#thread | 007

he was getting rather used to it, being summoned that is. once he’d spent over a week in the city, it had become more natural for people to want to know him, for people to seek him out through their own selfish channels. not that he complained. he had sought after it, after all. had needed this to occur. one rung of the ladder at a time and soon enough he’d reach the very top. naturally, he didn’t meet with just anyone. it had to work both ways, had to hold some meaning to him, a man so rigid in his beliefs that he’d not be persuaded otherwise. he wasn’t there to haggle, to wager or assume. he was a man of facts as cold as the expression which donned his face, the flame shade of his hair the representative mark of the fires which burnt within.

with a few taps upon the door, he was allowed entrance into the pub; a rather plain looking place half dusty with its abandonment. but it wasn’t empty. a dull record player overhead and nobody paid the new visitor any mind, leaving hux to wander alone to the back of the room to meet with the attendant at the bar. “ ‘e’s expectin’ yous. “ how ghastly. was the man who’d summoned him really so out of touch with people who could afford basic manners and proper speech? still, he slipped in, collar brushing his cheeks as his large coat concealed him like a shield enveloping his pallid frame. for he was a pale looking thing --- skinny, but not impossibly frail. that was the mistake, the worst assumption. that he was weak. thin fingers were hidden within leather gloves which creaked as he flexes his fist absentmindedly. he wasn’t nervous. no. just... wary.