The three-fingered hand was really nothing at all strange to Rich. He'd shaken appendages with way weirder individuals than Donnie. That was what happened when you rubbed elbows with all kinds of mutants and aliens (some of whom had tentacles) and were friends with intelligent, telepathic, Russian cosmonaut dogs. (Cosmo really did love to shake paws).

"Don't mind any of these morons. If being one of the only 'lowly pink apes' at all the big space shindigs back home has taught me anything it's that every species wants to think they're the biggest fish in the pond -- and there's always something bigger out there."

He nodded to the rest of the party.

"I've met celestial beings that'd see all these people as just...bugs. Big ol' bugs. If that. You deal with heavy hitters like that hoping you don't give them enough of an itch that they pay attention to you."

He held out his hands slightly.

"There's a whole scale." He paused. "But rather than that meaning nothing matters as far as what people get up to in advancing themselves, I think it's the opposite. The ones that never look at other people like they're lesser -- or like they're bugs -- they're the most advanced. Doesn't matter what level of tech they have, either, what matters is what they do with it."

That was his working theory, anyway.