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Hux isn’t sure how things ever got this bad. He normally is so very, very careful. He plans things, he comes up with redundancies, double redundancies, contingencies upon contingencies.
And yet. Disaster finds a way to sneak in through the gaps you breathe in.
This should not have happened. It has happened. Now he can either wonder why, deny, or he can survive.
Hux chooses the latter.
His blaster is in his ungloved hand mere moments after the fracas hits, but it seems he’s being overly hasty. His eyes are drawn to the magnificent form, black-swirls like living shadows - as his Knight goes from staid to strident in a single breath.
Hux still holds onto his weapon, though there’s no need for it. Kylo’s lifted left hand freezes blaster-bolts in mid-air, and then hurls them back towards the very muzzles that fired them. A few screams curdle the air, and then he launches into red-light spirals of certain death.
One person flies across the room, propelled only by Ren’s will, and smacks into three others, taking all four to the ground. The firepower all concentrates on him, and he doesn’t take a single shot as he slices people in two, or explodes their own weapon right in their hands.
It’s… eerily beautiful, chaotic, and fractal. It’s like watching ice form on the viewscreen: spiralling outwards, following patterns, but nothing predictable. You understand the why after, not predict it before.
Blood, char, piss and fear hit his nostrils, and Hux slips his blaster away. If any survive, he wants them to know he didn’t need it.
He wants them to know Hux doesn’t even need to defend himself.
Kylo is more than capable. Hux is, too, but Kylo is that bit faster. And there’s no harm in letting the man save him, oh no. It means he gets to watch the beauty of his training devastating the enemy.
And yes, he’s turned on. Who wouldn’t be, after that display of prowess? No one with a pulse, anyway.