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"So wait, are you...a carnivore?" Gordon asks, as he draped over the couch in his thinking way, letting tinny kirby music be his background music. Benrey relaxed in a similar manner, focused on a GBA and hunched over it an almost painfully looking amount. "Like, what's going on with...that." He was thinking really hard about the non-human's teeth and what makes him run. Him being an alien from Xen, or at least one that could thrive on that planet, but appearing as a featherless biped got his inquisitive-inquiring sciencey mind pondering. He didn't even expect an answer, Benrey didn't like to talk about himself, even hesitated giving his name to the point of misunderstanding at first, but he aired the thought anyways.
It just baffled him that someone could have the teeth of a piranha and then mostly eat bread products...he heard Benrey suck up and receive a power-up, the peace of another presence and the soft sounds of activity making every breath he took feel more and more relaxed. Even the kirby music was nice, attributing to his nodding off, as fast paced as it was. Benrey sniffed, interrupting it. "Nah I got, uhh, flat ones in the back. Behind the good ones."
"Oh, molars?" Gordon chucked absently, providing him with that piece of vocabulary. A beat, and Gordon thought, wait, what did he just say? He shot up, ignoring the twinge in his upper back and practically pounced on Benrey. Later, he'd be ashamed to admit it, but he put his hand on the gamer's chin and opened his mouth, surprisingly loose and pliable. Behind the pointy sharp mountains he'd put on display many times were nice rows of flat, normal looking teeth. He raised his eyebrows and Benrey made a small sound of distress, probably. Gordon flushed at his impulse and released him. "Holy shit, I'm sorry," he says, spitting it out with a bit of stumbling tongue.
"S'ok," Benrey replies, and looks at the screen, flowing back into gaming as natural as a capybara in water, no sign of surprise in him. Gordon fell back into his position of hanging-off-the-couch again, hoping to stem the heat in his cheeks, the burning shame. Little molars, he thought, just like him.