Masquerade [ Ft. Banks & November ]

N

November

Super-Earth
Joined
Jul 20, 2015
The task is difficult because you choose for it to be difficult. Do you ever wonder why you do that so often?

Kylo Ren chewed the inside of his cheek. He could feel his sweat pooling against the tile, almost splashing against his bare back. No one could accuse him of a lack of effort.

He looked around, but he'd practically designed the room to preclude that. The quarters were spartan - thin, itchy fabric and hard metal. No personal mementos, for obvious reasons. He'd designed his entire life to eliminate pondering and encourage action. But now...

You don't conquer a mind, Ren. A mind is a powerful entity. A mind is... convinced.

He'd been working on the damned probe for months now - with prisoners, with hostages, with dignitaries, even with the odd stormtrooper. He'd gotten glimpses here and there, but for the most part... only headaches.

What have I been teaching you? To apply yourself with an open mind. Not to think of yourself as a student of one path or another, but to shed your identity.

Snoke insisted that he needed to forget himself in order to read someone, that he needed to fully immerse himself in his target...

Kylo pulled himself from the floor, threw on a thin set of cotton scrubs, followed it with his ceremonial robes and mask, before heading to the ad-junction room of the Gauntlet. As usual, most people studiously ignored him - and since he rarely made an entrance on the bridge, most of the staff could go on pretending he didn't exist.

Gauntlet. What a name for a ship.

"Fedorre. What a pleasure to see you alive."

"It's a pleasure to see you awake, Ren." The Admiral sneered down his long nose at him, as if Kylo hadn't personally saved his fucking life at Gyndine. He was like every Order officer he'd interacted with the last couple of years. All narrow eyes, rudeness, and barely concealed nervousness. "Do you know what system you're in?"

"Mimban."

"Chandrila. You were quite a bit off."

"Are you here to demonstrate your superior knowledge, or..."

"I'm here to relay orders. They're directly from the Supreme Leader."

"About the blockade?"

Fedorre pressed his lips together and nodded, as if impressed. "It's been almost a year without any real results. He's seen fit to break that blockade."

That's not the sort of thing that would need his particular skills. A large-scale planetary invasion? When he was still supposed to be tracking Skywalker? There was no chance he'd be there. So... "You want me to go planetside."

"The Supreme Leader wants you to speak to the Governor of Chandrila. He assured me that you'd be able to... convince him to surrender the planet."

Never was he so happy to be wearing this mask. He swallowed. He'd never been able to do it properly. And now the Supreme Leader wanted him to do some... special operation? With an entire planet at stake?

"I know Chandrila's military doesn't have the finest reputation, but sending me down there alone is ridiculous."

"Oh. I never said you'd be going alone."
 
" . . Got to be a fucking clone. "

It had been said before, out of jest and slight tease. That was usually the last line of someone's mind working in defense, to make a joke in a situation that they felt absolutely screwed in. In situations where one needed a distraction, it was like some chemical the brain released to keep one from realizing they were basically right at the edge of shitting themselves. That being said, she didn't really mind being compared to one of those failed attempts from a previous regime, the comparison made with connection of the body on top of him being smooth and swift in her action. The year before when they had heard the rumor of a woman joining their ranks, there had been faint whispers made with excitement, expecting another to slip behind one of numerous controlled, desk positions. She couldn't mentally handle it. To say the very least just the idea was boring, but the lifestyle itself made her want to be sucked out into the atmosphere, but in bringing her mind back into the reality, her fist raised as her eyes regained focus to the man beneath her trying to nearly suck his head and helmet into his body to avoid the punch. Rare should the situation turn into having someone attack you without a weapon, but the situation could occur, the simulation proving as such when the scene around them disappeared, the sound of gears shifting and something within the walls humming reminding her that this was merely practice.

" Hm. "

Standing now after pulling her opposite hand away from the gulping neck, the fingers on each hand wiggled softly before a faint nod was given and the thud of her boots carried her away. Helmet straight in her walk through the hall, the light chatter was no distraction, entering her chambers with a soft whoosh of the sliding door, gloved hands freeing herself from the helmet's confines. Breathing out softly, her eyes wandered aimlessly to the mirror out of a habit recently gained by change, closing the distance to her reflection and shifting her fingers through her hair. It was rare that she was without her helmet, deciding it long ago to simply keep herself from being apparent unless speaking, though the change almost gave a twinge of relief that wasn't often felt. The choppy haired woman's head turned sharply when the knock came from outside, glaring sharply at the door as she awaited the words that followed. " Admiral Fedorre has requested to speak to you, by order of Supreme Leader- "

" Leave. "

Almost instantly at her request, she could have sworn she heard the lips of the stormtrooper outside her door form into a line before he left, eyes tracing the lines in the floor before meeting back to her helmet. While she wasn't particularly in favor of having the Admiral wait, and with this she clicked the Commander pauldron onto her arm, the white suited stormtrooper slid the helmet back over her head before leaving her quarters again. While there was no real joy in going to see the Admiral, there was almost equally no joy in figuring out why he had that snarky look on his face, breathing out within her concealment just in time to hear, ". . . I never said you'd be going alone. " Clearly the Admiral was one for dramatics. Nodding her head softly in greeting to the shorter Fedorre, in proper lighting, the stormtrooper could cast one hell of a shadow over him, though that would be something to laugh at when she was alone later.

" He is sending you with Commander Phasma, to persuade him to. . Release the planet to us. It is inhabited, so you will be among civilians. "

Though no protest was heard, the slight tilt of her head was evident when the woman heard the short version of what was happening, realizing she probably should have just pretended she hadn't heard anything at all. Pretended she hadn't heard the request, pretended she was busy doing something else. But. This was for the First Order, and she had a duty. Unfortunately that meant dealing with. . Others. Others who weren't conditioned, others who weren't trained to kill since childhood. . Just simply civilians. Just the thought made her stomach churn.
 
He appraised the newcomer as she entered the room. Of course, he'd heard about this one by reputation, but he'd only recently signed on to the Gauntlet, and so…

She cut an impressive figure - the thing that struck him first was her cleanliness. Most troopers kept their armor to a dull sheen, the sort of acceptable and functional appearance that soldiers tended to have. This woman either had a microscopic attention to detail or she was a bit vain.

After that there was… well, the obvious thing. She oozed a calm, professional menace, and looked like nothing if not a walking tank. Which was to say she was very poorly suited to this kind of mission.

“Now I understand,” He growled. “You're sending TWO of us to infiltrate a hostile planet. My confidence in our chances has skyrocketed.”

“If it were up to me, we would attack the planet with a full complement of forces.” He waved a hand, displaying a hologram of some imaginary battle over Chandrila. Kylo scowled, watching the ships dancing around each other in the upper atmosphere. Was this display supposed to be impressive? “But the First Order doesn't have unlimited resources, and the contingent we'd need to openly take a fortified planet are… otherwise occupied.”

“Turn your hologram off, Admiral. ”

“This is Kylo Ren. He's a personal student of the Supreme Leader, and he is the asset were going to use to secure Chandrila.” He gestured upwards. “Commander Phasma is here to keep you on course, assist you with intermediate targets, and secure your escape if you fail your mission.”

He sank backwards into the chair and thought about this. He knew there was meaning in… euphemisms, technicalities, polite little nothings. People hid so many hurtful things in sweet sentences like those. “You want this… person… to babysit me.”

