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Whenever Lord Ren returned from one of his many clandestine missions, the entire crew of the Finalizer always knew immediately.
For one thing, the ordered peace they had enjoyed up to that point was almost instantly broken the moment his shuttle touched down in the landing dock. In his glinting mask and thick, heavy robes, the Master of the Knights of Ren was a menacing sight as he stalked down the brightly-lit corridors. Officers and Stormtroopers scattered quickly so as to allow him to pass – if they were too slow, Ren would hurry them up with the Force by flinging them across the narrow walkway and into the opposite wall. Everyone – from the technicians to the troopers to even Captain Phasma – agreed that he always seemed more anxious, more easily angered, whenever he left for the week or sometimes month-long missions. In their cramped barracks and in hushed whispers, they speculated about the cause. Some theorised that Ren’s esoteric training left him extremely drained, physically and emotionally, and that that led to him lashing out more frequently. The more imaginative ones guessed that he had a secret lover – a beauty with long dark hair and a fiery temper to match his – stashed away somewhere in the Outer Rim, and that his longer missions were ones where he snuck away to visit them. It was their lengthy separation that fuelled his near-constant fits of anger.
However, these latter speculations were rarely ever taken seriously. It was…difficult to imagine that Kylo Ren, of all people, could ever fall in love. Ren, who would sooner choke someone than listen to them. Ren, who regularly destroyed training rooms, control panels, and even his own personal quarters once on a particularly bad day. Ren, with his unstable lightsaber and unstable temperament, who could flare up in absolute fury one second and then come back to himself and turn calm and meditative the next.
No, Kylo Ren was not a man to give his heart to another. How could he, when he might not even have a heart left to give?
So the Finalizer’s crew left it at that, at rumours and fantasies that never went beyond the walls of their shared quarters, and when Lord Ren’s sleek Upsilon-class shuttle landed in the docking bay, they greeted him with as much deference and loyalty as they could muster.
General Hux was different.
He never deigned to personally greet Ren when he returned from some distant backwater planet, believing it to be a senseless waste of time. Yet he too knew immediately whenever the Force user was back on board the Star Destroyer, because Ren would always leave a little gift for Hux in his quarters.
The first time he did it, Hux had been very confused and alarmed to find a rock sitting on his desk. It was a simple, lumpy grey thing, and it stood out like a sore thumb amongst the series of datapads neatly stacked on his table. He eyed it suspiciously – was it some kind of crude grenade? Had a Resistance spy managed to sneak on board and hide a disguised explosive in his room? If that was the case, then they had done a very poor job of it. Hux was just about to call in a droid to scan the little object when the doors hissed open and Kylo Ren stepped in.
Ren offered no greeting, simply leaning against the wall and staring at Hux in silence. His face was still hidden behind that pretentious mask of his, so Hux couldn’t quite tell just what he was thinking. Hux chose to stare back, his face impassive.
Once, a long time ago, such a thing would have unnerved Hux. Back when Ren had first joined the First Order, he had been even more volatile and unpredictable than he was today, destroying a grand total of two training rooms and part of the bridge within a single week. When Hux had called him out on it, Ren had responded by brandishing his lightsaber and holding it dangerously close to Hux’s face.
“I warn you, General,” he had said, the pulsing heat of his lightsaber just a few inches shy from burning Hux’s skin off. “Think carefully before you speak to me like that again.”
But that was then, and this was now. And now, well, things were different, because after a few minutes of their little staring competition, Hux broke the silence and said, “What do you want, Ren? I’m busy.”
Ren shifted uncomfortably, running his fingers nervously over the hilt of the lightsaber hanging by his side. It was just one of his many little habits, and Hux had noticed it some time ago, several months after his disastrous fight with the girl on Starkiller Base. Whenever Ren was feeling anxious or uncertain, he would let his hand fall to his side and brush against the saber, taking comfort in the familiar feel of its ridges, its vents, its switch. It was highly likely that Ren himself was not aware of it, but Hux suspected that doing that made him feel more in control.
Ren cleared his throat, the noise sounding awkward and strange when filtered through the modulator in his mask. Then he asked, softly, “Do you like it?”
“Like…what?” Hux replied. His eyes were drawn to the rock on his desk, and suddenly realisation hit him. “The rock? Is this from you?”
“Who else would it be? No one else other than the cleaning droids have access to your quarters.” He took a step closer to Hux. “And I thought that perhaps you might have been…expecting something from me. A souvenir.”
