albinomilksnake | STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

[Unfortunately for the both of them, privacy is a luxury neither of them can afford. The soldiers still require attention (losing Starkiller Base is an obvious wound, but giving no routine, daily address is equatable to visibly flinching) and between the three granted power beneath Snoke, only Hux is suited for the task.

That, and the fact that Phasma refused to take on dragging the General from his seclusion, citing her own issues with reforming and restructuring the standards their troops operate by.

So he's there, just beyond the polished doors of Hux's given quarters, impatient in both posture and duty as he opts to rap gloved knuckles against them, not bothering with the intercom left specifically for announcements. Shifts, shadowed eyes flicking back and forth as he exhales harshly through his nose.

He doesn't regret crippling his compatriot's already damaged pride, but he does dislike the idea of cleaning up after it.]

[As soon as the doors had closed behind him, he'd tried settling in to routine deep breaths drawn in and out, tried quieting his mind, and even focusing on other things when emptiness didn't work. There's too much noise involved in being an intelligent, rational being right now, so instead of wasting precious time lingering on meditations that wouldn't help right now, he strips down completely bare. Lets the cool of the carefully controlled environment sink through all the sweat and heat radiating off his skin, manifestations of his stress that clung to him like a weight.

The shower that follows is brief but effective in helping him reset. A clean uniform makes him feel new again.

He's just pulling his shirt onto his shoulders when there's a knock on the door. There's two guesses of who it could be and neither guess deters him from answering without being fully dressed. The level of Do Not Care is something he needs right now, so he decides to let it in.

He taps away on a control panel near him, and the door to his quarters open as he carries on with buttoning himself up, only glancing over at Kylo for enough time to know that it's him there, not Phasma.]

Here to apologize so soon? [He knows that's not it, but it's the first response that pops out and he can't resist poking a bear.]

If your patience allows it, I'll be ready in a moment. [You're welcome to wait, hatred aside.]

[Kylo says nothing, but the way his lip peels back to displace the scar running across his face is more telling than he could otherwise be. As long as they've served together, as often as they've relied-- even if only indirectly-- on one another, it's rare for casual, unguarded interaction to be set down as an option. Necessary as it is now, he isn't any more fond of it.

Particularly with his own, excised weakness leaving behind too much scar tissue.

Still, he stalks inside, pointedly ignoring Hux's current state, his own shoulders hunched forward as if he's somehow tracking prey; wholly incapable of settling.] Snoke wants to be sure you're still capable of fulfilling your duties.

[Which is a lie, but a more palatable course of action than admitting he'd prefer no backlash should Hux turn to isolation and dismay.]

[There's a small sound, something that could have been a laugh if he had any sort of joy within him, but it's deformed by spite and displeasure at the weakness that kind of statement implies. He steps back into the attached bath for a moment to towel some more moisture out of his hair before returning, hair hanging around his face as he straightens out his sleeves to button the cuffs.]

He has every reason to doubt at this juncture but I have it within me to regain his confidence.

[With every single step of getting dressed it's clear how Just So everything must be before he moves on to the next step, but it's so routine that he does it all with swift efficiency. This too helps him regain a hold on his sense of self, because it helps him reestablish the pride he takes in his appearance. The process cements how important his head-to-toe presentation makes all the difference in his confidence.]

Are you going to babysit me for him? I really don't think you're qualified for that.

Would you prefer I ask Captain Phasma? [He's found one of the plush, military couches laid out in the other room, settling in as if he belongs: elbows across his knees, dark hair disheveled and drawn across his brow. Hux is, if anything, punctual to a fault, but that doesn't mean he's quick to dress himself, or right the flaws in his appearance.

Considering the frayed, punched-in hemlines of his own robes, the two couldn't be more opposite if they tried.] Or perhaps your father could be persuaded to join us.

[He's meant to be facilitating common ground between them; he's also (shamefully) failing.]

[His back is turned to Ren when he says that, and he's thankful for it because of the lack of dignity in the way his face scrunches up before he can right himself. But, at least he had a functional relationship with his family, so it only takes a moment for him to brush it off, run his hands through his hair to lay flat out of his face - the final touch - and turn to face his company again.]

I'd rather waste your time proving you wrong.

[He procures his holopad and flips through things necessary for his next message to the troops, all while striding out of his quarters now with purpose. Doesn't even glance behind to see if his company is following along.]

Edited 2016-01-07 09:02 (UTC)

I admire your tenacity, General. [Said from just beyond Hux's shoulder (he's there - of course he's there) with a certain sharpness that seems to emphasize the exact opposite.

Still, in a way, he does admire Hux's ability to bend without breaking after the catastrophic collapse of their greatest advantage. Damaged pride, fractured faith - all of it should be tearing him to the palest point of himself; instead he's here, striding forward without fear. It's the same as how Ren admired FN-2187's boldness in battle, and Rey's raw, untrained proficiency with the Force.

It doesn't equate to much, but it is something.]

[That gets little from him except a brief "hm" sound, too focused on gather and rearranging data into a rough outline on his datapad to be bothered with some sort of remark.