“I'm not doing anything but relaying your orders. We are just extensions of the will of - “

“Spare me your idle talk, Admiral. If I need to go alone, I'll just go alone. Her contribution here would be completely insignificant. ” Kylo dug his hands into the table and stood up, fixing the towering stormtrooper with a dismissive glare. “Insignificant at best. Send the data to my pad, and -”

“Ren, I haven't finished.”

“What else IS there.”

“You aren't to wear your armor. Or carry your lightsaber. This needs to look like it came from Chandrila. You'll need to land planetside, get biometric data, infiltrate the capital, do… whatever you're going to do with the governor, and leave.”

“Again. I'll resolve the situation myself.” He turned to the Commander and spoke, the faintest hint of a grin creeping into his voice. “As for you. Supreme Leader Snoke is apparently aware you exist. That must be momentous for you.”
 
While she had momentarily blacked out before in her previous endeavour, this seemed nearly critical to pay attention to. Being sent off the ship wasn't a problem, not at all. It was dealing with those who weren't in line with the First Order, specifically as a stormtrooper. No one outside of their ranks responded well to the white suit stepping foot on land that the Resistance had more so promised to keep protected. There had been many times when arriving at a planet that people either kept themselves clenched and contained or openly angry, thus usually resulting in altercation. So why send them down alone. Surely, she wasn't being sent to protect him from everything. The word of the knight of Ren joining their ship had spread rapidly, stories twisted in regards to his beginnings, only tidbits confirmed when efforts of the Force were shown.

And like so many others, she had steered clear of this Kylo Ren. Not out of fear, but quite frankly, out of lack of concern. They were here for different reasons, though each a stretch of Snoke's growing power. It was then they both heard the underlying truth as to why the woman was here, her stance shifting now as the first audible sound was heard. The sigh that normally would have cleared her mind, then showed a moment of frustration, annoyance. Were there not better things to do than keep him from having a fit outside of the Gauntlet? There had been one or two times she had passed a set of men she outranked, cleaning up the mess of this one. Now here was the grand opportunity to be the one to do it herself. Joy.

Alas, all this mental strife would be tossed aside. It was for the growth of the First Order, nevermind the wants of this grown child. Standing stoic behind the chair that sat a short distance from Ren's, his distaste causing a soft click of her tongue to her teeth. " I do not own proper civilian clothing, " Of course, that was already arranged for, as even being on a planet in simply a black body suit could prove as odd. Turning now as the announcement of Snoke being aware of her existence, her figure shifted in the direction of the black cloaked man, almost swearing she heard the tense inhale the Admiral retrieved.

" Yes, the Supreme Leader being aware of my insignificance is. . . Momentous, " If that's what you wanted to call it. " But he has requested I babysit you, nonetheless. " There it was, within her chilled tone, what caused the Admiral to stand quickly and clear his throat, smoothing out his cost with habitual care. " A ship is prepared for you to leave within the hour. " Head turning again after completely ignoring the idea that Ren was going alone, a soft mod was granted before the woman left almost as quickly as she had come.

The time leading up to their flight from the ship have her plenty of time to fume within the comfort of her chamber, even more so when the bag of clothing was brought to her. The situation in itself made her uncomfortable, even more so to find that she was going out of armour. It felt like being nude, and it was terrifying. Staring at herself in the mirror, it had been a while since she had seen herself in something other than variants of her uniform, only finding genuine comfort in the fact it was black. Had it not been for her height, she found she probably could've slipped around unnoticed, though with the rare glimpse of the leggy creature in less than her hauntingly clean uniform was enough to make one look twice. The collar of the black one piece meeting to grip around her neck, arms exposed and free of both armor and the normal bruising that came with fighting so consistently.

Heavy bust rising and falling gently, the eyes that ventured continued upon reaching the bay, her eyes locked into the Admiral immediately. He was the messenger, but this was his fault. " Oh, Phasma. . You- you cut your hair. " As if trying to make light of her being uncomfortable.

All of this had to be some cruel, cruel test.
 
It was as if the entire mission had been carefully designed to annoy him. He scratched the side of his face and scowled down at the thin pad Fedorre had shoved into his hands.

There had to be someone with skills better suited to this.

He'd even said so out loud. It was as close as he'd come to rejecting an assignment. They hadn't even given him the dignity of trying to convince him. Phasma had left as though he weren't there, and of course Fedorre stood up and made a list of excuses as soon as he could, backpedaling out of the room.

Now he was back in his own quarters, looking at old intelligence. Blueprints, names, faces he didn't really have the skill to retain. Anything to distract him from the box at his feet.

Kylo let out an aggravated grunt and kicked it, like he could change the chemical properties of what he was wearing through absolute, dogged hatred. A tight, white number with an orange belt. A couple of red squares to pin on his chest. An ill fitting cape with some sort of fake fur lining the inside. Was this what they wore on Chandrila? The outfit didn't even have gloves. Where… what was he supposed to do with his hands?

He ripped off his mask. Usually it provided him some comfort, kept him on the offensive in social situations. But now the mask was making a little plasticine squeak as he ripped it off, a blast of warm air hit his cheeks, and the whole thing felt pathetic.

He stripped with a resigned sigh. Kylo reflected on the sheer amount of time he'd spent wearing one uniform or another, practically since childhood. Usually some sort of flowing robe that forced him to be more… deliberate. He threw on the white long sleeved number that stick to his chest and began to change.

It really struck him, minutes later, how different the air was on his face as opposed to reflected through his mask. Colder and thinner. He locked eyes with the ship in the background, a tiny beige number.

“That's the most luxurious escape pod I've ever set my eyes upon.”

He felt like a sulking child pointing it out, but it certainly wasn't inaccurate. He felt like everyone was… looking at him now.

Fedorre was on his heels, as if he was ready to dismiss himself as soon as he’d finish talking. What a wonderful strategy Phasma had introduced him to.

“Seized during the blockade. We’ve scrubbed the identification and given it false information. Some smaller ships do get through fairly often. You shouldn’t raise too many alarms with your mere presence.”

”That’s wonderful.” He gave Phasma another look of appraisal. She didn’t look quite as overwhelming without the suit on. He wryly noted that the first thoughts that came to mind to describe her appearance were things he heard said about himself. A sort of hesitant acknowledgement of attractiveness that still thought there was something… a bit odd in the mix.

And all that had just made him… cynical about looks and being looked at, with a self image that veered wildly when he wasn’t ignoring it altogether.

He knocked on the ship’s door gruffly, as if expecting the thing to fall apart.

“I’ve taken rides in worse,” he said ruefully. “If you’d believe it.”
 
If one were to think of the truly uncomfortable member of this gathering, it was easily dear Admiral Fedorre. Why he had to stand between a brick wall and an equally difficult to speak to user of the Force. He had to have made a quiet attempt at escaping these orders, the weasely sort usually did, yet here he was among the two dressed in common clothing. Why, they almost looked normal, and that in itself was damn near frightening. But as they all knew, their Supreme Leader had his reasons for everything he did. That didn't make it any less clear that none of them wished to be here. Her hands had found her sides, noticing now the pieces cut out just before the material of her skirt began, thankful at least for the length lightly dancing along the floor. It was hard enough to be dressed like this in the first place. So few, if any, of these men had seen her without her helmet, and now she stood with the thought of where she was going to put her-

" No guns. "

The amber hues of her eyes lifted now, narrowing critically, the seconds were counted in her head, because it would either be the Admiral or herself to speak first. Four seconds of her eyes staring harshly into his and the Admiral quickly recovered, " At least, not your usual. " Even that didn't sound promising, and it wasn't, being handed the small pistol and a small holster made for concealing. " You do realize that by the time I get through this thing to this gun to shoot anything, he'll be dead, hm? " Unfortunately, her words rang true if there were shots, though the First Order had done things quite differently in their training since the faulty troopers of the past. But clearly this mission was made to be one of calm nature, now finding she would have preferred using what little resources they had to simply attack the planet. Just get it over with. Leaning down carefully, the blonde began pulling the hem of her skirt up, swearing she heard a distant sound of a man inhaling from some dark corner to spy from. Revealing the boots made for combat and not necessarily the pretty, delicate things she had been given to add to this outfit, the woman was already a towering creature as it was, slipping the band of the holster up her leg, one hand holding the hem of the dress hiked while the other adjusted the gun.

