The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming and Hux could only press his nails in his palms to avoid shooting his hand in the air to yell scientifically accurate facts at the presenter. On the chair next to him, his colleague and friend Phasma seemed to have noticed his anger and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Does he even hear himself?" Hux whispered.

"Since he's doing the presentation, I think he does," she replied, her red lips slightly smiling.

"Remind me again why you're here?" Hux asked in a low voice. "Last I checked, this voodoo nonsense has nothing to do with self-care."

She shrugged and wrote some words on the notepad resting on the right knee of her crossed legs. Again, Hux admired her capacity at multitasking.

"Boss thinks this might help people who suffer from illness, whether to help accept the fatality or to give hope in a cure, I'm not sure," she admitted and raised her eyes to look at the speaker who was still delivering his presentation in a monotone voice.

Luckily, Hux and Phasma were sitting in the back of the conference room and despite the low number of participants, the dark-haired man did not seem to mind their lack of attention.

"You?" Phasma asked, still taking notes, though Hux now suspected she was scribbling her shopping list. "Seems a bit far from engineering and science," she added.

"Which is exactly why my editor-in-chief wanted me here," he replied. "To bust those hippie con artists," he continued after Phasma nodded.

"I got the idea," she replied. "Makes more sense for you to be here than me."

Hux let out a low growl.

"You think? Because writing an in-depth article about some gibberish is more interesting or important than informing our readers about a new molecule that showed positive results against Alzheimer?" He countered.

It took him a few seconds and Phasma's total lack of reaction to realize he had spoken too loud and the room was now too silent.

"Should I explain this gibberish once more if it is too difficult for you to understand?" The presenter told Hux, loud enough for everyone to mistake his tone for annoyance whereas Hux detected only amusement. But then, he never was really good at deciphering people's emotions.

"No, it is quite clear actually," Hux answered. "Though it would be nice if you could present some scientific evidence."

A few heads turned and Hux could feel their gaze on him but kept his face straight, staring at the presenter.

"Again, if the scientists were interested, they would have come forward already," the speaker said in a low voice. "As there are only a few who are blessed…"

"Ah! Yes!" Hux cut him. "Only a gifted elite is able to control this… this… farce or force, whatever you call it, which means again that regular people have to blindly believe in something intangible."

Immediately, the presenter's face twisted in something dangerous. He was pissed, that much Hux could tell.

"Hux," Phasma whispered next to him. "You better not go home alone, he will break you in half."

"This is no joke," the dark-haired man growled. "Your lack of faith is only sign of how little you understand the world. If you do not see something," he hissed "then it doesn't exist. Isn't that right, Mister…?"

"Aaaaand, we're done!" a tall and bulky women interrupted, jumping from her seat on the first row. She hurried next to the presenter who huffed loudly and turned to face the desk to his left filled with flyers. "Thank you Mr. Ren for your detailed and impressive presentation. Unfortunately the time is up and we must clear the room for the next lecture." She clapped her hands, nodded and smiled at the audience. "If you have questions about the Force, Mr. Ren will gladly answer them for the next fifteen minutes." She eyed Hux and frowned. "However I must remind you that debating faith here is not the appropriate place and I am sure you can find some forums on internet to discuss your views."

A few chuckles rose from the listeners.

"Thank you again for joining this conference and don't forget to get a flyer with the list of conferences sponsored by Hope Association," she concluded before nodding once more and smiling widely.

While a handful of attendees rose and went to talk to the presenter, Hux and Phasma remained seated. She smiled while slowly shaking her head.

"What?" Hux grumbled. "It's not enough for this Association to show a pretty face to silence my wit and cleverness."

"Pretty face?"

"Pretty figure," he corrected. "You cannot deny that he's got a nice built."

She turned her head to look at the presenter once more. Strangely, he seemed to be watching them, as he quickly focused his attention back to a couple of elderly men. "True," she admitted. "Though I'm sure I can do more push-ups than him."

"Of course you do. And kick his arse in ten seconds flat."

"You're exaggerating," she tutted him. "Again."

"Fifteen seconds."

"That's more like it!" She laughed and stood up. "Are you going to ask nice-built over there for an interview?"

Hux sighed while looking at his own sparse notes. He knew he would remember most of the presentation but that wouldn't suffice to write an article. As least not an interesting one.

"I should. Perhaps I'll manage to get something interesting out of this nonsense. You?"

