Kylo Ren spent a lot of his time thinking about proportion, symmetry, and form. He knew that his own face subverted generic handsomeness -- but it drew the eye diagonally, it delivered visual harmony through the repetition of his dark hair and eyes.
He liked his face, but reflected in Hux’s mirrored Ray-Ban Clubmasters, it appeared to be pouting.
He squinted and leaned in, smoothing one of his eyebrows with a knuckle.
“Excuse me,” said Hux, “Narcissus. Did you hear what I said?”
“Not the specifics. Something about Chipotle?”
Hux crossed his arms. “Ren, I am one hundred percent serious, we’re running too close to the line to afford guacamole right now, and if I catch you again it’s coming out of the interior budget.”
“So it comes from the interior budget. Where are we on the pool tile?”
“Your choice. One-by-one slate, or one-by-one blue blend.”
“I wanted --”
“I know you wanted to hand-pattern a five color modern honeycomb, but I just told you we couldn’t accord guacamole.”
“I thought we were sacrificing the guacamole so we could afford the tile.”
The small, mid-construction LA yard was quiet for a few moments. Kylo heard the dry sound of palm trees in the wind.
“I am going to have a stroke,” said Hux. “And it will be your fault.”
“Fine,” said Kylo. “I’ll use my power of attorney to pull the plug on you and order five colors of tile. Then I will work through my grief by hand-patterning a modern honeycomb in the pool.”
“Excuse me,” said Rey behind Kylo’s right shoulder.
“I’m going inside,” said Hux. His voice was quiet and tense, the way it was last year when he had taken the keys to Kylo’s Cayenne and thrown them into the ocean from Justin Bobby Brescia’s yacht.
“Sorry,” Rey said again. They ignored her.
“Go,” said Kylo. “Have your stroke inside. No one will ever find you, because I’ll be out here trying to transform one-by-one blue blend glass tile into something modern if I have to spill my blood into the grout in an atomic pattern.”
“Hi,” said Rey for the third time, and waved a little. “So I’m driving into town to buy gravel, and I was going to pick up lunch, but … it can wait.”
“It can’t wait, you have an appointment. I’m not paying you -- in experience -- to learn that most marital disputes are about money,” said Hux.
“Can you stop at Chipotle?” asked Kylo.
Hux’s Clubmasters flashed.
Rey hadn’t survived more than half her internship by being an idiot, so she started to back away, but answered honestly: “Yeah.”
“I want,” said Kylo, “a burrito bowl with extra--”
“Don’t,” said Hux.
“We can’t waste her time, can we? Extra guacamole.”
Fill: House Flippers AU [1/?]
Kylo Ren spent a lot of his time thinking about proportion, symmetry, and form. He knew that his own face subverted generic handsomeness -- but it drew the eye diagonally, it delivered visual harmony through the repetition of his dark hair and eyes.
He liked his face, but reflected in Hux’s mirrored Ray-Ban Clubmasters, it appeared to be pouting.
He squinted and leaned in, smoothing one of his eyebrows with a knuckle.
“Excuse me,” said Hux, “Narcissus. Did you hear what I said?”
“Not the specifics. Something about Chipotle?”
Hux crossed his arms. “Ren, I am one hundred percent serious, we’re running too close to the line to afford guacamole right now, and if I catch you again it’s coming out of the interior budget.”
“So it comes from the interior budget. Where are we on the pool tile?”
“Your choice. One-by-one slate, or one-by-one blue blend.”
“I wanted --”
“I know you wanted to hand-pattern a five color modern honeycomb, but I just told you we couldn’t accord guacamole.”
“I thought we were sacrificing the guacamole so we could afford the tile.”
The small, mid-construction LA yard was quiet for a few moments. Kylo heard the dry sound of palm trees in the wind.
“I am going to have a stroke,” said Hux. “And it will be your fault.”
“Fine,” said Kylo. “I’ll use my power of attorney to pull the plug on you and order five colors of tile. Then I will work through my grief by hand-patterning a modern honeycomb in the pool.”
“Excuse me,” said Rey behind Kylo’s right shoulder.
“I’m going inside,” said Hux. His voice was quiet and tense, the way it was last year when he had taken the keys to Kylo’s Cayenne and thrown them into the ocean from Justin Bobby Brescia’s yacht.
“Sorry,” Rey said again. They ignored her.
“Go,” said Kylo. “Have your stroke inside. No one will ever find you, because I’ll be out here trying to transform one-by-one blue blend glass tile into something modern if I have to spill my blood into the grout in an atomic pattern.”
“Hi,” said Rey for the third time, and waved a little. “So I’m driving into town to buy gravel, and I was going to pick up lunch, but … it can wait.”
“It can’t wait, you have an appointment. I’m not paying you -- in experience -- to learn that most marital disputes are about money,” said Hux.
“Can you stop at Chipotle?” asked Kylo.
Hux’s Clubmasters flashed.
Rey hadn’t survived more than half her internship by being an idiot, so she started to back away, but answered honestly: “Yeah.”
“I want,” said Kylo, “a burrito bowl with extra--”
“Don’t,” said Hux.
“We can’t waste her time, can we? Extra guacamole.”