It looked like a toy against her thigh.

The woman carefully let the skirt adjust itself over her shoes, it was then she noticed the outfit they had given the man she was deemed to protect. Well. . At least she didn't look like that. Raising an eyebrow softly, whether it was the belt or the fur, Phasma couldn't decide, but it almost triggered a laugh, deciding to save it for later, as this was already a tense situation. " Yes? " Her brow remained raised upon catching Ren inspecting her again, as now it was different than simply being a tall stormtrooper. Now she wasn't under the anonymous guise she found the most comfort in, even more so with her body clinging onto her femininity. Being a woman wasn't the problem, but the expectations that came behind it were. Moving toward the beige metal that had damn well better actually make it to the planet, Phasma had had enough of looking at the flighty eyes of the Admiral, already ready to be back in the closed off space of her chambers, or at least out of this damn outfit.

" Let's get this over with. "
 
He would have been perfectly fine slumping onto this sloop and getting on with this affair, he really would have. As awful and uncomfortable as he looked (and felt) he had other things on his mind, things more pressing than local fashion. He needed to master this skill, for the first time, "lose his identity" as Snoke had told him... and somehow do that while feeling like a fucking goose.

And then this woman had locked eyes with him, said that sly, sneering Yes? as if he was some boy looking at her through a peephole. Something about using that as some kind of parry, like she expected it to shake him up, offended him a bit. He licked his teeth, feeling his sneer somehow deepening.

"I'm a bit tense, and you are officially the most entertaining thing in the room." He pressed his thumb in a little pocket to the side of the door and waited a second for the door to open with a squeaking grunt that didn't exactly inspire confidence. "Since you needed my insights into your..." he waved a hand up and down here, "... situation."

Fedorre let out a very small snicker - whether it was at her or the absurdity of the situation, it was gone by the time the two of them locked eyes on him. "Well," Kylo grumbled finally, "tell all our friends we miss them."

Ah. About that. He shuffled off, looking for somewhere comfortable to sit. Hopefully this woman would assume he didn't know to fly.
 
Oh. Oh it was going to be that sort of trip.

Though the expression on her face was that of someone who was right at the point of responding, the sound caught both of their ears and veered their vision directly to the Admiral. If it hadn't have been him, it would have been someone else. Her situation. At least she didn't look like a fucking goose. Either way, she would let this one slide under the rug among with two more strikes this man had during this babysitting trip. Of course upon entering the ship, the woman watched him make his awkward shuffle away from the cockpit, closing her eyes and sighing softly as she should have assumed. The stormtrooper sliding into the immediately uncomfortable pilot's seat, with a few switches the machine whirred to life, glaring and resisting the urge to mouth something foul to Fedorre as they began their journey off the Gauntlet.

The faint rattles of things within the ship made her faintly uncomfortable, looking up at the condition this husk of metal had been left in. They couldn't have targeted a better ship from the blockade, hm? With another rattle in the silence leaving her tired of the silence, the cool chill of her voice began again, " Well, are you going to brief me? " A small portion of her was curious as to why Snoke felt the need to send his prized student in the first place, when there was potential risk. Perhaps that was another reason she was placed directly in the eyes of their Supreme Leader. That thought alone was absolutely daunting. While Phasma had never found herself directly focused on being one to praise a being itself, as there were more than enough times on record to show that devoting ones life to another was. . Well, absolutely disastrous.

It wasn't long at all before the planet came into view, potentially thirty minutes out judging by this ship's capabilities, eyes taking in the spaces of blue and green, the swirl of the clouds. Pleasant, and it again made sense as to why they didn't simply send them down as stormtroopers and an angry man in a cloak.
 
Kylo sank into the weirdy rounded chair behind her. He felt every bit like a child getting escorted to an appointment, which he hated, but he didn't have to channel his frustration into something as tedious as flying just yet, and that... was a relief.

And so he was quiet for a long time after she'd asked him about a "briefing"... he'd actually expected her to bring it up again after a few minutes, but they both knew he'd heard her.

Finally, when he was ready, he cleared his throat.

"I only know a little more than you do. We're going to infiltrate the capital as aides to one dignitary or another. We get into the governor's office. I am going to... convince him to stand down, deactivate the planet's defensive systems, and allow for some... new management. Then we get back to the Gauntlet and I throw these clothes into an airlock."

He probably should have given the full details of how he was going to accomplish that. But right now, he didn't feel quite confident enough to speak it out loud. If he tried the technique and failed, he'd need to... improvise something else, wouldn't he? As if he wasn't embarrassed enough. He had to imagine the debriefing was part of why Phasma was there.

A reliable, impartial informer. In some ways, she was the quintessential Order solider - a hard, sneering, disciplined sort. And in other ways... it struck him that she was very relaxed in his presence. If there'd been any consideration of the idea that he could kill her with a particularly strenuous thought, it hadn't shown up on her face.

If anything, she treated him like an annoyance. Something about that word, babysit. It had been obvious mockery when he'd said it, but she'd done her best to make it a neutral statement of fact.

Funny. There'd have to be some small answering for that, later.

What was he getting at here? It seemed like the officers he'd interacted with were pretending to be what this woman was. Or at minimum, she was a much calmer actor.

"Please don't ask me about the strategic logic of any of this. If you've thought about it as much as I have and you're thinking..." Kylo started with his small finger and counted outwards. "Why is it important that Chandrila stands down by themselves? Why not just do this deactivation ourselves? Why not a familiar face with my... talents instead of you? I don't know."

He stood up and crossed over in front of her, taking a seat on the console right in front of her and at least partially blocking her view. He titled his head and looked down at her.

"You won't be offended if I ask about your talents, will you? You at least have some vague familiarity with mine, which puts you at an advantage over me. Amazing scores at academy? Someone's bodyguard in a past life? Great with a blaster? I acknowledge that you're excellent at scowling, but that's a skill that's in abundance around here." Kylo leaned backwards, distantly nothing the irony of his statement before a beeping noise came from his pad.

"You won't believe this," he said, reading it over. "The two of us aren't actually in the capital's security computer. We need to break into another site and add ourselves manually."

The Admiral hadn't exactly given them a free hand here, but he used the phrase "some minimum amount of restraint" in the memo...

Really, a few dead techs or guards wouldn't matter if the Order was swarming the planet by the end of the day. On the other hand, razing the place and butchering everything inside... obviously, word of that sort of thing would get around quickly.

"I actually feel... relieved. It's not kind to say you're in the mood to hurt someone, and yet..." He gave an awkward smile, not knowing or caring how she'd take that. You never knew how a person felt about that based on their manner.
 
The silence hadn't bothered her, and certainly wouldn't torment her enough to ask him again, hands gripping the W shaped steering wheel as the thought crossed her mind again, eyes wandering off the path and toward a set of meteors. No, it wasn't that critical, not yet anyway. Besides, the man behind her had things to accomplish, hm? His reputation had floated around, both in her time as a cadet and in a sudden flurry when word had gotten out that he would be joining the Gauntlet, uninterested as a cadet and still uninterested. He had his reasons for being there, and unlike her own, they weren't for the First Order, it didn't at all cause her distaste for him. Rumors of his abilities with the Force, stories told, and catching tail ends of a fit or two, had all been added to his reputation. As far as Phasma was concerned, they were on different paths with no real need to cross. Unless of course. . Things like today happened.

