Hux drifts. He doesn't know how long he drifts of course. The sweet oblivion that this sort of sleep provides is something has rarely experiences. Sleep is for the weak, and Hux is never weak. He had to prove his father wrong--he had to prove them all wrong, he had to rise above, to best them all, to find his destiny. He has to protect himself, lock himself away; it's a necessary evil, it must be done, emotions are weakness, even those warm ones, they are terrible and dangerous and so often he finds them surrounding him, drowning him, begging for him to slip up, to let himself out, to risk--but risk is only good when the future is certain and that figure swathed in black is nothing but a certain thing, but he is so warm and he craves warmth he craves--

--Hux comes to with a gasp and a grunt of pain. The bacta patches are doing their work, but everything hurts. The droids never did understand how to give people with his genetics medication right.

Everything seems like a haze; he can see but his eyes are unfocused. He can't even--the ship--

"I need to--I need to check on things."

Hux moves to get out of the bed, but barely moves a hand. It's only then that he can feel the familiar presence near him--two familiar presences, actually.

Turning his head slightly (why did it take so much effort, this is horrible), he frowns, letting out a small sound (weakness, he's always so weak) when Hux sees Ren holding Millicent.

"--Kylo?" Not Ren. But the first part of his name, spoken in a more fragile tone than he wanted.