Kylo's brow furrows further at Murphy's response, though the outright hostility he carries in his face begins to melt back into the tension of enduring pain that it was sculpted from. Confusion might be the best word to describe the resulting expression— Kylo's never met a human who can't speak Basic. He hasn't ever met one with blood that colour either, though admittedly he hasn't always paid that much attention. His enemies don't tend to bleed much.

He sags slightly against the console as Murphy approaches.

Closer up, the border between the parts of the starfighter within the radius of Kylo's efforts to survive planetfall and those beyond it becomes starkly evident. Lucky doesn't begin to cover it. Kylo is also, despite his injuries, quite a bit bigger than he might appear from further back.

"Here," Kylo directs, the wet edge to his voice suggesting some kind of internal injury. Frankly, the kind of pressure wave that must have ripped through the craft to leave it in this state should have pulverised every last one of his organs, and yet...

"Put it... put it here."