Off Record

Chapter 2

Hux reaches for his Commlink with the deliberate ease of a snake about to strike, allowing himself a singular exasperated intake of breath before answering.

"Where.is.he." It's not so much a question as it is a command. It's only been four days since Hux prevented Ren from dying of stupidity, and he's nearly thirty-six hours behind schedule from playing nurse and correcting errors made under subpar management in his absence. But, here it is, the sixth damage report of the day. Hux prefers Ren bedridden, possibly even unconscious, seeing as now that he's unsteadily back on his feet he's more of a petulant wrecking ball than ever.

"The training room, sir." I should have known. Of coarse he's exerting himself surrounded by weapons. Hux is beginning to think that the Rebel's best chance of killing Ren is simply leaving him to his own devices. Hux delegates the day's procedures over the Commlink as he strides across his ship, steps briskly into the training room, and stands before Ren with tension in every ounce of his military posture.

"You should be resting," he informs Ren in his most terrifyingly calm I have an army voice.

"You where the one who said I should recover quickly, General." Ren's helmet replies mechanically.

"And I see you've decided not to recover at all instead," Hux may not be able to see his face, but he knows Ren's hardly at his best. The force user didn't seem to anticipate Hux's entry; Hux would be willing to bet his senses are dulled. And Hux never makes bets he can't win. "You're only weakening your body. And destroying the Finalizer while you're at it. Don't assume I won't order another quarantine! If it's the only way I can run the damn ship, I allow this...incident to enter the Supreme Leader's radar just to keep you confined."

"You're threatening me?" Ren straightens to his full height and steps closer to Hux, who signs sharply through his nose at having to look upwards to address him. Ren may be compromised enough to bluff to, but he's still too prideful to buckle. "Ren," he reasons, "This is senseless, dangerous, and-"

"BRRRAAAASSHHHRR!!!" screams the voice modulator as what Hux can only assume is a sneeze tears through Kylo and splits cracks down the blaster-proof walls.

"-unsanitary." Hux concludes with slightly less contempt, fishing into his pocket for one of handkerchiefs he's been keeping at hand. He extends the fastidiously geometric, uniformly folded square to Ren. When the man makes no move to accept it, Hux blesses him in a tone far gentler than he'll ever admit to using. "Gesundheit." The seal of the soiled helmet hisses and a disheveled Ren emerges, hastily pressing the silk to his wriggling nose. "Ren..." Hux's eyes dart to the weapons case as Kylo's breath begins to follow a pattern of hitching Hux has been unlucky enough to grow accustomed to.

"h-heh..hehh..."

"Don't!!" In one swift motion, Hux saddles an arm around Kylo's back and whisks them into the corridor.

"EHXXshhhuh!" Hux is anti-climactically lifted about an inch off the ground and dropped back into place, "hep'eeexxSHHH!!!" then thrown flat on his back. Brushing himself off testily, Hux secures victory over the snuffling disaster before him with two syllables.

"BED. NOW."