He didn't feel touch in quite the same way other people did; he'd asked microsurgeons to remove a lot of pain and even a few pleasure receptors from his body long ago, telling himself that it was a safe and wise move to allow himself endurance. He hadn't accounted for certain things in that equation, he now realized - just because the touch itself wasn't sending the same signals didn't mean that when you saw it your brain didn't kick into chemical overdrive, causing the same damn problems it always caused. Like that slight feeling of lightheadedness or that urgency and instinctual possessiveness, and he had always said that humans were designed poorly, too much animal getting in the way of sound thought.

But this wasn't them, his logical brain said sagely. This was the damn park, and he had a mind to burn it down and use the remains as wood chips for a Coruscant playground, violent as he was feeling toward it. And he would if only she could stop touching and squirming like that and....

The question prompted something that might have actually been a laugh as he backed her up slowly toward the far end of them room where he normally slept. Not that any of the makeshift beds here were exactly fit for palaces, but she would probably appreciate some sort of padding if she were what? If she were what? Are you insane? "Yer luck seems ter be holdin', me beauty." Boots, had to get rid of the boots.