The Lady of Ren

"Poe Dameron...the best pilot in the Resistance."

You circle your finger on the rim of your water glass. The cantina behind your roars with life but begins to gradually fade in the background. You've no reason to enjoy the sounds of life when yours is on the line. The culture of Tatooine makes your stomach ache. You wonder if your bones will be buried here; the thought brings acid to bubble in your throat.

Kylo seems more relaxed than you expected. He leans in the back of his chair, one hand gripping his glass of whatever concoction he's ordered. The scent of the alcohol is strong - maybe it's straight liqueur. You've never seen Kylo drink but you're not surprised he's a dry man, his taste matching the severeness of his image. You watch him situate himself in his seat and notice how human he looks. One arm is draped around the back of the chair and his ankles cross underneath the table.

For some reason, your mouth waters at this.

"Because he's here, they'll be others..." he mumbles, bringing the glass to his lips. He takes a large drink - his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp.

Hux sits beside you, his eyes concentrating on the way his drink swirls in his mug. A film of an oil-like substance coats the top and you lift your lip in disgust. What the hell do these men drink?

"They know we're here," he begins. He sighs and runs a hand through his windswept hair; grains of sand escape the tresses and dusts the surface of the table. "Every member of the Resistance has been educated on our faces, our backgrounds..." he pauses, looking towards the commander beside him. He raises a ginger brow. "With the exception of Ren, of course."

You'r more irritated by this than frightened. You exhale, indignation camouflaging your expression. "What do we do? We can't leave. They'll have this planet surrounded."

Behind you, a group of a species you don't recognize roars with laughter as they play holochess. A flickering, green creature with large, buggy eyes tosses another player from the board. The two of them dissipate, leaving the friends arguing with one another. Both you and Kylo observe them for a moment, a smile threatening before remembering the situation at hand.

"We wait," Kylo says, penetrating the brisk silence between the three of you.

At this, Hux lowers his brows. "Has the heat gone to your head, Ren?"

The commander, eyes darkening, stares into the general's very core. "Do you have a better idea?"

Hux rolls his eyes, taking another swig of his grimy drink. Part of you desperately wants to ask him what he's ordered, your curiosity overwhelming. Gods, you think. Am I really concerned about the damn drink?

You shake your head, clearing the trivial interest in Hux's order. "He's right," you say. "There's nothing more we can do."

Hux straightens in his seat, looking appalled. "Ridiculous," he scoffs before turning to Kylo. "You of all people refusing to fight."

The knight ignores him, continuing to watch the game of holochess, though his eyes are far away. You swear you can see his scrutiny develop a sense of melancholy. The vibrations from him are cold, though a hint of something you've never felt from him overwhelms your senses.

It's homesickness.

Your eyebrows knit together and your gaze upon him softens. Hux must notice this because he mumbles something incoherent under his breath; he leaves the table without another word, pushing BB out of his way. The little droid beeps angrily at him before slipping into rest mode once more.

The general is out of hearing distance when Kylo says, "You're not drinking."

You look up to find his expression softening, all traces of longing disappearing from his cooling, dark eyes. "Yes I am," you reply, taking a sip of your water.