Hux shrugged. “It doesn’t much
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Hux shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter,” he said. “The thing about the First Order is that we have a lot of resources. I rather thought that was the whole sticking point, with the Republic and all. That they obeyed the non-proliferation treaties and we clearly didn’t.”
“A fact about which I was right all along,” Dameron said, displaying his first flash of annoyance at any of this, “but it doesn’t matter.”
“Nothing matters,” Hux said. “I have a tracker. The First Order will come for me. If I am lynched by a mob in the meantime, then I would probably be temporarily unhappy, but it’s not like it truly matters either way. I’ve already built them the Starkiller, they have the plans and everything I know still. They have other engineers. They can recreate my work. They have other generals. They’ll retrieve me if they can, but if I’m dead, they’ll make an example of everyone involved and move on. It doesn’t matter.”
“Wouldn’t you mind dying, though?” Dameron asked.
“Yeah,” Hux said, “I don’t want to die either, but I’m not about to let the likes of them see me cry over it.”
A smile so faint it was more like a smile’s ghost passed over Dameron’s face, at that. “Don’t you have a dutiful wife and like five little ginger babies rolling around? Won’t they miss you?”
“If I did this would be the best possible outcome for them,” Hux said, “but no. I have one ginger baby and she’s a cat, so if I never came back she might briefly go off her food but she’s kind of used to me not being around so I doubt it.”
“What’s a cat?” Dameron asked, frowning.
“I’m astonished that I know this,” Hux said, “and I’m only saying any of this because of the effects of the stim, but in Iberican they’re called gatos.”
“Oh,” Dameron said, surprised. “Hey, we had one of those when I was a kid, called it a tooka in Basic.” He frowned. “I thought the First Order didn’t learn foreign languages.”
“The First Order does not teach foreign languages,” Hux said. “But sometimes there aren’t any transmissions for a long time and you take the translator chip out of your holodramas and try to teach yourself the language as a tool to stave off boredom, instead of watching them in translation for the fifteenth time.”
Dameron managed a laugh, though it was weak. “Was this before or after I spent so long hitting on you in that bar?”
“Before,” Hux admitted.
“So you knew what I was saying,” he said, amused.
“I didn’t exactly have to speak the language to pick up on it,” Hux said. “Nor to figure out that your friend didn’t actually speak the language fluently either. Her accent was terrible, even I could tell that.”
“We get bored too,” Dameron said. “Had to pass the time somehow. And we couldn’t just pick fights with you because you were First Order, we’d get disciplined. So we had to make you pick fights with us instead. And if it involved pretending not to speak Basic, well– nobody would believe it if you complained.”
“If you’d just hit on me in Basic I would probably have gone for it,” Hux said.
Dameron snorted. “Please,” he said, “I’m absolutely not your type. Do you even like dick?”
“I exclusively do,” Hux said. “And come now, don’t be coy. You know what you look like.”
“Don’t lie,” Dameron said, “you’d never sully yourself.”
“Oh,” Hux said sincerely, “you don’t know what I’d do. At certain points in my life, you are precisely what I would have been looking for.”
(from this) (definitely doesn’t fit into the novel)
Hux shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter,” he said. “The thing about the First Order is that we have a lot of resources. I rather thought that was the whole sticking point, with the Republic and all. That they obeyed the non-proliferation treaties and we clearly didn’t.”
“A fact about which I was right all along,” Dameron said, displaying his first flash of annoyance at any of this, “but it doesn’t matter.”
“Nothing matters,” Hux said. “I have a tracker. The First Order will come for me. If I am lynched by a mob in the meantime, then I would probably be temporarily unhappy, but it’s not like it truly matters either way. I’ve already built them the Starkiller, they have the plans and everything I know still. They have other engineers. They can recreate my work. They have other generals. They’ll retrieve me if they can, but if I’m dead, they’ll make an example of everyone involved and move on. It doesn’t matter.”
“Wouldn’t you mind dying, though?” Dameron asked.
“Yeah,” Hux said, “I don’t want to die either, but I’m not about to let the likes of them see me cry over it.”
A smile so faint it was more like a smile’s ghost passed over Dameron’s face, at that. “Don’t you have a dutiful wife and like five little ginger babies rolling around? Won’t they miss you?”
“If I did this would be the best possible outcome for them,” Hux said, “but no. I have one ginger baby and she’s a cat, so if I never came back she might briefly go off her food but she’s kind of used to me not being around so I doubt it.”
“What’s a cat?” Dameron asked, frowning.
“I’m astonished that I know this,” Hux said, “and I’m only saying any of this because of the effects of the stim, but in Iberican they’re called gatos.”
“Oh,” Dameron said, surprised. “Hey, we had one of those when I was a kid, called it a tooka in Basic.” He frowned. “I thought the First Order didn’t learn foreign languages.”
“The First Order does not teach foreign languages,” Hux said. “But sometimes there aren’t any transmissions for a long time and you take the translator chip out of your holodramas and try to teach yourself the language as a tool to stave off boredom, instead of watching them in translation for the fifteenth time.”
Dameron managed a laugh, though it was weak. “Was this before or after I spent so long hitting on you in that bar?”
“Before,” Hux admitted.
“So you knew what I was saying,” he said, amused.
“I didn’t exactly have to speak the language to pick up on it,” Hux said. “Nor to figure out that your friend didn’t actually speak the language fluently either. Her accent was terrible, even I could tell that.”
“We get bored too,” Dameron said. “Had to pass the time somehow. And we couldn’t just pick fights with you because you were First Order, we’d get disciplined. So we had to make you pick fights with us instead. And if it involved pretending not to speak Basic, well– nobody would believe it if you complained.”
“If you’d just hit on me in Basic I would probably have gone for it,” Hux said.
Dameron snorted. “Please,” he said, “I’m absolutely not your type. Do you even like dick?”
“I exclusively do,” Hux said. “And come now, don’t be coy. You know what you look like.”
“Don’t lie,” Dameron said, “you’d never sully yourself.”
“Oh,” Hux said sincerely, “you don’t know what I’d do. At certain points in my life, you are precisely what I would have been looking for.”
(from this) (definitely doesn’t fit into the novel)
