Kav'eth's flush deepens. "Nereidan pair bonding practices differ significantly from human customs."
"That's not an answer."
"Personal romantic experiences are not relevant to the assessment process."
"They're absolutely relevant to the assessment process," I say. "If you've never been in a relationship, how are you supposed to evaluate whether we'd be good in one together?"
Kav'eth goes very still. "I am conducting this assessment according to established scientific protocols."
"You can't scientifically protocol your way through a relationship," I point out. "Relationships are messy and emotional and unpredictable. You can't just run tests and measure whether two people are going to work as partners."
"Scientific methodology provides objective measurement of compatibility factors," Kav'eth insists.
"Does it? Because from where I'm sitting, you look like someone who's never been on a date trying to figure out if we'd be good at dating." I lean forward, studying his carefully controlled expression. "Which, honestly, might be the most ridiculous thing about this whole situation."
"My personal experience is not relevant—"
"It's completely relevant," I interrupt. "If this is supposed to be about whether we could work as life partners, don't you think your ability to actually be in a partnership matters?"
Kav'eth doesn't respond to that, but I can see something shifting behind his carefully controlled expression.
"So how does this work, exactly?" I continue. "Do we just... hang out for three days and see if we fall in love? Because I have to tell you, kidnapping someone isn't usually the best foundation for a relationship."
"The assessment follows established protocols," Kav'eth says, back to his formal tone. "We will engage in structured social interactions, shared experiences, and compatibility evaluation activities designed to assess partnership potential."
"Structured social interactions." I almost smile despite everything. "You mean dates. Alien dates to see if we're compatible for alien marriage."
The blue flush returns to Kav'eth's skin, deeper this time. "The terminology is... not inaccurate."
"So you're going to take me on alien dates to see if we're compatible for alien marriage, even though you clearly have no idea how dating works and I was literally kidnapped for this." I lean back, looking at the ceiling. "My life has become a really bizarre reality show."
"The circumstances are... irregular," Kav'eth admits.
"Irregular is one word for it." I look at him again, taking in his perfect posture, his formal attire, the careful way he holds himself like he's afraid of being too human. "Can I ask you something else?"
"You may."
"Are you actually interested in finding a life partner, or is this just another job assignment for you?"
For a long moment, Kav'eth doesn't answer. He sits there with perfect posture, staring at his carefully folded hands, and I can see something shifting behind his controlled expression.
"The partnership program represents an important opportunity for my people," he says finally. "My personal... preferences are secondary to the success of the program."
"That's not what I asked."
"It is the only answer I can provide."
I study his face, noting the careful neutrality that doesn't quite hide something more complicated underneath.
"You don't actually want to be here, do you?
This whole thing, the assessment, the potential partnership, all of it, you're doing it because someone told you to, not because you want to find a relationship. "
"My duty to my people—"
"Is not the same thing as wanting to find love," I finish. "Got it. So I'm being evaluated as a potential life partner by someone who doesn't actually want a life partner. That's... actually kind of hilarious."
Kav'eth's expression becomes carefully neutral again. "The assessment will proceed according to established parameters regardless of personal preferences."
"Right. Because nothing says 'successful relationship' like ignoring personal preferences and following established parameters.
" I lean forward, genuinely curious now.
"So what happens if this assessment goes well?
If we're somehow magically compatible despite the fact that you don't want to be here and I was kidnapped?
Do we just... get married and hope for the best? "
"If the assessment indicates positive compatibility, formal bonding arrangements would be... negotiated."
"Negotiated," I repeat. "Like a business deal."
"Like a mutually beneficial partnership agreement."
I stare at him. "That's the least romantic thing I've ever heard. And I once had a guy ask me to sign a workout partnership contract before our first date."
"Romance is not a primary consideration in Nereidan pair bonding," Kav'eth says stiffly.
"Maybe that's part of your problem," I say. "Maybe that's why your population is declining, because you've turned relationships into business transactions instead of, you know, actually caring about each other."
Kav'eth goes very still, and for a moment I think I've pushed too far. Then he says, quietly, "Perhaps you are not entirely incorrect."
The admission hangs in the air between us, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I feel like I'm talking to an actual person instead of a formal representative of an alien government.
"Well," I say eventually. "At least we're both honest about how weird this is."
"Indeed," Kav'eth agrees, and there might be the faintest hint of humor in his voice.
I look around the sterile alien apartment, at this blue-skinned diplomat who clearly wishes he was anywhere else, and try to figure out how the hell I'm going to survive the next three days of alien speed dating.
"So," I say, because someone has to break the silence. "When do these structured social interactions start? Please tell me they involve some kind of physical activity, because if I have to sit still much longer, I'm going to start doing push-ups right here on your designer alien floor."
Kav'eth checks something on his wrist, some kind of device I hadn't noticed before. "The first shared meal period begins in approximately thirty minutes. I will return to escort you to the dining facility."
"And until then?"
"You may... acclimate to your quarters. The synthesizer can provide basic refreshments if you require sustenance."
He stands, smoothing down his formal attire. "I must review the assessment protocols before we begin. I will return shortly."
"Kav'eth," I call as he heads toward the door. He stops and turns back. "Thanks. For being honest, I mean. About this being weird for you too."
Something flickers across his features, surprise, maybe, or recognition. "You are... welcome."
"And just so you know," I add, grinning, "if we're going to be doing this whole dating thing, you're going to have to loosen up a little. Most humans don't respond well to formal diplomatic protocols during romantic interactions."
"I will... take that under advisement," Kav'eth says, and I swear there's the hint of a real smile on his face.
The door slides shut behind him, leaving me alone in the perfect, soulless apartment that's apparently designed for alien courtship.
I settle back onto the couch, looking around at the sterile luxury surrounding me.
Three days of alien dating with a diplomat who's never been in a relationship and doesn't actually want one.
Three days of proving that we could somehow work as life partners despite having absolutely nothing in common.
Three days of the most bizarre courtship experience in human history.
This should be interesting.
At least now I understand what I'm dealing with. This isn't about species cooperation or cultural exchange, it's about whether Kav'eth and I could actually work as partners. As a couple. As whatever the alien equivalent of marriage is.
And weirdly, that makes me feel both better and worse about the whole thing. Better because the stakes are personal rather than representing all of humanity. Worse because... well, because I'm supposed to fall in love with someone who was assigned to evaluate me as a potential spouse.
No pressure at all.
Time to show this skeptical alien diplomat that humans might be more adaptable than he thinks. And maybe that relationships can be about more than just compatibility metrics and formal partnerships.
Starting with whatever romantic dinner he's planning for our first official date.
This is either going to go very well or very badly.
But at least it won't be boring. And maybe, just maybe, I can convince him that there's more to partnership than following protocols.
Even if I have to do push-ups in the alien bathroom to maintain my sanity while I try.