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"Say, you're playing well, captain," Colonel Thrippe says to Hux. "If we were playing for money, you would have all of it." His words are amiable, and Hux can't detect an underlying threat, but Hux knows how quickly suspicion can be aroused. The colonel, as evidenced by his stories, has a good memory and an eye for detail. From then on Hux is mindful to play neither too well nor too badly.

Hux likes the colonel. He would be a pleasant presence on a ship, welcoming and reasonable. But Hux also can't help but think about how easily he could end the colonel's career. It wouldn't be difficult at all. People distrust kindness, especially during war.

“Did you see that hairstyle General Tempto sported the other day?” the officer who dealt the cards asks. She has a light accent, green-tinged skin, and purpled lips. She’s part-human, then, and lucky to have been accepted into the academy. Though years have passed since the empire, many people, including Hux’s father, clung to its archaic ideas, such as human superiority.

“It's terrible,” another officer agrees. “You can tell she’s trying to keep up with the Core’s current styles. My kid sister has the same hair.”

They all laugh. Hux doesn’t, too caught up in his thoughts. Of course he’s overheard gossip before, it’s unavoidable, but never discussed so openly before him. The conversation may not be the most savory, but what's Hux appreciates is the meaning behind it, or the lack, thereof. No ulterior motive lurks beyond the words, like an enemy ship behind a cloaking device.

Major Sier turns to Hux. “I don’t understand what goes on in the Core, sometimes. Have you ever been, captain?”

“Yes, it’s a peculiar place,” Hux agrees. “The First Order will set things right, once we vanquish them. They’ll be concerned with other things, then.” His mind drifts to the highly classified plans for Starkiller, and Hux's heart skips a beat in excitement.

He’s dead serious, but the group of officers start laughing again. “So morbid!” says the officer who dealt the cards. The audible twang in her voice isn’t just laughter, but the natural way she speaks. “Lighten up, captain. It's a simple conference. We’ll just be checking up on the facilities, bring each other up to speed. No need for all - that.” She waves her hand.

Hux should have known better. His unnatural fervor for the First Order hadn't endeared him to people at the academy, either. “Sorry,” Hux mumbles. Immediately, he’s shocked at himself. He doesn’t mumble. Hux prides himself on his clear speech. He waits for them to take advantage of his slip-up.

But instead, they continue gossiping about their superior officers. Even though a few of them look at Hux with amusement, it's not his failure that's funny to them. The revelation is a punch to his face, unprecedented and painful, and his heart palpitates as a result. They think HE'S funny. And they're . . . fond of him, for that.

“This conference is different, though,” Colonel Thrippe reminds. “We’re also here to honor Commandant Hux.”

A smirk twitches in the corner of Major Sier’s mouth. “Speaking of which, did you hear that General Hux is on the Vitiator? Finally joining the rest of us mere mortals.”

Hux freezes up. He keeps his eyes trained on his hand of cards. Panicked thoughts careen through his mind, like malfunctioning speeders. Did she know his identity the entire time? Was she toying with him, in order to humiliate him to the fullest extent? Hux tries desperately to get a handle on himself. To get back his usual emotionless mask. It's more difficult than it usually is.

“Is that so?” he says, keeping his voice level. He looks up to search her face for anything, a hint that she knows, but she’s turning away, talking to the others.

“He never shows up to the conferences,” she explains. “Thinks he’s too good for them. My cousin works on the Finalizer, says he’s an ass.” She looks over at Colonel Thrippe. “Pardon my language, sir.”

Colonel Thrippe smiles at her. His expression is akin to how an instructor would smile at a favored pupil. “It’s your special day, major, so I'll bend the rules for you. Besides -” he lowers his voice “- I’ve heard similar things.”

They’re laughing again. Hux can’t bring himself to be angry at them. It’s - it’s not their fault that they dislike him. He’s never tried to endear himself to anyone. Hux is the only one responsible for his own reputation.

Hux wonders if he was mistaken to keep his distance from other people. It would be pleasant, after a battle, to talk with a group of his peers. To joke and snip about their coworkers. Hux saves the idea in his mind, for future use, or at least review. At any rate, it's certainly interesting to hear what people think of him, without filtering themselves.

Major Sier wins the game by a landslide. Hux isn’t sure whether that’s because she is truly good at cards, or because her comrades allowed her to win. The second possibility, though a phenomenon which Hux has observed before, is one he cannot understand. Why would one accept a victory borne only of other people’s mercy?

"I'm so tired of all this delay," one of the officers complains. "General Yew's ship just had to have a shield malfunction. He should have flown to Arkanis anyway. Security risks, my ass. No one'll attack that fossil."

Major Sier gets a glint in her eyes. "Yew's not arriving until late morning tomorrow," she says, voice low but excited. "It's only 1900 here. We can fly out to Vasch, and have a few drinks, and get back before it's too late."

A murmur of agreement arises from the group. Hux half expects Colonel Thrippe to chastise them all, as the senior officer, but no - he's smiling with the rest of them.

