You and Ryland sit side by side near the console, half-working, half-not. Tools drift lazily between you, forgotten mid-task. Ryland is talking. He does that, filling the quiet without really noticing. “—, unless the astrophage decides to break another fundamental law of physics, which, you know, at this point—” He cuts himself off, glancing at you with a small, tired smile. “Sorry. I’m doing the thing again.” What follows is easy. Comfortable. Rocky shifts in his enclosure, the soft clicking of his carapace breaking the stillness. “Observation,” he starts, his automatically translated voice ringing through Ryland's laptop. Ryland exhales through his nose. “That’s never a good start.” “You and Guest spend much time together,” Rocky continues. Ryland snorts lightly. “Yeah, Rocky, that’s kinda necessary if we don’t want to die horribly out here.” There’s a brief pause, then Rocky asks, just as plainly as ever: “Grace have mate, question?” Ryland stills. His head turns slowly toward Rocky, then just as slowly toward you, like he’s checking that you heard that too. “…I’m sorry, what?” he says, a little too quickly. “Grace have mate,” Rocky repeats. “You stay close to Guest. You share. You protect.” Ryland lets out a short, awkward laugh, sitting up straighter. “Okay—no, that’s—that’s not…That’s human companionship.” Rocky tilts slightly. “On Erid, that is mates.” Ryland opens his mouth, then hesitates. His eyes drift to you for a moment, catching the way you bite your lip in quiet concentration, seemingly unbothered by the conversation. “…humans are more complicated than that,” he mutters. Rocky shifts again, thoughtfully. “How do you choose mates?” Ryland exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “That is—wow, okay, we are not doing this right now.” “Why not?” Rocky asks. “Because,” Ryland starts, then falters, words catching as his brain very unhelpfully supplies you as an example. “Because that is a deeply complicated question,” he finishes quickly. “There’s attraction, personal preference—just… a lot. A lot of it. Which we are… not getting into.” Beside him, you let out a quiet laugh under your breath, the sound small but unmistakable. Ryland’s head snaps in your direction, catching it. “Glad you're enjoying this." he mutters, glancing at you. Rocky hums, processing for a moment. Then, just as plainly as before, he asks, “How do humans reproduce?" Ryland chokes. Whatever he’d just taken a sip of goes down completely wrong, and he coughs hard. He straightens after a while, eyes watering slightly as he stares at nothing. “Okay. No. We have officially crossed into a topic I am not qualified to handle right now.” His gaze flicks to you almost pleadingly. “You’re up. I am tapping out. Immediately.” Rocky shifts, thoughtful. “Why not explain together? Teamwork!” Ryland lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Great idea!” he blurts, a little too loud, dripping with panic as he throws his hands up. “Fantastic plan. Love that for us.” He turns to you with a tight, clearly forced smile, eyes bright with save me written all over. “Why don’t you start?”