Nodding her head softly to acknowledge she had been listening, blinking faintly from her trance when she heard him shift from his seat, the woman shifted her head faintly when he moved forward. While he slid himself into her line of vision, crossing her legs out of the sudden remembering that there could somewhat be something good out of not wearing her uniform. His questioning was almost amusing, turning her head again to look out into the black atmosphere around them, taking a soft bite of her bottom lip. Phasma had never necessarily been asked what got her to this point, merely being stared at from a distance, as it was comforting. Personal space and people keeping their boundaries, was wonderful. Whatever personal lessons the Supreme Leader had for Kylo Ren, she herself was momentarily bothered that it had to concern her. What for, really.


It came with being who she was, unfortunately. When you attempted to keep within your own personal shadow while excelling, well it was enough to draw attention whether you wanted to or not, having slipped underneath the radar until things got a bit. . Difficult to do so. The memory of slipping up the ranks only to one day remove her helmet at a ceremony of her male peers, although it wasn't frowned upon, it was almost unbelievable to see a woman beneath the white uniform. However, none of these things came up when she answered his question, looking up at him again, " In a past life? " If this was another fucking clone joke. . " It isn't a scowl, it's my face, unfortunately. I don't appreciate how you respond to it. "

How to go over that she was simply better than what had been churned out from her batch of cadets. Well, she supposed it would be shown later. " You can not be serious. " Fucking Fedorre. How was she supposed to break into anything with a dress on. Eyes turning away from his as they grew near the planet, his words and smile albeit slightly uncomfortable, didn't cause a rise out of her, nails lightly tapping over the steering wheel again, " Sounds like you'll be seeing my talents then. "
 
Well, if she didn't appreciate his misdirected compliments... she really wouldn't appreciate the snorting laughter coming from his nose. "Sorry about that." As soon as he'd said it, he snickered a couple more times. Shit. He was beginning to understand why Fedorre had done it. The body works up enough tension and it escapes in the strangest of ways.

"My behavior I mean, not your face. I wouldn't say your face was unfortunate, really. It's... "

Of course, he'd backed himself into a terrible rhetorical corner, because now he had to look at her, look at her and render some sort of judgement. She had a broad, strong jawline (a bit stronger than his, if he were excruciatingly honest), a slightly crooked nose that had probably been popped out years before and never reset exactly right, bushy eyebrows that even he could tell she'd tried to tame in a dozen different ways before settling on walling them off at some angles out of frustration.

All of this stuff, features from a half-dozen different women, and a set of big gorgeous brown eyes. He hadn't come to much of a conclusion about her personally, but it was a pleasure to look at her. Thinking about what she looked like. Seeing her in different lights and angles...

The problem was putting all this into a word. Fascinating... captivating... these were accurate, but a bit strange. She'd be looking at him out of the corner of her eyes for the rest of their mission. Maybe the rest of their lives. It was something you told a bug before you dried out their carcass and pinned them to a fucking board.

Beautiful... handsome... Ingratiating and mechanical, respectively.

Of course the third option was to just vomit out his train of thought. A bit off-putting but would probably close the subject, just from sheer force of completeness.

"I mean, you've probably heard a dozen different things about your face, and decided you didn't like any of them for a dozen different reasons. It's your face. It's what I'd expect you to look like." This was probably even more mechanical than calling a woman handsome. Certainly no girl was ever raised hoping a boy would call her fucking "handsome" one day.

Still that was... enough, wasn't it? Feeling himself turning red, Kylo turned his back to her and checked out some landing settings on the dashboard. "As for your past life... you would be very surprised at what some of us did from a very young age, Commander."

They eventually landed at a port, getting through a rather.. accelerated clearance through port control. When he saw someone actually running through the shipyard to meet them, he actually panicked. Had they somehow been found out? But that didn't make sense. They'd certainly send more than one man if that were the case...

Kylo opened the door and let the man through. He was a heavyset man with butchers forearms, and he immediately wrapped his arms around Kylo and hugged him. His eyes boggled out, and he looked at Phasma with a mortified expression. Wasn't she supposed to protect him from these sorts of things.

"Thank the fuckin' Maker, we haven't had anybody get through in a week! You must be a hell of a pilot, son."

He wryly looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, almost thinking of passing the credit onto her, but what would that get her, aside from a hug from a very sweaty man? "Just got lucky."

He was already looking through the ship, feeling the walls and floors for secret compartments. "Okay, what'd you bring."

"Bring?"

The fat man paused. "You... outran an Imperial blockade in this bucket of bolts and you didn't... bring anything? Oil, spice, coal, anything?"

"It's the First Order."

"Sorry, what?"

Kylo froze, and one chunk of spit slowly, agonizingly slid down his throat. "I just... I just think we should be exacting about... you know. The taxonomy. Of words."

Snoke had made some brilliant plan. Except for this part. His gaze veered over to Commander Phasma. Which one of them was supposed to do the talking?
 
The hole he had so quickly dug around himself was the perfect level of amusing, hands coming together to lace fingers as she so patiently watched the wheels in his head turned. Watching as he so desperately tried to figure the correct thing to say in his head, this was not the first time a man had shot himself in the foot in conversation, and she knew there was plenty of opportunity for his words to bury him again later. Truthfully, he didn't have to say anything, he could have simply left it without a tail end, but instead he had as though he had already gone over this scenario in his head and suddenly forgot. He had suddenly forgot the words of a play that he'd wrote. " My face is. . What? " A distraction.

It had taken her a while to come to the decision to cut her once long tresses off, namely because she knew when the time came, her face would be left with only a few gentle whisps to frame around it, rather than the pale curtains that were there before. What distinct features her face had had, were no longer shielded by layers of both hair and a helmet, but instead left bare and available. It was. . A daunting change. The natural pout in her plush lips, the occasional doe expression in her eyes with thick eyelashes to match, it was strange how despite circumstances, Phasma was still feminine in all her hidden glory. Perhaps that was why she kept herself so hidden in the first place. It was when he began fumbling, stammering out words that weren't careful or thought out, that there was another sign of human functions in the blonde.

Laughter.

It was airy and soft, raising a hand to her mouth soon after because laughing at dear Kylo Ren almost seemed rude. Almost. " What you'd expect me to look like, mmhm. " Luckily for him, Phasma had never grown up wishing a boy would call her pretty or wondering if one ever would. " You got stuck at handsome. " Typical.

Letting him brood himself back down to his normalcy, the ship landed without any further damage from the blockade, eyes roaming the empty shipyard to see that clearly they were without. Again, it made her ask why they hadn't just simply stormed in, though that wasn't important, turning her head sharply when the door opened, moving away from the cockpit carefully. With the dark haired man being the first one in plain view, the woman wasn't at all surprised by the initial interaction of the sweating man and Kylo, tilting her head softly at the 'Please help' expression. Eyes shifting through the back of the ship as the man searched, her hands carefully grasped a black case beneath the pilot's seat, opening it up to peek inside with a thankful sigh that Fedorre hadn't left them completely scrambling. Noting no sign of Chandrila labeling on the case, the woman immediately noticed Kylo speaking again. Oh no.

