[ Accepting the tissues with only momentary hesitation, he tries not to think too hard about how good it feels each time they combine their efforts to achieve a common goal. Maybe it's kickback from the Force that makes it all the more satisfying, is that how it works? Could be. Hux likes to doubt it has anything to do with other, more sentimental possibilities. ]
We could check into a hotel for the night and have room service deliver medicine for my nose and [ gLANCING DOWN AT THE VOMIT STAIN, blergh, so unhygienic it makes his eyes hurt to look at it, ] fresh clothes. That would be faster than roaming around the city in search of both.
[ If you think it's bad to look at, Hux, imagine what it's like to EXIST WITH IT ON YOUR CLOTHES. And it's a testament to Ren's general inexperience with tawdry affairs that his mind doesn't go to anything untoward when Armitage suggests a hotel room and a change of clothes. It all sounds quite practical. And convenient. ]
Let's do that. The sooner I can get out of these pants--
[ Ren pauses.
Okay, so when he puts it like that, it sounds tawdry. ]
[ Luckily for Ren, Hux is distracted by keeping his head tilted back to avoid more blood seeping out of his nose as they leave the pub. With Dameron who-knows-where it's an issue of security to ensure Ren keeps the Force at his disposal, which means Armitage is tugging him along more often than not and the sight of them, he supposes, must be ridiculous. Snoke would have surely sneered.
Hux makes sure their hands don't part for a moment, no matter how many roads they cross. ]
I'll put the charge on my account. I ... owe you, for slapping Dameron down like the akk-dog he is. [ A swelling black-eye peers sidelong. ] You're not going to order black robes, I hope.
[ Thin lips twitch, a frittering of amusement beneath the jab. ]
[ He dabs away at the blood on his own face, wincing a little when he presses too hard on his nose, still a bit tender from the fight. That they likely make a ridiculous pair, bleeding, disheveled, and holding hands, doesn't seem to concern Ren at all as they walk out into the city's streets. They're stronger like this, and that knowledge alone has Ren practically exuding a menacing confidence at any passersby.
Ren glances sidelong at Hux, the stern glower he's been directing at those around them fading into something softer, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. One thing they can always agree on: POE DAMERON IS THE WORST.
And then, at Armitage's remark, Ren lets out a short, surprised laugh. ]
I was thinking gold.
[ HA.
...
Seriously, though, good riddance to Snoke.
Ren's quiet for a few moments as they make their trek towards their destination, a little nagging feeling chewing away inside before he blurts out: ]
That man, in the bar. That was him, wasn't he?
[ Jim. Hux's friend. The one he'd felt in the general's heart before. ]
[ The double-take is one that fathers a smirk of his own, amusement riding high despite the way he huffs and tries not to show it. Kriffing gold ...
His mirth is sidelined by an anxiety to do with Jim once Ren asks about him, however. He considers lying, denying that he even follows what Ren means, but it would be pointless. He's awfully perceptive when he isn't touching a person, Hux isn't foolish enough to effectively lie to his Force-face. So, he sighs and looks away, lips sharply turning into a frown; he looks and feels like shit and Ren has vomit on his legs, what harm can there be in the truth at this point? ]
He seemed to be a decent person. I knew he was invested in Dameron, I avoided the topic of ... well, everything, so his absolute defection now is effectively my fault. I suspected he would turn on me once he knew who I was.
[ Stupidly, he hoped otherwise, and Armitage dragged out as much time with Jim as possible while skirting the subject of the First Order. ]
It turns out he's as predictable as any of the rebel scum.
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no subject
We could check into a hotel for the night and have room service deliver medicine for my nose and [ gLANCING DOWN AT THE VOMIT STAIN, blergh, so unhygienic it makes his eyes hurt to look at it, ] fresh clothes. That would be faster than roaming around the city in search of both.
no subject
Let's do that. The sooner I can get out of these pants--
[ Ren pauses.
Okay, so when he puts it like that, it sounds tawdry. ]
--and... into clean pants. The better.
[ Yes.
...
Let's go. ]
no subject
Hux makes sure their hands don't part for a moment, no matter how many roads they cross. ]
I'll put the charge on my account. I ... owe you, for slapping Dameron down like the akk-dog he is. [ A swelling black-eye peers sidelong. ] You're not going to order black robes, I hope.
[ Thin lips twitch, a frittering of amusement beneath the jab. ]
I can't afford those sort of theatrics.
no subject
Ren glances sidelong at Hux, the stern glower he's been directing at those around them fading into something softer, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. One thing they can always agree on: POE DAMERON IS THE WORST.
And then, at Armitage's remark, Ren lets out a short, surprised laugh. ]
I was thinking gold.
[ HA.
...
Seriously, though, good riddance to Snoke.
Ren's quiet for a few moments as they make their trek towards their destination, a little nagging feeling chewing away inside before he blurts out: ]
That man, in the bar. That was him, wasn't he?
[ Jim. Hux's friend. The one he'd felt in the general's heart before. ]
no subject
His mirth is sidelined by an anxiety to do with Jim once Ren asks about him, however. He considers lying, denying that he even follows what Ren means, but it would be pointless. He's awfully perceptive when he isn't touching a person, Hux isn't foolish enough to effectively lie to his Force-face. So, he sighs and looks away, lips sharply turning into a frown; he looks and feels like shit and Ren has vomit on his legs, what harm can there be in the truth at this point? ]
He seemed to be a decent person. I knew he was invested in Dameron, I avoided the topic of ... well, everything, so his absolute defection now is effectively my fault. I suspected he would turn on me once he knew who I was.
[ Stupidly, he hoped otherwise, and Armitage dragged out as much time with Jim as possible while skirting the subject of the First Order. ]
It turns out he's as predictable as any of the rebel scum.