's ideals of male, so he can't for the life of him figure out what the problem with Jon is.
A deeper layer hits. This is not a human. He can't, just by a casual glance, tell the difference between human males and females. The only way he knows to categorize them is by clothing and hair, and right now, Rey's hair is basically indistinguishable from Kylo's, and the outfit she's in looks a whole lot like his and Jon's, and… They've done such a good job making her 'male' by Kress standards, so she'd have the right status here to be understood as her own person, that they've completely borked any ability of the Kress to understand why Kylo isn't into men.
"I'm aware of the fact that Jon is very… pretty… by human male standards, but I'm not interested in him beyond as a very good friend. And, no, I don't know why I don't find human males attractive. I just don't."
The Primo keeps looking between Jon and Rey, and is slowly starting to see the differences. Though mostly he seems to think females are just smaller males. They don't seem that different to him. "We've read… It's a primarily visual attraction, no? It's not a scent thing or something like that."
Kylo doesn't laugh. "Scent can be part of it, but it's primarily, at least at first, a visual attraction. Personality comes into play, as well."
The Primo exudes a sense of feeling like he might be getting a handle on this. "You like your blonde's personality, just not his looks?"
Kylo tries to thread his way through that and fails spectacularly. He can't imagine what his relationship with Jon would look like if Jon were female. He'd like to believe they'd still be warm and close friends if Jon were Jane, but he just has no idea. (Actually, he's got the sense that they wouldn't be close or warm friends because the guilt of genuinely liking someone he might have been attracted to, especially when he and Rey were new, would have just about killed him. And, of course, beyond and above all of that, if Jon had been Jane, they'd have never met because she'd be off working for the House of Frakes making pretty dresses…) Finally, he says, "Yes, I genuinely like Jon. I enjoy being around him. He… doesn't look right to me. Do you… not have friends? People you like being near and spending time with but don't want to have sex with?"
The Primo genuinely considers that for a while, and then says, "I… don't think we do this the same way you do. Usually, if we enjoy each other's personalities, we enjoy each other's bodies, too."
Kylo thinks about that. "That's… as best I know… not how most human cultures work."
The Primo nods; he smiles. (It feels a little odd, and somewhat comforting that this is just as weird to him as it is to Kylo.) Then he looks at Jon and Rey some more. "Just women seems limiting."
"It probably is, but…" He shrugs again, watching Jon and Rey amble along, well aware that just anything isn't how either of them work. And, after a moment, somewhat aware that, if human females were very rare, maybe they'd also adapt to be less interested in looks. But they aren't. And he isn't, so… "I don't feel any issues with it. It's not a source of displeasure or discontent. It just is how I am. I like female humans, and Rey above all others."
"Humans are weird about sex."
"You'd be amazed at how often I hear variations on that sentiment."
The Primo laughs at that. "We'll take care of your arrangements. Have that after-dinner drink and reconnoiter. By the time you're ready for bed, your Grand Marshall will have rooms commiserate with his rank."
"Thank you."