Clearly, it was not his job to do the talking. The look in her eyes so vividly telling him to shut up, she didn't see the need in depicting what her mind screamed, natural instinct almost demanding that she choke him harder than any Force could. " Technicalities, it doesn't matter, " Pausing as the tall woman managed to slightly maneuver them both off the ship with faint 'shoo'ing hands, the case was pulled out from under her arm and set against her lap, holding onto it carefully as she looked at the stout man. " In exchange for these, we need information from you. " Nails tapping lightly on the box, the woman's eyes shifted back to the area around them, again finding it so very vastly empty. No need to kill him. . Yet. " You have another base of operations near here, we saw it before the blockade scrambled our map. Where is it? "
 
He looked out onto the vast, empty airfield and pondered what she'd said to him. He'd gotten... stuck on handsome? Why did she have to phrase it like that? Did she mean that was what he'd meant to call her and he'd gotten stuck mentally? Or was she saying that he thought she was a dozen different things and he was just handsome? If so, was she disappointed in how... utilitarian he'd sounded? Was that a teasing mmmhm or a resigned mhm?

Now he was going to have to stew about this for hours, and... well, why was he even thinking so much about what this girl thought he thought about her?

Ridiculous. He let a silence come over him. He needed to be the master of his own mind, here of all places. He looked with surprise at Phasma's little black box. He'd started to ask what it was, but then remembered the death glare she'd given him the last time he opened his mouth. True enough, he'd made a hash out of it last time. He missed that mask. Without it, he didn't really feel like Kylo Ren. He felt like...

"Well, I wouldn't call it a base of operations." Kylo wouldn't have either. He took some vague sense of relief that Phasma's flub was just as bad as his. She sounded exactly like an incompetent spy looking to stage a dangerous operation. "But the Mahiall building is about a dozen clicks that way. They mostly handle... experimental weapons, digital security, defense against HoloNet based attacks. Things like that. Typically planetside transport like a speeder costs extra. But depending on what you've got inside there..."

Kylo stood casually. They'd be fine if something came to it, but he had high hopes for Phasma's case.
 
If there had been any insight to him falling into the pit of his own thoughts, truthfully she wasn't sure if she'd stop it. . At least not immediately. Not particularly cynical, but simply watching him, counting the way his mind ticked through the possibilities the way it had gone through each of the questions prior in regards to why they were on this ship. Whether it had been his attempt at proving himself social or because dwelling on why they were going to Chandrila in the first place, he had easily given her more pieces of his personality. Curiously, she wondered if it made him uncomfortable. Or if he had even noticed that portion of it at all. Perhaps it was better for the sake of this mission that they at least spoke to one another as though they had been familiar prior to this. .

Yeah, no. Let's just get through today.

Whether it was a blip between Kylo correcting everyone that still believed they were under Imperial jurisdiction or her own unawareness of the planet they had been sent off to, the woman herself wanted to be back quietly in her chambers, or even better yet, in her suit. They wouldn't even have been having this conversation. He probably would've been shot the second he had been seen running to the ship, nails again ticking softly across the box again, the thoughts of what to do with this man slid through her mind. Each calculated, all revolving around the fact that she was not about to walk that distance in this outfit, there was the prime possibility that she could simply allow him to lead her to his speeder and drop him off in some broom closet, but then came the potential of leaving him alive. May as well use him for the time being, hm, after all. He did appear to be alone out here for the time being.

" Sansanna. "

Answering the question he hadn't entirely asked, her hands guided the case to point the opening toward the bulky man, lifting the opening to expose the ground powder, the pure burnt orange color bright within the case's black lining. The case snapping softly when the man attempted to reach out, the blonde tilted her head faintly, " For your speeder. . Please. " Oddly, the words fell in a sweet nature, despite her quick actions, offering the smallest hint of a smile.
 
Kylo felt his eyebrows rising as Phasma showed off the payload. He'd had a couple of surprises today - for example, he'd been asked to conquer a planet with the Force and a woman armed with a peashooter - but the Order giving a payload like this surpassed all of them. He'd really need to speak with Snoke about the priorities of the Order.

Well. Realistically, he'd make a smug note inside of his head.

"We're talking about bribery, here." The air control officer spread his hands (innocent enough) and then stuck out his tongue at them (a little weird). "If I've given you two the impression that I'm a spicehead..."

A rare smile crept across Kylo's face as he folded his arms together and spoke in a light, agreeable tone. "We're on a blockaded planet, and you specifically mentioned spice during your little inspection. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." The officer paused. "So you do speak in complete sentences after all."

"Like you said, I've had a very hard trip. Listen. I'd like you to exchange the speeder for the contents of the case."

"I... well, I wasn't planning on selling the speeder. I mean, the usual policy is to give a rental -"

"Again, I really need you to listen." A little frustration was beginning to creep into Kylo's voice now as he closed distance with the man. "My name is... Robin Stillwater. My wife and I both have friends and family here on Chandrila and... their safety means more to us than any profit. I know there are people just as desperate to get this as we are to use your speeder, so. This is a very fair arrangement."

Kylo groaned inwardly. In the space of a few minutes, they were a loving couple of spice smugglers who dodged an Imperial blockade to check on their relatives, but also had a deep interest in... what had she said? Bases of operations?

Still, criminals had their soft spots too. Maybe more than the average person. It wasn't a completely incredulous cover story, and by the time anyone doubted it, they'd be lightyears away.

The man nodded wordlessly and slowly pulled the case out of Phasma's hands. Kylo dryly spread his hands behind the man, preemptively accepting congratulations for his negotiating skills. Certainly he'd deliver the speeder without any problems. Even dressed like buffoons, neither of them looked like people to doublecross lightly.

A few minutes later, the hum of the speeder was underneath them as they hummed towards the forest facility.

Kylo was teetering on the edge of frustration. He shouldn't have needed the spice and the sad story to brainwash some government functionary for a few minutes. He needed his skills to be at a peak level, and he felt himself backsliding, if anything.

"That was a closer call than it should have been," he mumbled, to no one in particular. "I'm not... performing to expectations."

He sounded stiff when he said it, as if sounding like a stormstooper drone with a poor firing accuracy would make it easier for Phasma to understand his situation. Another knight might have been useful here, but his companion here... naturally, she had no idea of the kind of turmoil going on inside his head.

He leaned back in the scratchy cowhide seat, chewing the inside of his cheek into a blister as he pondered Snoke's words. He'd been making even simple tasks difficult for himself lately. The question was... why?
 
If one were carefully inspecting the body language of the woman, subconsciously one hand gripped the case a bit tighter, the color leaving the skin around her knuckles slowly. Did he just. . Stick his. . It was going to take a lot to get through this conversation without landing a blow to the bridge of his nose, even more so when the man tried to cover for himself, as though either of them had insinuated such a thing. He had brought it to their attention before she had taken note of the box, though even if he wasn't to use it for himself, using it for his own gains was the next best idea, hm? The budding conversation between the two men had left the woman counting inwardly, releasing her tightened grip for a moment only to snap it back to gripping the case when the man again attempted to backtrack. Was this how people had civil conversations, because frankly there were several faster ways they could have gone about this, but the woman held her tongue, kept herself from gripping him by the collar and almost immediately wishing she hadn't.

The flush hit her cheeks so fast, Phasma was beyond thankful the attention wasn't directed to her for the time being, bright eyes venturing across the airfield. This was being stretched out far more than either of them were expecting, cursing deep within at Fedorre. Here she was, the wife of Goose Stillwater. Through several silent breaths of air she had managed to contain any signs of her cheeks completely discrediting her, just in time for the case to warily be slid from her hands. Eyes staring holes into the back of the officer's head, again and again she reminded herself that she should have just taken him out and dragged him away someplace quiet, avoiding all of this confrontation and conversation. But then again, this mission was already a thorn in both of their sides, and easily she would keep herself from repeating this situation ever again.

