Hux stared at the helmet-- it was mostly slag at this point. Honestly, he couldn't see what Kylo Ren even saw in the piece of trash. It ought to get melted down and made into something more useful, like a blaster or an astronav part.
"Why is your grandson so kriffing annoying?” he said finally, not entirely certain why he was bothering to talk to a pile of mostly-melted metal. He'd caught Kylo at it once or twice, and got the impression that this pointless ‘talking to grandpa Vader’ was a common thing for the leader of the Knights of Ren. “He’s constantly throwing tantrums and destroying sensitive equipment-- and I can’t even count the number of times he’s sent a decent Stormtrooper to the medbay just because he was in a mood. This has to stop.”
Anakin’s force-ghost fizzled into existence and threw a glare down at his old helmet. He hated that thing, all melted to Malachor and back. “You could try giving him chocolate. Burn down a Jedi temple for him once in a while, or light some other meaningful place on fire. He’s sentimental and likes grand gestures.”
Unfortunately for the moment (but not at all for the galaxy) Hux was about as Force Sensitive as an AT-AT Walker, just like his father had been. He didn’t notice the glowing blue man standing beside the helmet. Hux sat up and waved a hand emphatically to the helmet. It was not the sort of gesture Anakin had meant at all, though he suspected that Ben would be touched to know that he’d gotten under Hux’s skin enough to set him fuming.
“It would be one thing if he only had a hair-trigger temper. That’s fine, I could do something about that. But I can never tell when he’s going to use that ugly light saber to destroy a room, or when he’s just going to go into the hold to sulk for five days and call it ‘meditation’, or when he’s going to try and Force-choke me for attention so I’ll bend him over and fuck him until he shuts up. In the name of the Core, pick a coping mechanism! Indulgent --” Hux cut himself off with a tisk and scowled right through Anakin’s manifestation.
Hux might have been embarassed if he could see the way Anakin grimaced. Lucky for him that he couldn’t. Anakin rubbed one palm down his face, but it was far from the worst thing he’d learned about his grandson during these reliquary bedroom chats.
“Braid flowers in his hair, I don’t know. He’ll probably eat that up --his grandmother certainly liked it.” Anakin tried to put his hand on the remains of his Vader helmet, but he just sank straight through it. “Oh, for the love of--! Romance him. Take him out to planets and then blow them up. You run so rotting hot and cold with him, he complains to me about you too, you know? You’re a terrible boyfriend.”
Anakin stepped towards Hux, and waved his hands in the air directly in front of his face though he knew it would be no use. “You can’t even kriffing hear me, can you?”
Hux stood up from Kylo’s bed and reached for his pants. “Oh well, you’re dead. It’s not like you would have any decent advice anyway.” After dressing with quick, efficient motions, Hux bowed mockingly to the helmet. “I don’t know why, but I feel better now,” he said, as he turned and walked out of the room, filled with vigor to start his day knowing Kylo wouldn’t be out of his meditation-pouting-chamber until mid shift block.
[FILL: Masked Disapproval] Re: Hux talking to Vader's helmet...
"Why is your grandson so kriffing annoying?” he said finally, not entirely certain why he was bothering to talk to a pile of mostly-melted metal. He'd caught Kylo at it once or twice, and got the impression that this pointless ‘talking to grandpa Vader’ was a common thing for the leader of the Knights of Ren. “He’s constantly throwing tantrums and destroying sensitive equipment-- and I can’t even count the number of times he’s sent a decent Stormtrooper to the medbay just because he was in a mood. This has to stop.”
Anakin’s force-ghost fizzled into existence and threw a glare down at his old helmet. He hated that thing, all melted to Malachor and back. “You could try giving him chocolate. Burn down a Jedi temple for him once in a while, or light some other meaningful place on fire. He’s sentimental and likes grand gestures.”
Unfortunately for the moment (but not at all for the galaxy) Hux was about as Force Sensitive as an AT-AT Walker, just like his father had been. He didn’t notice the glowing blue man standing beside the helmet. Hux sat up and waved a hand emphatically to the helmet. It was not the sort of gesture Anakin had meant at all, though he suspected that Ben would be touched to know that he’d gotten under Hux’s skin enough to set him fuming.
“It would be one thing if he only had a hair-trigger temper. That’s fine, I could do something about that. But I can never tell when he’s going to use that ugly light saber to destroy a room, or when he’s just going to go into the hold to sulk for five days and call it ‘meditation’, or when he’s going to try and Force-choke me for attention so I’ll bend him over and fuck him until he shuts up. In the name of the Core, pick a coping mechanism! Indulgent --” Hux cut himself off with a tisk and scowled right through Anakin’s manifestation.
Hux might have been embarassed if he could see the way Anakin grimaced. Lucky for him that he couldn’t. Anakin rubbed one palm down his face, but it was far from the worst thing he’d learned about his grandson during these reliquary bedroom chats.
“Braid flowers in his hair, I don’t know. He’ll probably eat that up --his grandmother certainly liked it.” Anakin tried to put his hand on the remains of his Vader helmet, but he just sank straight through it. “Oh, for the love of--! Romance him. Take him out to planets and then blow them up. You run so rotting hot and cold with him, he complains to me about you too, you know? You’re a terrible boyfriend.”
Anakin stepped towards Hux, and waved his hands in the air directly in front of his face though he knew it would be no use. “You can’t even kriffing hear me, can you?”
Hux stood up from Kylo’s bed and reached for his pants. “Oh well, you’re dead. It’s not like you would have any decent advice anyway.” After dressing with quick, efficient motions, Hux bowed mockingly to the helmet. “I don’t know why, but I feel better now,” he said, as he turned and walked out of the room, filled with vigor to start his day knowing Kylo wouldn’t be out of his meditation-pouting-chamber until mid shift block.
Anakin sighed. “I feel lousy.”