He strides out to a balcony overlooking one of the hangar bays, where many of the troops are still - checking supply inventory, tending to those with minor wounds, getting those still shuttling in with more serious injuries onto stretchers so they can get medical care immediately. A few simple taps and he's broadcasting to those who are busy with work in other parts of the ship.

The address goes over the losses that occurred, painted with words that honor the lives lost and inspire thoughts of vengeance against the Resistance. It's with a different kind of passion than what the address on Starkiller Base had, but with nothing less than the same amount brought forth and echoed outward to ring in the hall of the ship and the hearts of every stormtrooper there. He speaks of how they will not waver in the wake of disaster but press onward until the unchecked chaos needling its way through the galaxy is brought to an end.

They will be the beacon that the lost turn their eyes towards in the darkest pits of space.

Moments like these brought him the greatest sense of inspiration under duress, even if he was the orator, not the audience. Perhaps it was because speaking was something that was so focused on one united emotion, and he could focus all of his own into that versus the level of carefully maintained conduct and leadership involved everywhere else.

It's clear as he closes it off and dismisses everyone to return their focus back to their responsibilities that he's found himself again. There are still shadows lurking but they aren't ruling him like they were back in walls of the vast hall where they spoke to the Supreme Leader. There's a look over to Ren before he starts off again to his next responsibility.]

[Which is perhaps why Ren is quick to stop him from continuing his given tasklist, stepping pointedly in front of the General's path in the middle of a narrow, dropping corridor once the matter of his speech has been seen to. Still and squared-off from the sharpness of his stare to the set of his broad shoulders beneath their cloak; quiet, though that isn't uncharacteristic of the apprentice in general.] You seem better.

[It's an attempt at broaching conversation - or perhaps successfully making amends the way he failed to earlier. He knows-- just as he's always known, in spite of their inability to see eye-to-eye-- that there is truth in his galvanizing speeches. That they are intended to be a machine devoted to the galaxy, bringing order where none exists, guided by the Supreme Leader's hand. So long as the events that led to Starkiller's collapse are a bitter, open wound, they stand little chance against overwhelming chaos.]

[After earlier, he doesn't find the thought of having a conversation with Ren very entertain (though when has ever). Even if those events were entirely instigated by his own pride, and especially because honestly the taunting he had received had actually helped him to reset.

He would never admit that Ren, who was so notorious for his tantrums, had helped him on an emotional level.

So, he gets A Look and Hux decides to be the efficient cog, multitasking what he can on the datapad.]

Amazing, that a brain can chemically re-balance itself.

Fascinating, if nothing else. [Offhanded, objective to the last emotionless consonant. It paints the image of someone willing to test those limits, possibly on his own conversational partner-- though if he does, he chooses not to act on it.

So there they stand: immovable in their unwillingness to concede any codependency, any benefit to one another's presence, but aware of it none the less. He feels that much without the Force thrumming in his veins, whispering of what lies in Hux's convoluted little skull. A maze of rules and consequences, of appearances and their significance to the universe, not just his own reflection.

He's calmer now; his wounds have healed, and for all his exhaustion he is...changed. Perhaps it is not so unbelievable to think that for all their missteps, Snoke has made no mistake in leaving them to their own devices. Which is why his next question is so direct, so blunt, that it might as well come with the courtesy of a punch to the stomach.]

Knowing what you do: you blame me for Starkiller's destruction?

[He takes it about as well as he'd take a punch to the stomach, which is with a good amount of resilience of face actually, but he does flinch, expression going from snarky detachment to a tightly clenched grimace. The blow, like some, is unstoppable. It's how it's processed that is controlled, adapted to.

Honesty is the only thing he has to give in return, and perhaps it's a question that Ren already knows the answer to so what would there be to gain from denying it?]

I do.

Why. [He needs to know. Needs to hear it from Hux's barely useful mouth while he still has it in him to stopper the flow of his own vitriol. Because he knows were their tasks-- their places-- switched, the General would have been decimated in a matter of seconds. Because it was his charge that betrayed the Order and assaulted Captain Phasma, that led the Rebellion to the only weakness Starkiller possessed that would save them from their own desperate, dying thrashing. In that, he feels more secure, even if the events that transpired are...

--were haunting.]

You said that FN-2187 was with the scavenger - if his allegiance to her goes back to the events on Jakku then I see the result as this: If you had brought back the droid, they might have still tried to pursue the same plan regarding the destruction of Starkiller Base. The key difference is that the manpower you had to use to track down an escaped Force User [his face scrunches up more, even if it was his own word choice] could have been redirected to properly defend against the attack.

[He refuses to not let Ren bear part of the blame. He knows that FN-2187 played a large role in its destruction and for that connection he does hold responsibility, but it's just so fixed in his mind that this whole ordeal was a byproduct of an emotionally stunted man's poor decisions.]

