May the Force be Ever in Your Favor

}« Five »{

     Whatever she’d been expecting the elusive “‘87” to appear as, or dress, Rey threw all previous thoughts out the window as she laid eyes on the ridiculously simple sight before her.

    He was only slightly taller than her, so his posture wasn’t directly imposing or threatening. Golden eyeliner emphasized his long lashes, paired with golden eyeshadow that contrasted beautifully against his dark skin. His eyebrows were perfectly plucked, his hair immaculately trimmed, and he appeared as though skincare products were a large part of his daily routine.

    “FN-2187.” He grinned, sticking out a soft hand in greetings. Rey took it, surprised at how perfectly shaped his cuticles were. Everyone in Coruscant seemed to have manicured nails but his were more of a natural look, completely polished and gleaming like expensive jewelry.

“Rey.” She said, grinning back. She couldn’t help it- his smile was infectious.

“Well, Rey, I hope the stylists weren’t too rough on you.”

“Not terribly bad, actually. I had expected a lot worse.”

“Wonderful. Even Nash?”

Rey cringed. She’d forgotten about that sack of bantha dung.

    “I take it he was as awful as always, yes? Sorry about that. We’ve only got five solstices before we’re finally able to kick him off the team and then good riddance, back to scraping out the garbage chutes for him.” FN-2187 chuckled. “Sanitation’s definitely a downgrade from this job, I’d know. But Nash prefers anything to social work."

    With this, he circled Rey’s body, taking everything in and making mental notes. It was uncomfortable to say the least, and although it wasn’t in a perverted way, she felt the uncontrollable urge to cover herself back up with the fitted outfit she’d dressed in prior. Her flimsy medical-like gown did no good, she felt extremely exposed.

    After what felt like an agonizingly long while, he’d pulled away and written notes into a small book. He then set about with a tape, taking measurements and writing those down as well.

    “Try these on.” He said, bringing a black, slim-fit and two piece jumpsuit from a hangar on the wall along with a pair of high heeled combat boots. Rey took them, marveling in their badassery, before sliding off the medical gown and into the smooth and cooling fabric.

    “Fantastic. We just need to style this hair of yours, fleck your eyeliner, contour…” He went about muttering to himself, occasionally tracing Rey’s face to express where these supposed facial products would be applied. “I’ll be right back. It may be a few minutes, I’ll have to snatch all this from Nash. And, you already know how unpleasant that exchange will be.” He grinned at her before leaving, turning back at the door frame to smile before whipping out and making his way towards the makeup supplies.

Rey stood standing there temporarily, not quite knowing what to do. Should she sit down on the table in the middle? Explore the room? Attempt a third Force connection with Skywalker to see if he'd found Leia? Whatever she did, she didn't think anything could make her feel any less out of place.

But then, right then, of course, a familiar face made his way into the room.

⊱⋇⊰⊱⊛⊰⊱⋇⊰

“Kylo Ren?" Rey questioned, her face turning to horror as she realized who had entered the stylist’s quarters. "What are you doing here?"

    Kylo Ren's mouth turned up in a slight amusement at how flustered she’d become in a matter of seconds. “Call me Ben."