"I'm not hurt," he assured.

He felt no bodily needs, being suffused with her; but he knew intellectually that he hadn't hydrated since they passed something ritualistically around in the shuttle, and that was dangerously insufficient. "I should probably drink something."

The corners of his eyes gently crinkled in the kind of smile he didn't do for a purpose; only for her. "And maybe shower. I feel like I've been spit out by a mynock." He looked down with open disgust at the Imperial trousers. "Can one get clothes, here?"