“Whoa,” said the space emperor. “What evolutionary pressures led to your species developing so many breasts?”
“It’s a congenital anomaly,” the dancer replied coldly. “My planet was used for imperial weapons testing.”
The space emperor recoiled so quickly that his chair nearly nipped backwards. “Oh.” He swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The dancer flipped their hair over their shoulder and shrugged with an impressive jiggle. The bells on each of their nipples chimed softly. “Eh. Don’t be. Ain’t like it’s your fault.”
“It is though! It is!” He jumped to his feet, clutching his scalp as though he might tear out his own brains. “It’s all me—all of it! It’s all blood on my hands!”
The dancer, who had startled back at the sudden violence of his outburst, now glanced at Iden. The Lutoyan smiled wanly in apology and flashed them a thumbs up before taking the space emperor by the elbow and leading him back to his seat.
“Sorry about that,” said Iden, patting the trembling man’s back. “He’s… um. Trying out some new meds...? It’s fine. We’re fine.”
“I’m a genocidal maniac!” the space emperor sobbed into Iden’s shoulder.
