[ That's too deep a question after six gin and tonics and however many cocktails. He squints at his comm, cheek on the sleeve of an arm on the bar upon which Hux is slumped. What is he, if he's not a general ... ? ]
[ A surprising response. He'd expected 'a soldier,' perhaps. Texting, without the Force to fall back on for added insight, can be such a frustrating way to communicate. ]
[ Temple on the white sleeve of his jacket, he types one handed while staring somewhat blankly at his phone. The truth has a sobering effect on his typing, peering intensely as he is. ]
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