HARD CANDY - Kylo Ren.

Chapter 22 - Interveiws.

You sat nervously, biting your lip until it ached and bled. You let out a small curse, bringing the sleeve of your cardigan to wipe at your bloodied lip.

Your chest had swelled with anxiety, heart racing impossibly fast. You felt so out of place, sitting in such a high-end office, fully furnished with modern designs. The receptionist that had led you into this office looked straight off the runway, her lean body slim and tall. Her hair waves on her shoulders.

You were here for an interview.

Poe always followed on his word. He had pulled some strings and got you an interview with a friend of his that worked at the New York Times — Ms. Phasma. At first glance, she was tall, extremely tall. Her stark blonde hair was pulled into a tight bun, slicked with not a hair out of place.

Her features were sharp, blue eyes burning. Her heels clicked and hips swayed, dressed in a suit jacket and pencil skirt combo, the colour a shade of reflecting grey. She walked with her chin held high, notepad at her side.

You became more self-conscious then before. Suddenly, you felt cheap sitting there, in your worn cardigan and black business-casual dress, your pumps well scuffed with age, your purse out of fashion in your lap.

   Her red painted lips offered a smile towards you as she rounded the large glass desk, sinking into her leather chair with a small huff. She took a moment of readjusting her notepad and clicking her pen, her eyes finally then meeting yours.

   "You're the girl Poe Dameron contacted me about, correct?" She asks you, voice asserting and attention-drawing. You nodded, an awkward smile on your lips.

   "Perfect. You can call Ms. Phasma and only that. I'm one of the heads that run everything here. I make sure things get done, that people aren't slacking off, and at the end of each week, we release a great paper. I hope you're aware that I don't like people who slack off, do you slack off?" She spoke.

   You swallowed hard, trying to take in as much information at once. She spoke quickly and sharply, as if she was a busy woman and had better things to do. You were intimidated by the power that came off of her.

   "Oh, no, no. I'm a hard worker, and I'm really passionate about writing, I mean, it's what I went to college for." You explain, stuttering over your world slightly.

   Her blonde brows furrow. "Well, I hope you are true to your word. Poe told me briefly of your work now — he mentioned something about a diner? Have you never worked for a publishing company before?" She asked you next.

   You pressed your lips into a thin line. You were hoping to lie your way into the job, but thanks to Poe, you were going to have to work a little harder for this.

   "Well, no, but I am a hard worker," you repeat, "and I hope this could be my first. I think this place could really give me my big break, and I would do anything to be able to write." You grit through clenched teeth.

   She bums in response, her polished nails gripping her black pen and she began to scribble some words onto her notepad. Your knee began to bounce nervously, teeth biting the inside of your cheek.

   "You sound like a hard worker," she almost mocks, "why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? How did you become friends with Poe Dameron?" She asks. She spoke as if it was odd for a low-life like you to be friends with a business man like him.