A strange excitement tingles in Hux's body, like a trickle of cold water. They’re supposed to stay put. They’re risking getting caught, a possibility Hux doesn’t even want to think about. It's plain irresponsible. But - it may just be worth it. For a moment Hux remembers that he needs to write the speech about his father, but he decides it can wait.

"By the way," Major Sier says to Hux, "I never caught your name, captain. We can't get drunk together if we don't even know you."

Hux hesitates. A flash of white-hot panic jumps through his heart, making it pound faster. His father's voice whispers in his ear: Lie well. You need people's trust if you're ever going to amount to anything.

Hux feels the datapad balanced on his lap quiver. He realizes it's because he's shaking.

The door opens with a distinctive whoosh. The relief that floods Hux's lungs chokes him, and he feels dizzy. They all turn to the new arrival. It's only a stormtrooper. Their nondescript armor reflects the bright light of the common room. Hux finds himself squinting a little.

The stormtrooper salutes awkwardly to the room, and Hux frowns in disapproval. The stormtrooper must be new, if they haven’t mastered such a basic gesture –

But that train of thought comes to a screeching halt when the stormtrooper faces Hux.

"General Hux, General Yew requests your presence in holo-room B. He said something about a delay in his arrival."

Hux’s throat is dry. He's acutely aware of the hushed silence around him. The beginnings of anger flicker in his mind as he stares at the stormtrooper, but the sparks don’t catch. For a wild second, he wonders if he can deny his identity. If he can tell the stormtrooper that they're mistaken. But realization burns deep in his bones: this was bound to happen.

"Tell him I will be there shortly," he says. His voice trembles at the end. Hux takes a deep breath, futilely hoping to compose himself.

If he's losing their trust, he might as well lose it completely. "And tell him that I hope his officers are more disciplined than the ones on the Vitiator." No one says anything, but Hux feels the tension in the room rise. He's steeped in it, like a drowning victim in water.

The stormtrooper salutes again. "Yes, sir." Those familiar words fill Hux's ears, a reminder of reality. Then the soldier is gone.

Hux considers turning around and saying something. He doesn't know what. Still, doesn't he owe them an explanation?

But his tongue is heavy and unwieldy in his mouth. In the end, Hux doesn't spare them a backwards glance. He walks out the room. As soon as the doors shut behind him, Hux lets out a broken breath. He stares up at the pristine ceiling, drops his datapad with a loud clatter, and digs his fingernails into his palms, letting the prickling pain balance out the screaming in his head.

He was foolish to think that he could be what he was not. But - he blinks hard - at least the experience wasn't pointless. Every failure can be learned from. The harder a lesson is to learn, Commandant Hux used to say, the more useful it is.

Hux curls his hands into tight fists. He's only learned one thing - he doesn't belong in that room. He doesn't belong with those people. The lump in the back of his throat, the stifling pressure on his chest, crushing him into splinters - it's inconsequential. Hux walks his own path, and if it so happens to be lonely, that doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter.

Hux starts to adjust himself. Straightens his clothes, swipes a hand through his hair, picks up his datapad. He's not sure if he's imagining the muffled voices behind the door, swelling in his ears until his head throbs and pulses along with his hurtling heartbeat. Hux schools his face so it's blank again, and pushes the entire debacle from his mind.

It shouldn't matter.

oh. oh, my. you've made me feel sorry for Hux.
great job, nonny! excellent fill.

Awwww. Hux. That was a very poignant ending. The whole things was rather sweet and sad at the same time.

Oh wow this was excellent. Hux is so aloof, so paranoid, so much harsher than everyone else, that simply playing cards with pseudo-peers is a rollercoaster of tension! I liked how Commandant Hux was a constant presence in his mind, lurking, twisting his son from beyond the grave.

Also I think this:
Typically Hux likes writing speeches. But he's having difficulty stringing together words about Commandant Hux that don't include "terrible father" and "decrepit mind" and "I will celebrate his death as the greatest blessing ever bestowed upon this galaxy, and I advise all present today to do the same and savor the long-overdue departure of this wretched excuse for a man".

-- should be framed and placed on a ROASTED WALL OF FAME somewhere because daaaaamn.

my heart :( this was a lovely fill

Oh, Hux. Poor lamb.

Fills like this make me want to rescue all the First Order members and take them to some nice soothing planet for deprogramming, with therapy sessions and baking and lots of hugs. Poor Hux.

I love it.

Thank you for the lovely comments, I was really nervous!

I'll probably put this on ao3 eventually. I'll post the link on the fills page (https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/518.html?thread=8041734#cmt8041734)

ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6361987

Damn, this is amazing. Poor Hux -especially the part at the end with his message about the crew's discipline - I wish he hadn't done that but it is very fitting.
( I'll be honest, I'd kill for a glimpse at this whole thing from the POV of one of the other people present)

da

I think it's a safe assumption that after Hux leaves they collectively shit themselves, but I'd like to see the whole thing from their side as well.

Oh no

Oh no

It was so heartwarming and now my heart is broken

Like you were just defrosting it so it would splinter better

Oh noooo

Well done

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PROMPT POST #4

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