Kylo Ren turned toward the Doctor and looked him over. He looked as he supposed he should have, despite not being in his full regalia and rather stripped down into what he now thought of his usual working clothes. A pair of dark trousers that were growing more and more worn by the day, heavy boots, and a tight t-shirt or tank top to slick away sweat from the heat of the island.
"And you must be the Doctor," he returned and gave a nod of his head. His tone was so flat, so drone-like, but he tried to at least look pleased to see the man. He was, somewhere inside that struggling dark heart of his. There was a tight, ever so faint smile, before an electric current of displeasure ran up his spine.
That voice.
Ugh.
And stars, how tiny. Kylo Ren was not sure she would be of use at all.