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Kylo Ren was, to say the least, exhausted. Another night of vague, undescribable, dark, and horrific Force visions had robbed him of any restful sleep. And in the day following he had personally lead a raid on an old Resistance base, deserted since before the construction of the first Death Star- a potential clue to Skywalker’s whereabouts had been rumored to be hidden inside.
It had been, of course, a dead end. Hours of searching had resulted in no new information. Kylo ached, eyes feeling heavy and gritty. Worse still, he could not sleep yet. He could feel Hux’s annoyance every time Kylo retreated to his quarters early to make up for lost sleep. Hux regarded it as a lack of control on Kylo’s part, that he could not resist taking a nap, like a child. And while Kylo did not value Hux’s opinion on much, it still grated on his nerves to feel that touch of misplaced superiority the next time they interacted.
So Kylo embraced what was becoming a bit of a habit on the days where he could not bring himself to stay attentive. There were many hallways on the Finalizer, and rarely did Hux move beyond the corridors between the officer’s mess, his quarters, the bridge, or the conference room that come to serve as the holochannel to Snoke. Everywhere else was safe from the General’s stern eye. So Kylo went to the Engineering decks and picked a nice hallway, a viewport taking up one wall, showing the sloping edges of the Star Destroyer and the vast emptiness of deep space.
When no ‘troopers were in the hallway, Kylo laid down, adjusted his cowl and robes, and closed his eyes.
Though Hux remained ignorant of Kylo’s sleeping habits, the troopers did not have that luxury. The two white-armored stormtroopers looked at the near shapeless blob of dark cloth that was, in consciousness, the terrifying Master of the Knights of Ren. The shadowy figure wouldn’t even look humanoid except for the one leg that was extended away from his body- the rest pulled into a curled lump. The shorter ‘trooper spoke first:
“Should we wake him?” KT-1573, Odds, whispered to her companion.
“No way, he’d probably kill us!” KT-0040, Four, replied. “Besides, I heard FN-2003 tried to wake him once. He said Ren got real mad then did his magic Force control thing so that 2003 went straight to Phasma and told her he was an idiot. And Ren went right back to sleep!”
Odds did not want to tell Phasma that she, too, was an idiot for waking Kylo Ren.
“So we just. Leave him?” Odds asked, her mask tilting as she observed the robes shifted, lifting as Ren breathed deeply, sighed in his sleep, his vocoder spitting static in response. Beneath her mask, Odd’s brow furrowed. “That doesn’t seem beneficial,”
Four shrugged, the shoulder pieces on their armor clicking against the chestplate. “I’m not going to wake him.” They walked by, keeping to the far side of the hallway from the pile of Knight.
Odds watched for a moment longer, thought up a plan, then headed to the requisitions office.
Kylo woke some time later. Warm and comfortable despite the gentle ache in his back from sleeping on the floor. A quick pass of his mind through the sector insured that no one else was around- the closest being a pair of TIE pilots coming to check on repairs to their ships.
Kylo moved to stretch- to awaken his body from his nap- only to find his arms were tangled in his robes which, really made no sense considering he left his arms bare and certainly did not feel like the same texture of his robes and. It was a blanket. A nice one, too, the kind placed in Officer’s quarters. Someone had retrieved and laid a blanket over him in his sleep.