“Ren, you were in the Western Reaches on a mission for Leader Snoke, not a vacation.”
“I know that.” Though the mask still covered his face, Hux figured that Ren was starting to turn red. “But I still wanted to bring something back. For you.”
This was a surprise. If someone had told Hux a few months ago that Kylo Ren was the type to bring back souvenirs from his trips around the galaxy, he would have laughed in their face. Guess you learn something new every day, he mused. Hux’s immediate instinct was to decline the gift, however, because he preferred not to decorate his quarters with strange knick-knacks from kriff knows where. Yet at the same time, he knew that if he did that, Ren really would run him through with his lightsaber.
So instead he said, “Why did you pick a rock of all things?”
“It isn’t a rock, Hux,” Ren huffed. With an irritated noise, he brought out his lightsaber, ignited it, and sliced the rock neatly into two. It sizzled for a bit, before falling apart and revealing something jagged and purple and bright inside it. Hux squinted at it in consternation, eyebrows knitted together. He had never seen such a curious thing before. Ren took hold of one half of the rock and held it up to Hux’s face.
“It’s a geode.”
Hux, who spent most of his time indoors and only ever ventured outside as part of his military training, gaped at the geode in fascination. He had expected to find nothing but a grey mass when Ren cut it open, rather than a glinting cavity lined entirely with crystals. The sunlight filtering through his massive viewport bounced off of it, casting colourful kaleidoscope reflections on his otherwise dull ceiling.
Unable to stop himself, he let out a soft gasp. “It’s beautiful.” Then, with sincerity, “Thank you.”
Ren looked down at his feet and mumbled something indecipherable.
“What was that?”
“I said it…reminded me…of you…”
Hux felt his cheeks begin to colour, but before he could ask Ren just what he meant, the taller man fled from the room, muttering something about the Supreme Leader wanting to see him. Hux stared at his retreating back, his torn cloak billowing behind him like a thundercloud as he stomped down the corridor. Then he looked back at the two halves of the geode on his desk.
He supposed he could clear a space for them on his bedside table.
After that, Ren started bringing him little gifts and trinkets almost constantly. Mere minutes after his shuttle landed in the docking bay, Hux would find some odd new thing placed on his desk. Sometimes he recognised the thing, most times he did not. During these latter occasions Ren would swing by after his debriefing with Snoke and explain what it was, how he had gotten it, and who he had to kill in the process. He would talk about his mission and complain about the inefficiency of the Stormtroopers with him, and Hux would retaliate and rush to the defence of his training programme. It was their usual argument, nothing new, but over the course of several months Hux came to realise that he was no longer as annoyed with Ren as he used to be, and that he perhaps somewhat enjoyed their little verbal sparring sessions. One could say that he even looked forward to them, but that was a fact that Hux was not quite ready to acknowledge just yet.
At some point – Hux didn’t know when, the months were starting to blur together – Ren took to taking off his mask whenever he visited Hux’s quarters. Hux knew how much such a gesture meant to Ren – how much he meant to Ren, if he was being honest with himself. The scar he had received from the scavenger girl over a year ago had left a crimson welt directly across his face – Hux was reminded, strangely, of the way he had cleaved the geode into two so long ago. Sometimes Ren would wince in the middle of their conversation, and Hux guessed that the wound still stung him, still burned him in ways Hux couldn’t fathom. But he never brought it up, and Hux never commented on it.
Hux learnt a lot about Ren during these visits. He learnt that he had large brown eyes that crinkled at the corners whenever he gave one of his rare smiles; he learnt that his laugh was a deep, low rumble that came from his chest; he learnt that he braided his hair to keep it from losing its shape under the helmet.
Ren also started to pay Hux late-night visits, when the Finalizer was mostly running on a skeleton crew, and during these visits Hux learnt other things. He learnt that Ren had an embarrassing heart-shaped mole on his lower back; he learnt that his lips tasted like fresh mint and strawberries; he learnt that he liked to be teased behind his ears and on his neck, and that he flushed red as ripe cherries whenever Hux obliged.
One day, Hux received a complaint about some exotic plant that Ren had brought aboard his shuttle. According to one of the Stormtroopers, who told Phasma, who told him, the plant had caused a “strange mood” to come upon the crew of the shuttle, “severely hindering” their performance and causing Ren himself to become even more temperamental than usual. Hux assured her that he would look into it, and sure enough, when he returned to his quarters he found a pot of bright purple flowers sitting on his desk. Ren was there too, mask off, and he sat on the bed looking decidedly ashamed. He was blushing so hard his ears were turning pink, and he refused to meet Hux’s gaze.