Sitting comfortably in the silence that sat between the lovely couple, Phasma had taken to lightly running her tongue over the edges of her teeth when her concentration was broken by the sulking of the man next to her. The tone in his voice proved that he was feeling lesser, raising a dark brow softly, he looked like someone had kicked his favorite droid down an airlock and forced him to watch it float away. " Expectations? " Had to be his own. Or was he supposed to be living up to the hype that surrounded him? Neither of them had handled that situation gracefully, and it only showed that they simply needed. . Well, the ability to deal with others, and that thought alone made her cringe. " It's over now. If you know you can do better, then do it. " Of course Phasma knew nothing about the struggle he was dealing with in his head, her own conditioned to simply. . Well, get better or ultimately fail. And clearly, she wasn't one to simply fail. It was then the speeder began to veer slightly to the left, distancing itself from their straightened path only slightly as they grew near the facility. Head turning away from him, her eyes began shifting as she took in the visual of the building, counting the few on patrol as the speeder veered around it in a circle in the distance. Not enough to be too worried, but the woman couldn't assume there weren't several more inside.

" Done sulking? " Her tone wasn't condescending despite her words, landing the speeder near the back of the building after the first trip around, eyes again moving back to Goo- Robin Stillwater.

 
"Expectations."

And he couldn't exactly put a target on that sentence. Snoke's expectations, of course. Mostly his own. Perhaps even Luke Skywalker's expectations, in some gnarled and twisted sense.

The whole ordeal just wasn't a good sign. Kylo slowly traced the inside of his palm down his lips, replaying their miserable failures in his own head. He supposed they'd technically done what they'd set out to do, but he was a master of the dark side. A leader even at his young age. At a time when he was perfecting the probe technique, a little mind trick should have been child's play.

"The... thing I need to do with the Governor. Is a much more difficult version of the... thing I just failed to do with the pea-brained air traffic controller." He opened his mouth and weighed Phasma's expression, which was somewhere on the edge between "businesslike" and "might as well have been talking to a dog" ... then again, dogs didn't have such judging expressions.

And they wouldn't snitch on you to Snoke, either.

Of course, this didn't invalidate her advice.

He took a second and rolled her statement around in her head, parsing it in different ways. Just like he had for her "stuck on handsome" bit. And then he finally sighed and gave up on it. It was silly, wasn't it? He was so used to getting little nuggets of wisdom from his mentors that he was digging studiously through a very different sort of nugget...

Getting it under his fingernails and everything.

He took a heavy breath and kicked the speeder door. Of course, he was loosely aware of how stupid he looked doing things like that, but he couldn't help himself, and it wasn't like there was anyone around to tell him no. And doing that helped, a little. By then they were closing in. He wasn't exactly sure what he plan was, but he'd already decided to get the gist of her plan and run with it.

They were going around the back, anyway. Signaled something in terms of approach.

"I am done sulking, actually." He didn't in any sense mean it. He had enough sulking to last the entire day. But he licked his lips and leaned over the door like he was hungry for a fight and waited for the tension of battle to overcome him.

He was a Jedi.

He was more than a Jedi. He hadn't exactly mastered... brain picking or whatever, but even without a lightsaber, he was in his element here.
 
What a vivid answer that was, not that she felt like arguing through it to figure out what was getting him into his emotions. While Kylo sulked deeper into the seat, Phasma's mentality was a bit different, perhaps because of how conditioning for stormtroopers had grown over the years since the Battle of Endor. Less emotional connection meant less fuck ups, after all. She wasn't going to baby him, knowing that there were plenty of First Order militants who stepped on eggshells when around the knight, but frankly, she couldn't take him too seriously in that outfit. None the less, Phasma wouldn't let herself be afraid of something she hadn't witnessed herself, let herself become fearful when her job was to more so. . Keep him from dying until they got to the Governor.

Stepping out of the speeder only to hear the hard thud from the other side, the woman rolled her eyes faintly as she moved toward the front of the courier to watch him pace the remnants of another soft tantrum. " If you break it and we have to walk back in this dress, I will be extremely upset. " Leaning down now, the blonde began lifting the hem of her skirt again, both hands gripping it now as she bunched the fabric, successfully tying it up toward the middle of her thighs. She could not at all deal with this dress being the reason she got pinned down. She'd be damned. " You did a better job at lying to him than you did to me. " If that made him feel any better, standing now as she turned to him again with a raised brow, " There are five of them outside, and I don't intend on having any more conversations that include me being married. " However with their unfortunate luck throughout this trip, a part of her wouldn't be surprised if Fedorre had set this up as some sick honeymoon guise.

And though she didn't necessarily expect him to do much, what with his ego crushed, the blonde turned and let her boots guide her forward, steps soft against the ground. One less conversation, one less awkward moment. Catching the end of a conversation of two human men at the back of the building, she watched them separate in opposite directions before moving carefully behind one, hands reaching out to grip his head, the soft snap muffled beneath the attempt to yell. Though it had been just barely, the other man had heard, Phasma releasing the man before her just to let her foot raise and land the back of her heel to the side of his head. The grips of her boot shoved against his neck, the stammering man now lay on the ground, staring up at the woman as she asked, " How many of you are there? " Whether he confirmed her headcount or not wasn't necessarily a hit or miss situation, foot pushing with a gentle ease as he again began stammering, " Eight. "

 
If it helps, nobody will remember Robin Stillwater a day from now.

Now, looking down at two men, he realized he'd need to reassess that statement, and expand his definition of nobody. If Commander Phasma performed like that regularly, she'd certainly see tomorrow no matter what happened on this godforsaken rock.

For a glorified stormstooper, he was beginning to see why people put up with her weird unblinking expressions and constant understatement. Eight. Eight people that didn't know they were coming, weren't exactly elite tier military, weren't even force sensitive. He wasn't sure about breaking the Governor yet, but he was sure he'd get into the capital.

He leaned over the man Phasma had destroyed and reached for his mind through the Force, less insistently this time. Every mind had its own textures and contours, secrets that were hidden on the surface or buried amongst deeper shames. He needed to clear himself out. Be a mirror, not a stonedozer.

"Where's the server room?"

The man was grimacing, pouring sweat out of nowhere as Kylo sifted into his mind. The man seemed to melt into the floor, pinned, and desperate. He saw no reason to be gentle with him. None.

The man let out a soft whimper. "I don't know!"

He wasn't deep enough to take the truth for himself, but he did have the lay of the land. "You're lying to me, aren't you? I can always tell."

He reached for the downed man's throat, and Kylo felt the Force flickering through him this time, smooth and responsive and... almost joyful. He pulled the man into the air, strangling him and stretching his limbs in all directions. "The server room. It's your last chance."

He sneered and let the man's throat open just enough to croak out an answer. Of course, just applying pain to someone wasn't a perfect interrogation method, and yet... "It's in B2-17. The big room at the end of the hall. The basement."

"Thank you." Kylo focused his rage on the guard, crushing the veins in his throat and destroying his heart with an invisible, pitiless hand. The man fell to the ground with a soft thud and Kylo stepped over the body. Wouldn't make any sense to do that to someone and let him live.

"I already knew where the server room was," he grumbled. Of course, that wasn't the problem.

They'd actually arrived with less frenzy than anticipated - there was an uneventful journey down to the MagLift, and only one guard on the level, who they'd evaded seamlessly. It was possible that they'd have to deal with him on the way out, but...

