Can't we play pretend?

First real job

This. This is the worst that can happen.

Your eyes glaze over as the bright haired oaf babbles on before you. His words go in and out, something about your lack of qualifications here and your ever apparent uselessness there. The only constant throughout was your keeper's hand firmly keeping you rooted to your seat by your shoulder. A firm squeeze every now and again so as to not allow you a moment's reprieve from his suffocation. Either that or he feels the need to assure his dominance in the presence of such a... powerful colleague. You didn't care what it was, you were hungry, tired and above all else bothered. It had only been a night, a restless one at that, since you signed your life away to the first order in hopes of a bite at freedom. When you agreed to the Supreme Leader's proposition you thought it more of a sith lord apprentice deal- Not cart girl to perhaps the most anal man in the galaxy.

"Excuse me!"

The snap of his pale fingers dangerously close to your face brought you back to the hell that had become your present reality. You sighed and met his gaze, your eyes hardening against his plaster face.

"Ren, is your prisoner typically this disrespectful?"

The man they called Hux never broke his gaze from yours as he spoke to the Supreme Leader. Your abductor simply grunted and squeezed your shoulder. You looked up at him, only to find he was already looking down at you, his expression unreadable. You quickly glanced away, choosing the passing stars outside the window. After a few more minutes of meaningless babble, a quick pat and another grunt let you know you were now alone with the ginger you now had to call boss.

"What was your name again?"

Your name lamely fell out of your mouth. You kicked yourself internally for how meek you had become after such a short time in captivity.

"No... not that name," he shifted in his seat, a sick grin cracking its way through his stoney features, "What is the name he calls you? I was informed the moniker comes from a character you had portrayed. I'm curious to see which one."

"How do you-"

"It's my job," he cut you off, leaning closer, "So?"

Sensing the game he was trying to play, your whole body tightened. You shook your head, refusing to speak anymore. Was this what was to become of your escape plan? Dodging the advances of bloodthirsty war lords? His fingers tapped idly on the table, his gaze unwavering.

"Am I to figure it out on my own?" he asked as he pulled a tablet from his drawer, "Oh well, I do love a good guessing game."

Before you could process what he meant, the general began to list previous roles of yours. Glancing up at you between each one. You didn't suspect Dove would be listed yet, considering the run hadn't ended before your abduction. As he reached the end of the list, you smirked.

"Having fun yet, general?"

He scoffed, his cheeks lighting up as he dropped the tablet.

"Shall I call you by the name you were given at booking? Prisoner 78204?"

You stiffened, the thought of being reduced to a number worse than living the rest of your days as Dove. Sensing your discomfort, he chuckled darkly.

"P-78204, it is then."

You were starting to understand why people kill each other.

You glanced at the door, wishing for someone, anyone, to waltz in and demand the general's attention. Turning back to face the general and his mindless babble, you spaced out again. While your muscles, skin and teeth sat propped up in this uncomfortable chair, your bones were elsewhere. Dressed in smoother silk, softer hair, and puppeted by a much more melodic and sensible voice- your essence was at the Royal House of Naboo in rehearsals. Moving expertly around their beautiful space, your words entangled with the other players- your bodies entangled in a story. Content eased the soreness of your capture, replacing the masked murderer with a gentle body to dance with.