( OPEN )

[fhux]

WHO: Hux & YOU
WHAT: His first month in the Quarantine.
WHEN: Feb.
WHERE: All over! Tag his open prompt or contact me for a private thread.
WARNINGS: tba

i. central perk in space.

[ It has been so long since Hux was planetside (aside from Starkiller Base which doesn't really count because nothing was new there, culturally, after the First Order set down roots) that for his first couple of weeks without duties, responsibilities, or even a timetable, he flounders for what to do with himself. After throwing himself into his work at the Perimeter Guard (training and such menial obstacles that must be overcome with his indictment) and messaging the network only to find a wealth of the Resistance skulking around, determined to sabotage his attempts to do exactly anything, not to mention Kylo Ren running wild with the most common of ruffians available, Armitage decides Kriff this and goes into the city with no clear purpose. It's horrible yet somehow soothing to have no direction and aimlessly wander, discovering this and that along the way. He takes notes of local engineering workshops and purchases what passes for a datapad from some galaxy he's never heard of, spends a little too long outside a pet store watching a young batch of kittens under a For Sale sign (Millicent), and indulges in rating caff-shops. Or coffee-shops, whatever they're called.

He finds one in particular that he likes. No one knows him or looks twice when he steps inside, half-anxious FN-2187 or Dameron is going to pop up like a mouthy sarlacc and shriek obscenities at him, but he purchases a black caff and some cookies and sits down near a window in peaceful silence, greatcoat folded beside him and the new datapad his current focus as he attempts to reprogram its language into Basic. It's a relaxing task and somewhat flexes his technical skills, keeping his head down so that he is soon absorbed in his work, occasionally raking back loose red hair that flops forward without the usual regulation pomade, sweater sleeves rolled up as the heat of the shop seeps into his pale skin. Oddly, he thinks of his quiet talks with Phasma at the end of her shifts whenever she would approach him in his private quarters to log reports, and he misses the subtle humour that would wryly peel through her helmet as he drank his bitter tea, gently ribbing back and forth. He misses ... a lot about home. Yet, even though most of his time was objectively spent alone on the Finalizer, never has he had the time to actually feel lonely. There has always been something to do.

Armitage isn't happy but neither is he despairing anymore, which is as good as he suspects it will get on this moon. At least the caff is decent and no one is adding new bruises to his collection of faded relics. ]

ii. shuttle adventure. (closed to jim kirk)

[ It's a matter of time before one of the Resistance sabotages his attempts to get anything of worth done at Armitage's new job (he still isn't sure what to do with himself, exactly) but before they do he intends to get as good of an overview of what he's dealing with as possible, and that means actual legwork. No longer does he have a star-destroyer to simply scan the terrain on his behalf and relay any salient information; no, today he arrives on what passes for the Guard's shuttle bay with his homemade datapad under an arm, greatcoat buttoned (minus any insignia that might set off an unwanted confrontation) and ungelled hair whipping in the wind as he approaches the owner of the craft.

Not knowing what to expect with the rebels an unknown factor lurking in the shadows, he straightens up near Kirk and clears his throat. Manages a tight smile. (Certain factors run through his mind, taking note of the height and muscle Kirk has on him, comforted by the concealed blaster and knife Hux decided to keep hidden away on his person ... just in case.) ]

Captain. If you and your vessel are ready and willing, I believe I'm a little early for our tour of the Abandoned City.

iii. getting up, close and wet. (closed to valkyrie)

[ The only significant amount of time Hux spends in the public apartments is to shower, distrustful of the showers at the Perimeter Guard which are so close to the hygiene sectors that Stormtroopers use he can't bear to imagine setting foot inside them. So his routine goes as follows; enter the apartment with spare clothes and toiletries in his satchel, head straight to the showers, return to the bedroom and change into fresh clothes. He keeps a hairbrush and spare towel in the drawers next to his allotted bed, which is fortunate because today he doesn't have another towel to dry his hair with and, having discovered Tico is a resident on the same floor, he would rather not linger longer than necessary.

The aggressive woman known as Valkyrie is, of course, therefore passed out on his bed with her feet in the way of the drawers he needs to get into, dripping and cold in a single towel wrapped around his waist. She's the violent type, he has vaguely heard, so when it comes to waking her up he doesn't take any chances.

Armitage uses someone else's pillow to throw at her head, himself keeping a safe distance. In a cutting tone usually appropriated on the bridge of the Finalizer, he barks, ] Up, now!

Comments

[killthepast]

[ It's odd to feel such anger rising from Hux on his behalf-- or, well, close to it. Not out of any concern for Ren, himself, of course, but for the insult that it is to both of them. At least their shared enemies will keep them on the same side for now, even if Ren's loyalty to the First Order is... unreliable, at best, and his position as Supreme Leader is completely tenuous. ]

I don't carry a blaster. [ It's pretty clear in his voice that he has some disdain for them. COMMONERS AND FORCE BLIND PEASANTS RELY ON BLASTERS. ] I can defend myself without one.