Kylo hovered over the server computer, scanning their lovely faces and information into the database of aides and functionaries that had security clearance for the inner areas of the capital. "I'm going to assume you don't want to be Mrs. Robin Stillwater on your biometric ID."
 
For a moment the woman considered being thoughtful and mentioning the potential to practice on the man who was down and bleeding out the side of his head. But apparently his intentions were just that, arms folding over her chest now as she watched him lean over the already stunned man, perking up a brow softly as she watched the man's stance begin to change. The complete change was. . Different to watch, to say the least, having never witnessed the illusive Jedi Force herself, Phasma let her eyes drift from the cringing man to Kylo. His face had appeared to grow with something of a gloom, the terrified man's voice catching her ears, it wasn't unfamiliar to hear the sound of a beggar, but there was still something different in it. Never had Phasma let anything regarding the force cross her mind for more than a few fleeting seconds, because there were too many stories that were almost unbelievable. A woman of her vision, watching something creep across Kylo's face, the faint flicker of curiosity behind her eyes when the body rose into the air.

Ticking the confirmed rumors off in her head, he almost seemed pleased with himself, unlike the sulking adult he had been only a few minutes prior. The change could be seen as something that made most uncomfortable, this giving more than enough of an explanation as to why his tantrums were tolerated and dealt with time after time. Eyes shifting their focus again to the man who stretched so still in the air, only to watch his body seize and fall to the ground like a pile of meat, a soft " Hm. " escaping. Well that was. . Odd. Nodding only faintly to herself as she stepped over the pitiful husk, easily her mind was starting to process what had just happened. Not to say she hadn't necessarily been a nonbeliever of the Force, but frankly, she hadn't care enough to delve into caring about it. All the Jedi were said to be dead, aside from this one in particular and a certain runaway Skywalker, so believing in it just seemed like a ridiculous waste of time. Well. . You can't say it wasn't sexy.

Almost immediately scolding herself with a sharp bite to her bottom lip to prevent any slip ups that left her embarrassed any more today, Phasma was again relieved with her favorite thing; Silence. Standing near the server room door, being ambushed in a basement was not anything she wanted to be the cause of this to end before they finished their mission, turning now when he asked if she wanted to remain as misses Stillwater. " If it keeps you from getting fluttery on our story, then it's fine. Otherwise, no. " She would deal with it, tight lipped and swearing in her head, but she would deal with it. Now, however, came a question she had given plenty of time to be patient about in regaining her stoic line of thinking, " Is that the better version of what you're supposed to do with the Governor? "


 
"You... you could say that," he grunted through his teeth. Mrs. Robin Stillwater it was - of course, now they were recent University graduates working as aides for... one set of Senators or the other. He would have changed the name if she'd actually offered a suggestion, but he wasn't inclined to bend over backwards to learn all her... little preferences. He hammered the keys, stretching out his own senses through the room and into the hall.

"Of course, we need to keep him alive. It's more than possible. The force can sense emotions, manipulate feelings, read minds, some of the old masters even had the power to reshape minds to their own will." Kylo waited on the computer to log his first set of changes. He was well aware of how terrifying that sounded to someone uninitiated, but he had long since made his peace with the forces he was wrestling with. "The Emperor and... Lord Vader... held an entire galaxy under their sway. Trillions of lives balanced by their rage and passion and sheer willpower. I clearly haven't reached that level of mastery but..."

As evidenced by the fact that Phasma was here, acting as his chaperone. Doubtless she thought the Empire was held together by... shipyards and pamphlets and men with laser rifles. How could people not know any better? Perhaps it was better this way? If everyone in the galaxy was prepared for him, his work would be more difficult.

"Give it time. One day you might be happy that you have me as... well, that we worked together." He finished the second entry and gave her a little lopsided grin. "That one wasn't perfect. He still shut me out. Or to be more accurate, I didn't let myself all the way in. Next time the charm, hopefully." The computer chimed gently and Kylo loved towards the door, almost joyful at their good fortune. A couple of dead bodies no one would miss for a while, free passes to the Capitol, and not a single scratch on either of them.

The power was still crackling inside of him from his last display, and he felt looser despite his encroaching deadline. He clapped Phasma on the shoulder and maneuvered around her. "We're about to singlehandedly conquer a planet. You'll be able to brag about this for the rest of your career."
 
It hadn't quite dawned on her until he said it, until he listed of the many wonderful things his enlightenment did, eyes growing wide as she turned her vision back down the hallway. Read minds. Replayed over and over again, one of her hands lightly settling against the door frame as she inhaled sharply to regain her thoughts. Alright Phasma, you'd thought it one time, one fleeting time and it had only happened once. Just once, and never ever again. Another soft nod to assure herself before she returned back into his devoted semi-speech in regards to previous men who had caused destruction within the galaxy. Finally, something worth the distraction. Phasma had never found herself among several others within the First Order, searching for men to fall in line behind, to praise the way others had done to Lord Vader or Emperor Palpatine. Her duty was to the First Order, the cause it stood for. Not men with fondness for the Force.

As? Clicking her tongue softly behind her teeth out of her ill formed habit, the woman knew he had left husband deep in the depths where it should be, turning back to him in time to catch the grin he gave her. Happy that they'd worked together because the cards were set well for him? Was he. . Was he bragging? Getting an ego? And there it went, any moments of still being a young twenty something with emotions and attraction, right out the window. Men. Thankful when he was done with such a chore, her head had turned back to the mess left in the hallway, only for her eyes to snap immediately to her bare shoulder. " Thank you for selling my career so short. " And although it would be nice to have in her arsenal, the conquering of a planet, the way he made it sound as though it were that much greater to have known him before he followed in the footsteps of so many other Sith, who were all murdered if she might add, Phasma welcomed the light once they were back outside.

" Well husband, I suggest we get as far away from this as possible, hm? "

The ride back to the airfield was rapid, the blonde turning her head to the building the officer had pulled the speeder from, pulling open the door of their ship and slipping into the pilot's seat yet again. Thankful they were off the ground without any difficulty, Phasma now spoke as they were no longer on the airfield. " Red clay dirt looks a lot like Sansanna, doesn't it? " Though only the first of the small jars contained the spice, the remaining two proving to simply be unimportant. With what would be happening by the end of the day, it was almost as though they had handed him something to keep him relaxed. Oh, but of course that was only if they were true to assume what he did in his free time.

Another airfield proved that while one side of Chandrila was without, this one was the opposite, sighing softly, " Let's get through this a bit better than the first time, hmm? " What Phasma? Crippling embarrassment wasn't fun for you anymore?
 
"Oh excuse me," he said, hitting a button on the MagLift and leaning against the far door. "This is important work for me. Maybe it pales in comparison to what you're planning to do next week."

She had an ambiguous way of talking, clipped little indirect sentences, with stresses in just the right places to have him thinking about what she'd said. Either that, or he'd done all the thinking on his own volition, and that was a stranger thing to consider, wasn't it?

But he knew what she was getting at, that he'd be going on to all the exciting things she imagined him doing and she'd be practicing her scowling looking around with her naturally unfortunate face, doing tedious grunt missions from here out to the Rim.

Hm. Strange that a few moments of optimism after his breakthrough would leave her so chilly. Chilly even by her high standards.

"I couldn't agree with you more." Time was on their side here, but there was no need to dawdle. One of the many incredible problems with Republic aligned worlds was their insistence on bureaucracy for everything. Even something as gruesome as a couple of murders at a secure facility would need to gradually be pushed up the ranks - it would be days before anyone got around to actually assessing the damage done, especially considering the amount of secure data being held at that facility.

