Kylo lifts a fiery hand in surprisingly polite rejection— he's fine without the imaginary drugs, thank you, but he can recognise that it's kind to have offered. He considers her question.

There's a lot that happened to make him the way he is, but probably?

"I was born this way," he offers, amending after a moment: "Not... physically. This... is the way I made myself here. A representation."

He could change it, probably, if he wanted, but he quite likes the physical manifestation of his inner torment the way it is. For Kylo Ren, this is having a good time at a party: being a visible nuisance, inconveniently impossible to ignore. He examines his intoxicated interrogator curiously in turn.

"What happened to you?"