Mar could totally sympathize with the 'fewer friends' part.

"Without intending offense to your culture," Mar mused, "I would like to voice the opinion that any system of social class that requires cutting someone open to determine where they belong in said system should be viewed with healthy skepticism at best. Olive, huh?"

He glanced in the direction of her wrists, then shook himself mentally for his foolishness. Even if her veins were visible beneath her skin, who knew how olive blood and greyish skin would combine to reflect a color back? And he certainly didn't want to see it any other way, so he'd settle for living in mild curiosity.