It wasn't propaganda to say that the ideals of democracy and community, when applied to a scale of a galaxy or even a planet, created consistently horrid results.

"Are you going to tease me about the husband thing for the rest of my life? I had to think of that on the spot. And we don't exactly look like siblings." Against his better senses, his lips twitched into a slight, sardonic smile.

"It was funny, though."

They were in the air before Phasma spoke again, this time talking about the spice they'd sold off to the traffic controller.

"Well, this time we have a cover story in place instead of... increasingly desperate improvisation." He slid forward and pressed a button on the comm, casually reading off the ship's name and manifest.

"Hang tight, Mr. Stillwater, we recently moved to an elevated state of security, it might take a few minutes to clear you."

Kylo's eyes boggled as he sent Phasma a worried look.

"Okay. No problem. Thanks. Thanks... so much for your... thoroughness. Your thoughtfulness." He slapped a button on the comm and ran a hand through his hair.

"There's no way we're getting captured by people who dress like this, right?" His nose let out a hot jet of air through his palm. "Should we be uh... developing a contingency on the remote chance that we're found out?" He'd tried to think of a phrase that sounded Phasma-like, as if that would spur her towards action.

"I guess we would just... give up, keep quiet, wait for an opening..."

But he didn't know.

There was the possibility of turning around in mid-air and hurrying back to the Gauntlet. But would they be followed? By what, and how much of it?

He didn't much like the ability of being in a ship this rickety, even if safety was relatively closer in the air.
 
For the rest of his life?
" Til death. "

Perhaps what she hadn't thought about initially was the fact that while he was on the track to his slightly well paved uprising, Phasma would know him at his lesser end. She would have seen his frustrations, his fluttering, and his moments of disappointment within himself. Phasma had witnessed little ticks and nervousness creep over his face like a storm, while most had only seen the mask that he held himself so confidently behind. She was no one to judge, but while most had seen their end come at the hands of a man behind a mask, she would know him at what could quite well be his worst. His open faced, worst. And although both were in an uncomfortable bind, with small glimpses of getting used to this situation, later in life it might make things a bit clearer. For now, she took it for what it was. Kylo Ren as himself, without the mask.

Eyes venturing down over the green of the forest as they passed, the woman only turning away when he spoke through the comm, announcing their arrival the way anyone naturally would. Meeting the concerned gaze the man gave her with a soft blink, her legs crossed again, only then realizing she hadn't readjusted her skirt back to the appropriate length, reminding herself to do so before they landed. They were supposed to be held to some sort of esteem, after all. The stammering in his words brought her focus back up however, her lips curling into a grin when she could hear the very point his nerves shoved themselves into his throat. There was no way they were getting caught by people who dressed like this, indeed, one hand reaching out and carefully shifting a few buttons across the console, for his sake, it was almost pleasant that he was more than just another stormtrooper. He'd have been slapped back into the present, and in his senses, several awkward stances ago. " I am only here to make sure you get through this alive, but. . "

And here was where her eloquent way of wording came again, " I have plenty more opportunities to walk out on Fedorre in the middle of a conversation. " While Phasma knew she damn sure didn't want to hear any snide remarks from the man, just that little bit of information alone would give the Admiral fuel to mention it in every little conversation he could. Phasma's job here was to get him to and from this mission safely, and alive. Now, if he felt like turning and running away so soon, the woman would oblige because technically, he was the one in charge in this situation. But the longer it took him to decide, the closer Phasma got to the next airfield, and turning away the closer they got would look oddly suspicious. Turning away from him now, the woman shifted lightly in her seat, eyes catching sight of the open grey of the airfield, " I am Asa Stillwater, your wife. We're newlyweds who just finished University, and we are just so happy to be aids for Senator Dipka. " That was their story. Simple. Now they just had to stick to it.
 
She hadn't directly addressed the possibility of them getting caught, and that was an answer in its own way.

Stick to the plan, keep as level a head as possible, and execute.

Not at all his typical way of doing things, but it was the sort of thing he needed to work on.

He took a breath and returned to the matter at hand. "You know what? When we're actually in the party, we should say we're from off-world. Think of how many people there are going to be bright eyed graduates from the So-and-So Academy. Someone's going to come up to us and start asking whether you played Gravball, and then I'm going to start rambling about..." Kylo snapped his fingers. "Etymology. That's the word I was thinking of at the airfield."

Fine. It wasn't exactly a perfect plan, and if they were at all fortunate, they'd be in and out before such a thing could even be tested. But they were both very poor choices for spies... the sort of people that others looked at (when they weren't gawking outright) and remembered. Before he could present his own counter-argument, the comm crackled to life, and Kylo slide over towards it, trying to put a casual tone in his voice, topping out at irritation over the delay.

"Okay... we're going to need you two to remain stationary for a few minutes while we figure out the situation on the ground. We apologize, it's just... really hectic down here for obvious reasons."

"Are we... are we in trouble or anything?"

"Uh... no!" The air traffic controller sounded terrified. Maybe that was just circumstance, but maybe, maybe it was something deeper. Kylo shot a sideways glance to Phasma and pressed his lips together in a narrow, nervous line. That was exactly the kind of thing they'd say if they were in a full meltdown about how to capture a powerful force user and his (relatively) deadly assistant. "Just stay where you are. Sorry for the inconveni- "

The comm buzzed out just as abruptly. Kylo groaned. This was stomach-churning stuff, but really... they were in a floating tin-can, so the next move wasn't theirs to make. Even if he wanted to stress himself out over hypothetical, his companion would just...refuse to do it, so there was no point doing anything but... sulking over it.

He leaned back, catching a flash of the Commander's long, muscular leg spilling out of her dress. She'd pulled the thing up for the sake of convenience, and now he was seeing... well, progressively more of her than he'd imagined he would. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, slowly letting himself take longer looks as he fiddled with the dashboard - he was sure that she'd start making faces at him if she noticed, and she was about nothing if not attention to small details, and yet...

He couldn't quite help himself, with an image like that. You didn't see women that curved in her particular ways everyday. Or ever even.

"The hole in our plan," he said, forcing himself to look upwards, "is Dipka himself. We need to either find out where he is when we arrive or say we're there in his place or... I could try to practice with him."

Practice, that was his new euphemism for the mental probe. Wasn't good enough, though. He'd practiced with plenty of people, and now he felt like a student getting increasingly desperate as a deadline approached. He'd practiced with so many... wait.

A few things flashed through his mind. Things the targets had in common.

"Oh no. Uh... listen. You aren't going to love this suggestion, but keep an open mind. I've been working on this for a few months. Honestly, I'm still uncomfortable with it. I think Snoke is trying to place me in an urgent situation where I have to do it properly, but... maybe that's the wrong direction. Do you think you and I... I mean, while we're up here, I could try it out with you."

Try it out with you. So friendly. Like a party trick that needs an assistant, and not the single most invasive thing one person could do to another.

Honestly, getting her to strip naked and bend over might have been less of an ask, depending on your perspective.

"I wouldn't hurt you at all. And it would be even easier because you'd be... calm. Willing. Receptive. I haven't had a..." Kylo coughed midsentence and rubbed his face. Okay, there's a sentence that was going in a dozen bad directions at once. "But I'd be very... limited. You think of a color and I would just... peel it out."

He winced. PEEL IT OUT?

This was Kylo Ren. Being reassuring.

Then again, maybe he was being weirder about it than she would be. Anything for the Order, right?

... right?
 
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