[fhux]

Your precious saber can't always be relied upon to deflect blaster-fire, evidently. [ The reprimand isn't something he thinks too heavily on, more focused on repairing the situation so that should it arise again, Ren won't have an energy-sword alone to rely on. Such a dated weapon, albeit elegant. ] I'll have a custom model built, one that can remain easily concealed.

[ He'll make it himself, more like. No other choice and it isn't as if he currently has any other plans in the works. Yet. In any case, just like the concealed knife he keeps up his coatsleeve, a small blaster should be easy enough to construct.

(Better put a tracker in it, too.) ]

Do me the gracious favour of carrying it.

[killthepast]

[ Immediately, Ren leans forward and snaps back, almost petulant: ] My saber wasn't the issue when they shot me!

[ Indeed, he hadn't even drawn it during that particular fight. If he had, it likely would have gone completely differently. Which... fine, perhaps Hux is right. A concealed blaster would at least give him some tactical flexibility, more than just the Force, his lightsaber, and his brawn.

He seems to relax a little, with some effort, and sinks back in his seat, fingers curling around his beverage. ]

Fine. I'll carry it. [ After a beat, some awkward, sullen silence, he adds: ] If you need resources, I have contacts at Prometheus Labs.

[fhux]

[ No, the issue was likely you. Petulant child. He doesn't rise to bait; if he did then they would only ever share snarling matches without a shred of productivity. ]

I'll look into them. [ He debates withholding information but that could be a detrimental move if he ever requires Ren to come to him. ] I have a ... space at the Guard. My special unit is the Industrial Scientific Advancement, if you need me I shouldn't be difficult to find.

[ Pausing, he adds, ]

No calls past twenty-one hundred hours.

[ BEDTIME. ]

[killthepast]

[ Ren nods, though he says nothing for a few moments. Just watches Hux again, as he had when he first sat down. It's clear that communal living isn't working out for the general. Not surprising, considering how many rebels are crawling around the residence. He'd find someplace else to sleep, himself, if he were in Hux's position. ]

I have a private room that I no longer use. Take it. You clearly need it more than I do.

[ It isn't concern, or compassion, that drives him to make his offer, so much as practicality. He doesn't keep any belongings there, save for some journals of notes and observations, some clothes that he hasn't touched in a month. Those can easily be relocated.

A safe and rested ally is more valuable than one running on fumes and constantly under threat. ]

[fhux]

Excuse you, I think not.

[ If there's the slightest chance Ren has been entertaining his new past-times in that room, Hux would rather have a permanent neck-cramp from his chair at the ISA.

He takes the same liberties as Ren, looking him over. With an enforced calm, he gives up resisting and asks, ]

Others have told me that, through some sort of time and space disfunction of the portal, the dead can come through to us here. Is any part of that true, to your knowledge?

[ Phasma would be ideal. Brendol, not so much. Snoke? Hux can't help his grip tightening on a cooling mug of caff, long forgotten. ]

[killthepast]

[ What is so objectionable about--

HUX.

Ren slams a hand down on the table, attracting some stares, which aren't enough to deter him from leaning forward, across the table, to get in the redhead's face. At first, his voice is... mild. ]

And what do you think I get up to in my spare time? [ Growling now: ] Do you think I'm in the habit of 'entertaining' company?

[ He'll answer your question about the dead AFTER YOU DEFLECT HIS OUTRAGE. ]

[fhux]

[ Startled by the bang, anger floods over the fright as he realises what has happened. And how ... how dare this overgrown child violate him like that? Flushing red with fury and embarrassment at having heads turn, he bites out a reply (deflecting, yes, but more important from his point of view). ]

Stay out of my mind, Ren! You have no right being there!

[killthepast]

[ Ren, meanwhile, is unconcerned with the staring of others. All of his attention is on Hux, and his own barely-contained desire to dig deeper, as if to prove to the general that he's in no position to issue demands. ]

Then don't give me a reason.

[ Holding that glare for a beat longer than necessary, Kylo then sinks back into his seat and takes a sip of his drink. Still scowling, his hostility barely suppressed, Ren adds: ]

It's true, about the dead.

[ The possibility of Snoke appearing here is some concern, though not one at the forefront of his mind. No, instead he fears his own father. What will he do if he's one day trapped on this moon with Han Solo? ]

[fhux]

[ Don't threaten me. If he could mentally hiss as loudly as possible that's what he attempts, returning the glare twofold. The dead: ah, that. Still keyed up from being snapped at, Hux barely cares anymore, frustrated with how easily infuriating Ren can be. That wariness is a requirement after Ren lost the leash Snoke held him on, liable to lash out in a variety of ways. That fear crescendoes with a heavy helping of anger and he snatches up his coat, stuffs his datapad under an arm, and stalks out of the booth. He won't continue a discussion with someone that volatile when he has no way to retaliate, the easiest method of self-preservation and making a point is a swift retreat.

If only he could teleport, he would. ]