After a lot of coaxing on Hux’s part, Ren finally revealed the truth.
“It’s an aphrodisiac.” Well, Hux certainly was not expecting that, and he had to quickly stifle a laugh when he saw the sad look on Ren’s face. “I didn’t know, I thought it just looked nice so I got you a pot. But back on the shuttle, a bunch of the troopers suddenly started getting…unprofessional thoughts. I could sense everything. It was terrible.”
Hux couldn’t take it anymore, and he let out an undignified squawk of laughter. Ren glowered at him.
“I do – I do apologise for laughing, Ren,” he spluttered, sounding anything but apologetic. “But you have to admit this whole situation is rather amusing.”
“It isn’t, Hux, it’s embarrassing.” Ren looked ready to crawl back inside his mask and hide there forever. He started to gather his things and make for the door, but Hux got to him first and stopped him by firmly pressing his lips to his.
“You know Ren, if you wanted to, you could’ve just asked,” he murmured teasingly. Ren made a whining noise and broke apart for a split second.
“This isn’t the effect of those damn flowers, is it? Because if it is, then I really should just leave –”
“No.” Hux shut him up by pulling him in for another kiss, this one hungrier and more desperate. “It’s not the flowers, Kylo.” And this time Kylo responded with just as much enthusiasm as Hux.
As the pair of them half-pulled each other, half-fell onto the bed, Hux allowed himself to think that maybe – just maybe – he couldn’t be entirely sure – his feelings for Kylo Ren were more than just the grudging respect found between rival colleagues. More than the casual, heated lust of sex friends, even.
Somewhere in his heart was the barest hint of something not unlike affection.
Ren was the type to fall deep asleep after sex, and whenever he met Hux for one of their trysts he always ended up staying over until the next morning. Hux, on the other hand, preferred to stay awake for just a little while longer, running his hands through the other’s dark, silky hair, then down to his neck, his back, his arms. Ren had a wide back – Hux liked to splay his hand on it and marvel at how much it was dwarfed in size. It was to be expected, after all – when he wasn’t meditating in his quarters or ruining the day of some poor junior officer, Ren was sure to be found in one of the Finalizer’s many training rooms. Sometimes Phasma joined him there with some of her more eager Stormtroopers, but usually he liked to be left alone. Hux had gone in to check on him once, but the sight of Ren in nothing but a tank top and sweat pouring off of him had caused Hux to immediately back out. Damn Kylo Ren for being so attractive underneath that mask.
Ren was snoring lightly – the aphrodisiacal qualities of the plant were no joke, and they had ended up going at it for far longer than usual. Part of their big shared blanket had gotten tangled between his legs while he was tossing and turning in his sleep, and Hux longed to tug it back up properly so he wouldn’t get cold. The fear that Ren would wake up kept Hux from doing so – Kylo Ren was not a morning person, especially if that ‘morning’ turned out to be the middle of the night.
Hux was just drifting off to sleep himself when he felt Ren twitch underneath him. Curious, he sat up and peered over to see that Ren was shivering slightly, his face scrunched up and frowning. He seemed to be saying something too, but it was so soft that Hux couldn’t make it out.
“Kylo.” He put a hand on Ren’s shoulder and tried to shake him gently. “Kylo, wake up.”
Ren muttered something in reply but did not wake up. Hux tried again, this time with more force.
“Kylo, come on, wake up.”
Ren jerked up with a start, breathing heavily.
“What’s going on?” He asked dazedly. Something salty and wet escaped from his eyes and rolled down his face – he blinked at it in surprise.
“You were having a bad dream.”
Ren stared at Hux, his gaze unfocused and unseeing, then with a sigh he flopped back down onto the pillow.
“I guess I was.”
Hux let him lie there for a moment, before lying back down next to him and reaching for his hand. Ren let him take it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t,” he snapped immediately, but then he seemed to change his mind and took a deep, shuddering breath. “It was about my fath – about Han Solo.” His words caught in his throat when he said the name, and Hux felt a surge of sympathy. He knew he shouldn’t have – his father’s killer was, after all, Ren himself.