Compassion was a known trait in FN-2187 before he defected, and you brought one of his people into our house. Of course he would bring the fight to our door. Surely, with your abilities, you must have felt that somehow. [so much salt, so salty]

And was it not your men that were supposedly equipped to deal with FN-2187, the wreckage of our stolen fighter and return one small, supposedly inconsequential droid? [It was, after all, his ability to strip the resistance pilot to the bone using the Force that has yielded results; it was Hux that assured him he would deal with it. Kylo Ren's stare stays level, but he works his jaw for a beat before adding:] The droid that I was later informed had 'stolen a freighter', making our raid a necessary course of action.

[His face turns red, lips tense as he takes in all the accusation and tries to figure out how to counter. Tries really hard.

Droids stealing freighters. The way that whole situation had been worded was ridiculous.]

FN-2187 was one of our most talented cadets. It was greatly underestimated how much the loss of him to the enemy would affect us, and yes - [his free hand, resting at his side, balls into a fist, a shaky inward breath taken as he processes the gravity of the words to come out of his mouth next.]

I am to be held responsible for that.

Good. [His dark eyes flick up, down towards how Hux is drawn so tightly around himself again, feeling out the depths of that temper without relying on the Force to reaffirm what he already knows. He encroaches no further.] If we are to bring order, General, we must exact our vengeance.

And if we are to do that, the mistakes we once permitted to fester can no longer be entertained.

[His weakness, Hux's short-sightedness: all of it had to be overcome. The pain of Han Solo's death may not have brought power, but it did, at least, bring clarity alongside the ache deep down in his ribs. Perhaps coexistence was not so impossible an idea.

The only peace offering Kylo Ren could ever extend. Mutual contempt, paralleled passion.]

[It infuriates him how much someone like Kylo, with his destructive fits and temper, can appear so in control. That if he needed to reach out for something to hold onto if the ground gave way below, the thing most stable in this moment was a powder keg of ancient mysticism and the coping mechanisms of a child.

But he was right- and he hated that, but if they were to have any measure of success he'd have to let those emotions take a backseat. For what mattered, for what the galaxy needed them to do. For what they needed to do.]

Then let's not waste any time. What did you have in mind, Ren? [The closest thing to Hux saying "I accept."]

[What he wanted was for Hux to stop needling him at every available opportunity while he sweats out the last of his wounds to keep from hatefully decimating what's left of the Supreme Leader's forces - now that he's actually managed it, though...

Kylo Ren's eyebrows lift by more than bare degrees; his expression is practically transparent.

He has no idea.]

[There's a moment where all Hux can do is stare. Disbelief, followed quickly by annoyance as he brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Even shakes his head.

Like many that had come before it, this was going to be a long day.]

All of that, and you have nothing?

[His features darken considerably, tense from his shoulders downwards as he bristles defensively in the face of being questioned.] I was deferring to your judgment.

[He wasn't.]

We're far from prepared to strike back at the Resistance just yet. Whatever must be done on site before Snoke calls on me to fulfill my training is your area of expertise, not mine.

[You know what that gets, Kylo?

A big fat HA.

Right in your face.

Once that's out of his system, eyes closed, he takes in a breath and goes right back to his usual carriage, but perhaps with a few more hints of smugness than before. That was satisfying to see.]

If that is the case, then perhaps it would do you well to become more familiar with how things operate beyond the lost and found. [Nailed it. High fives self. Or, you know, he would if he was the high fiving type.]

[If Hux dares to be so childish as to snort out his own amusement, then Ren opts to do the same-- only instead of grinning, he scowls, expression contorted by bitter contempt. His hands are still at his sides, fingers curled so sharply the joints are strained against bone.

Inevitably the weight of the Force soon grips Hux's every muscle with startling clarity. It isn't painful in spite of the fact that it could be, but it is enough to leave him entirely frozen: effectively at Kylo Ren's nonexistent mercy.

~~He sees what's in your mind and it is STUPID~~.]

[~~What, do you have something against high-fives, Kylo? Uncle Luke not a big fan of them for some reason? I wonder why...~~

He should feel some sense of fear at what being in this situation implies, but he knows how Ren's fits work. That and if he were being honest, Hux could see that he considered the usefulness each person had to offer and only snuffed out a life when that usefulness had run its course. He liked to believe that Ren could still see the importance of his role in the Order, so while this moment threatened his life, it was also far from over.

So, the look he gets is still that one of smug laughter from moments before.

Are you going to keep wasting our time?]

[Snuffing out a life is an option not hastily resorted to, it's true. A problem that proves doubly true for the trifecta that sits in power at the core of the First Order: Snoke would be...displeased were he to excise General Hux like an infection from a wound.

~~Which is what he is. A nuisance. A problem. A man with a stupid face.~~

Injury, on the other hand...] Perhaps you're right.

[One brief twist of his wrist grinds the Force down, bears it into Hux's left shoulder, digging at the nerves there for only half a second-- unpleasant, but not intolerable. It's a slap on the wrist as far as Snoke's apprentice is concerned.] Show me.

[His arms fold against the small of his own back, chin lifting.] Show me what it is you do that is so valuable.

STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

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