He has, though he doesn't think Jedao's really looking for an answer. He's walked through them, kicked up by his passage and drifting up around him in a suffocating gray cloud in the aftermath of battle, the charred remnants of one more civilization sifting onto his armor, his skin, clogging his nose and stinging his eyes before he put his helmet back on. A charred remnant, the aftermath of annihilation.

He cups a hand at the back of Jedao's head as he kisses him back, and doesn't let himself taste ashes.

"Did you go to dinner?" he asks softly, rather than anything else he might say, keeping the bitterness out of his voice. His anger at Skywalker and Ford and, to a lesser extent, Bill won't accomplish anything. "I didn't see you the couple times I was out of the kitchen."