“We were – we were on the Falcon, just after my eighth birthday. He was sending me to Skywalker to train, but I couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t hear what he was saying. I remember telling him how much I didn’t want to leave, how much I wanted to go back with him, back to my moth – to Leia Organa. But he wasn’t listening to me – or maybe I was the one not listening to him.”
When he had his mask on, Ren was usually a man of few words, speaking only as much as he needed to. Without it, however, and especially around Hux, he turned surprisingly chatty. Hux suspected that perhaps Ren didn’t have anyone else to talk to.
“And then he came back,” Ren continued, with a hollow laugh. “He turned the ship around and came back, and I ran to him. I was overjoyed. But when I came away from hugging him, my hands were – were all red and slick with blood. It was everywhere, dripping onto my lightsaber, and then…” He turned to face Hux, his eyes bright and glistening. “Then you woke me up.”
Ren’s hands felt cold and clammy in Hux’s grip, and he gave them a squeeze. That was all he offered as a response – eloquent and glib of tongue as he usually was, Hux found that all the words he wished to say escaped him. And even if he did somehow find it in himself to say them, what good would they do? Providing comfort had never been one of his strong points, because up till now he had never been particularly close to anyone, not even his parents. At least in that respect, he and Ren were the same.
Ren was an oddity in the First Order. Unlike the rest of them, who grew up basking in stories about the glory of the Empire, Ren came from a very different background – one of light. And despite all that the Supreme Leader strived to teach him, despite his fervent and borderline obsessive admiration for his grandfather Darth Vader, Hux supposed there was no real way to completely extinguish that little sliver of light. Kylo Ren was cursed to always walk that thin grey line between the darkness and the light, a creature of two opposing worlds yet shunned by both, unable to find neither acceptance nor belonging.
If he were just another officer or some errant Stormtrooper, Hux would have sent him for reconditioning immediately. Weakness of any kind was not tolerated in the Order – ever since the unfortunate incident with FN-2187, Phasma and Hux had doubled the intensity of their training programme. However, something in Hux – something that hadn’t been there before – stopped him from doing the same to Ren.
It was that something that caused Hux to reach up and tenderly brush the hair from Ren’s face, caused him to rub soothing circles over the back of his hand. It was that something that caused him to say, apropos of nothing, “Thank you for that plant, by the way. I enjoyed myself.”
That earned him an uncharacteristic snort from Ren. Hux’s chest tightened.
“I’m glad you did,” Ren said, and Hux detected a smile in his voice. “I can always bring back more, if you want. The Supreme Leader may be sending me back to that system next week.”
“At the rate you’re going, I won’t have any more space left in my quarters to put it.”
“Then we’ll put it in my quarters, and you can come to visit me for once.”
“That’s unprofessional.”
“Suit yourself, General.”
Hux let out a soft laugh. All the tension and worry he had felt for Ren had long since dissipated at the sound of his laughter, replaced by a pleasant sort of warmth.
“Why do you keep bringing me these little gifts, Kylo? You know you don’t need to –”
“Because I want to, Hux.” Ren’s tone turned suddenly serious. “Because I want you to know that I’ll be coming back.”
Hux almost said, “Of course you’ll be coming back, you still need to report for your debriefing with Leader Snoke.” But then he remembered Ren’s dream, and suddenly everything fell into place.
“I know all about waiting,” Ren said, his voice flat. “I know what it can be like, what it can do to you, and that’s a feeling I don’t want you to ever have to experience.” He picked up the half of the geode sitting on the bedside table next to him (the other half was on Hux’s desk) and fiddled around with it before passing it to Hux.
“I give you things so you’ll have something to look forward to, something to keep you company when I’m not around.”
Hux held the geode above his head, where it twinkled with a soft lilac glow, catching the faint starlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling viewport. In the darkness of the room, it reminded him of a vast nebula, swirling and spiralling in an endless graceful dance. For one brief, wild moment, Hux felt that he was holding the entire span of the galaxy in the palm of his hands. It was the strangest sensation, and he wondered if that was the real reason Ren had given the geode to him all those months ago.
Hux’s “thank you” was no louder than a breath, but Ren heard it clearly all the same.
Ren did not bring back another plant the next week, but the troopers from his shuttle had once again lodged a complaint to Phasma, who complained to him, that Lord Ren had endangered the latter part of their mission by bringing aboard some odd, feral creature. It had apparently refused to be subjugated by any of the Stormtroopers present, and in defiance it had wreaked havoc across the shuttle throughout the entire trip back to the Finalizer. Rumours were already starting to circulate that the troopers from Ren’s shuttle were planning a strike – Hux didn’t blame them, but he honestly did not need any more things to worry about at the moment.
