{ ♚ } Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Hux layered his concealer with expert dexterity, smoothing it over every perceived blemish — even over the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose. Though perhaps others would think it strange, it had been his father who’d taught him to apply makeup. A leader, as he’d been told time and time again, must appear infallible, particularly following times of crisis. 

                He picked another shade of tan and began working to disguise his black eye and split lip. 

                For all their talk of justice and moral superiority, more than a few members of the so-called “Resistance” didn’t seem to have any problem in kidnapping and torturing him when given the opportunity to do so. It was retaliation, surely, for the destruction of the Hosnian System — it wasn’t as though Hux couldn’t understand how they felt. After all, it was a devastating loss for the Resistance. Perhaps even a personal one. Even so, there was something innately irritating about a group that walked the high ground only so long as it proved convenient...

                Armed with his silver comb, Hux pushed exactly three strands of hair from the left of the head to the right, before spraying it all down into place. ...Perfect. Before daring to step outside, he threw his greatcoat over his padded shoulders, all in some ridiculous attempt to appear larger than he actually was. He would surely need the sense of confidence it provided for his confrontation with Phasma. Though he outranked her, he’d never once felt the need to exert that authority. They worked well together, after all; they’d even spoken casually, at times. 

                It was a mistake. After all... Hux hadn’t anticipated the possibility that she could have grown attached. That she could defy protocol and waste valuable resources all for the rescue of one man. ...What a waste.

     Competition can breed greatness, but it can also lead to other issues. . .like developing rivalries. The two have been setting records only to have the other break them, and it’s a been a perpetual cycle since the academy year has started. It’s been beneficial to have someone to keep him on his toes, to keep him striving for better scores, but he knows hardly anything about the other trainee.       He’s trailing behind her now, shouldering his bag and suffering a horrific case of curiosity. Before he can really consider what he’s doing, Poe calls out to her.