Then allow me to congratulate you on your enlightenment-- and your success. [There's so much vitriol in it when Ren sets his teeth to the syllables that it's nearly tangible, air between them unnaturally heavy - the cleanest shift between feigned indifference and barely contained enmity. Pressure not from his own hands (they're still hanging passively at his sides) bears down to pry Hux's fingertips from their current task.

The Force is nothing if not driving.] Your program finally produced a capable soldier.

[One capable of facilitating nearly every major catastrophe suffered since his initial defection.]