After he had personally sorted things out with the disgruntled shuttle personnel – a feat that took a much longer time than he expected – Hux was not looking forward to returning to his quarters. He had no idea what he would find waiting for him there, but if the terrifying descriptions he had heard were anything to go by, his room was sure to resemble a hellish warzone by the time he got back. Then again, Hux thought, it can’t be any worse than the many rooms Ren himself has destroyed.
Hux was right. Hux was always right.
He gazed in sadness at the torn sheets and ripped pillows strewn across the floor, mixed in with the well-ironed uniforms and sleepwear that once hung in his closet. His chair was overturned, buried under a mound of datapads and documents. In the middle of it all was Ren, standing dejectedly in the one spot of the room that was not a complete mess. Hux gave him a look.
“What is this, Ren?”
“I can explain.”
But before he could do so, something yowled from under the bed. An orange streak dashed out and jumped onto Hux’s desk, scattering the few items that still remained on it. Its sharp claws were fully extended, and it hissed at Ren. Hux rubbed his temples.
“Why in Malachor did you decide to get me this…screeching creature of all things? What even is it?”
“I believe it’s called a ‘cat’. The people of that planet domesticate them.” Ren tried to reach out to the animal and pet it, but retracted his hand immediately when it bared its teeth at him. Hux noticed that for once, Ren still had his mask on. Evidently, he feared that the cat might put a fresh scar on his face if he wasn’t careful.
“Ren, you do know that the Finalizer has a strict no-animals policy, don’t you? Or were you simply not listening to me when you first joined us here?”
“To be perfectly honest, Hux – no, I wasn’t.” He tentatively brought his hand forward again, and this time succeeded in touching the animal’s back before it skittered away. “Do you think it’s scared of my mask? Maybe I should take it off.”
“Ren, I need to set an example for –”
“Oh, I’m sure the rules can make an exception for the General himself,” Ren shot back. He unclasped his mask and laid it face up on Hux’s desk. The cat wandered over to it and sniffed it curiously, before putting its paws up and climbing into it. “See? It likes me already.”
Hux could feel a terrible headache coming on. He had been up till four in the morning doing accounts (the damage Ren routinely inflicted upon the ship was no joke), his room would take him hours to clean, and to top it all off he now had to somehow care for this unruly little creature of Ren’s. This was not at all what he had joined the Order for.
He picked up the cat, still nestled inside Ren’s mask, and studied it closely. Its fur was matted and tawny, with dark stripes running down its back and its tail. “Ren, I am possibly the least qualified person on this ship to take care of…Oh.”
The cat had retracted its claws and placed one fluffy paw on top of Hux’s hand. It made a sound like “mrow” and blinked at him with large green eyes. Ren peered over his shoulder.
“I think it likes you as well,” he commented drily. “You both have the same hair.”
Hux ignored him, because all of a sudden Kylo Ren didn’t matter. In fact, nothing in the galaxy mattered but this cat, sitting in a helmet, blessing his gloved hand with its paw. He made a few quick mental decisions – all of which he was sure he would regret the next day – and fished out his communicator from his pocket.
“This is General Hux requesting a fresh change of sheets, a bowl of water, and a litter box. Yes, you heard me, I said a litter box –”
Hux named the cat Millicent, much to the chagrin of Ren, who claimed that the name was “absolutely appalling” but could do nothing to change Hux’s mind. She spent most of her time napping or playing in his quarters, but sometimes she followed Hux out onto the bridge or the hangar while he did his job. Hux was always sure to be extra careful during these latter occasions, assigning several seasoned troopers to follow her around and ensure she did not hurt herself. She never did.
It didn’t take long for Millie to warm to Hux, but for Ren it was a different story. His next few gifts were all for her – strange delicacies from far-off worlds, toys fashioned out of Bantha fur (“Ren, please.”) – but unfortunately for him, she never seemed to appreciate them very much. Instead, she preferred to play with one of Hux’s standard issue socks and chase it around the room, or roll around inside Ren’s helmet and get cat hair all over it. Whenever Ren stayed over for the night, she would wedge herself firmly in between the two of them.
“Hux, I think your cat hates me,” he commented one evening. Every time he had tried to put his hand around Hux’s waist, Millie had yawned and stretched and prevented him from doing so.
“You were the one who brought her here,” Hux pointed out. “So you have no one else to blame but yourself.”
Ren kept silent, and Hux thought that he had given up on the topic. However, after a little while he spoke up again, and this time there was something else in his tone – something hesitant, unsure.
“I chose her because…she reminded me of you.”
He had said the same thing about his first gift to Hux. That was almost a year ago now, but Hux could never quite forget those words.
“Does everything remind you of me?” He asked playfully, inclining his head towards the many ornaments and curios arranged throughout the room.
Ren finally succeeded in gently nudging Millie to the pillow at the top of the bed and wrapping himself around Hux. She meowed in protest but didn’t resist.
“Not everything,” he answered, the words muffled and lost in Hux’s hair as he buried his face gratefully into it. “Just…most things.”
Hux and Ren often spoke about a variety of topics – battle strategies, the Empire, the abysmal canteen food served on the Finalizer – but the topic of love rarely ever came up, and when it did, they were always quick to shift their talk to other matters. After all, it wasn’t the easiest thing to talk about, didn’t roll off their tongues as smoothly as it did for other people. Instead, whatever modicum of affection they had for each other seemed to cling to the inside of their hearts and refuse to be verbalised, as if in doing so it would become nothing more than words – empty, airy, untrue.
So Hux didn’t know what kind of response Ren expected from him, if he even expected one at all. He thus chose to keep quiet, relishing the feel of Ren pressed close against his back, his arm languidly draped over him, and they left the conversation at that and went to sleep.
The Finalizer was flying past a sun, and everything in Hux’s quarters was the same distinctive shade of scarlet as Ren’s lightsaber.
Hux was sat at his desk, Millie dozing next to him. The Supreme Leader had tasked the pair of them with finding a suitable location for the construction of a second Starkiller Base, and while he had remained on board the Finalizer, Ren had gone down to one of the nearby planets to personally survey it. The only problem was that Ren still hadn’t returned after more than a week.
Hux knew full well that he needn’t worry himself too much over this. After all, this was Kylo Ren he was talking about – sure, the man could be reckless and unthinking in his actions, but he knew how to get a job done, especially one as simple as this. He fiddled with his datapad, then sighed and put it down when he realised he couldn’t focus.
Millie raised her head and bumped it against Hux’s hand. He scratched her behind the ears, causing her to purr contentedly.
“Are you thinking of him too, Millie?”
For all that Ren complained, Hux was fairly certain that the cat liked him as well. She’d twined herself about his legs once and tried to bite his lightsaber – Ren had been convinced that she planned to trip him up and kill him, while Hux had only laughed.
He caught himself smiling at the memory, then shook his head and frowned. Just when had he gone so soft? He was the General of the First Order, not some insipid, lovestruck schoolboy.
His eyes searched the room for something, anything to distract himself with, but it was no use – everything in the room, no matter how small or insignificant, reminded him of Ren. There was the chess set he had brought back from Naboo – they enjoyed playing it together to unwind, but Ren always threw a tantrum whenever he lost, which was most of the time. Tucked away in a corner of his shelf was a bottle of fine Corellian wine – Ren had bought it for his birthday, but Hux hadn’t had the heart to open it just yet. Even the carpet under his feet was a gift from Ren – he had bought it from a little shop somewhere in the distant Anthan system, and its intricate design depicted an ornate throne covered in golden vines. Hux sat himself down on it and ran his hand over the exquisite thread. He huffed a sigh.
Typical Ren. He was never one to do things by halves, and though Hux was in no way Force-sensitive, he could feel Ren’s unmistakeable presence pulsing, throbbing, bursting forth from every corner of the room. Whatever he had hoped to achieve by showering Hux with presents, he had definitely accomplished it.
And just as Hux was thinking this, his room suddenly went dark. A massive shadow swept across the room as something flew past his viewport – Hux recognised the shape immediately.
He had always mocked the ludicrous design of Ren’s personal shuttle. It was too extravagant, too indiscreet. There wasn’t an ounce of subtlety in it, completely unbefitting a First Order vehicle.
Never in his life did he think he’d be so glad to see it.
It wasn’t long before Hux heard familiar heavy footsteps echo down the corridor outside his quarters. (When had he memorised the sound of his feet? Hux didn’t know, and Hux didn’t care.) This time, as he got up from the floor, Hux didn’t bother trying to hide the genuine smile spreading slowly across his face. Millie was already running to the door.
End.