"I've got everything I need. Don't get yourself killed just yet." She smiled and looked down at him. "Or it will end up like the Tarkin case all over again."

Hux grumbled then stood up. "You're giving me nightmares already!"

Phasma let out a loud laugh and after shaking his hand farewell, she went on her way, her high heels clicking on the polished floor. As Hux watched her leave, he started to think about questions he should ask and how to formulate them without angering the presenter. Maybe he ought to get his name right first. What was it again? Kyle? Kyle Ben? Or was it Ren? It still amazed him how easily he forgot information that didn't fully interest him.

He gathered his belongings, left his row and started to walk toward the presenter before the tall and bulky woman jumped in front of him. He stopped and knew exactly what would follow.

"Anything I can help you with?" She asked, her hands joined in front of her.

"No, I just have a few questions for my article." Hux explained.

"I'm afraid we're out of time for questions," she said, her smile a little forced.

"I'll be quick, then."

"I'm sorry but the time is up. As you can see, the other lecture is ready to start."

Hux turned and looked at the handful of people who were chatting outside the conference room.

"Then I'll just schedule a meeting with him. That won't take long."

"I'm afraid I have to insist." With her right hand, she showed him the exit door. "I am sure you can schedule a meeting with Mr. Ren outside of this room."

Hux didn't insist further. Clearly, she wanted him out of her hair. As he nodded, he reminded himself to write a hellish article about her so-called "Hope Association" and how she managed conference rooms, just to spite her. And yes, he was childish like that.

He walked out of the room, feeling her eyes following his every move, then reached the elevators. He pressed the button and didn't have to wait long until the doors opened. A handful of people exited and he hurried inside, pressed the ground floor button then the one to speed-up the door closure. He really wasn't in a mood to share anything with any of his colleagues (amongst journalists, everyone is a colleague, even if working for a different magazine) or bloggers or members of the "Hope Association". He estimated he had heard enough non-sense for the day. Possibly the week.

He left the elevator and walked through the great hall before exiting the building. The doorman saluted him while holding the door opened. As expected, the wind was blowing and Hux had to turn his peacoat's collar up to keep some warmth. Immediately, he noticed the flood of cars honking and staying almost stationary in the street. Which wasn't a surprise as it was peak hour. The subway would be barfing with passengers and the taxis wouldn't move any faster. Which meant he wouldn't get home before several hours and he could only hope Millie wouldn't notice his long absence. He left a lot of food for her so she should be alright for now. Better hope so, especially for the sake of his couch.

And as his day couldn't get any worse, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. When he noticed the caller-ID, he sighed and rushed back inside the building as the call might take a while.

"Yes, Maz." he answered. It was never a good sign when your editor-in-chief called.

"You better not be answering your phone if the presentation isn't over!" She replied with her usual attitude.

"It's over. I'm on my way home. You'll get the article before the end of the week," Hux assured her.

That gave him a little more than three days. It was easily manageable.

"Did you stay till the end?" She asked.

"Of course, Maz. Who do you think I am?"

"Better not answer that," she retorted. "Tell me about it."

"Just as I told you it would be. It was ridiculous. Only foolish people would believe this amount of lies." Hux replied honestly. "You should have seen the others. Most of them were ready to throw their money at the guru."

"The guru?"

There was a strange noise, like a sort of bip, but muffled.

"Well, not exactly a guru," Hux explained and immediately noticed the echo. Maz had put him on speaker, he needed to be careful. "The presenter had the audience eating in his hand but he did not set himself as a… err…" he hesitated "a spiritual guide…" he finished.

"You remember the name of the presenter?" she asked.

Hux swore silently.

"Mr. Ren," he replied after a short hesitation. Thank whoever for his memory!

He heard a faint voice, male, as if coming from the other side of Maz' office. He thought he heard something in the lines of "that's him."

"Kylo Ren?" Maz asked.

"Perhaps. Just Mr. Ren," Hux said. "I can check again, give me a minute."

"No, wait."

Another murmur.

"Was he tall? Dark hair?"

"Yes," Hux confirmed. "Huge nose. Even bigger ears that he tried desperately to hide in his mane."

He heard the other voice laugh but it sounded a bit sad.

"That's him, Han," Maz said to that other person in a low voice. "Do you want to go there?"

The sounds now came muffled and started to get on Hux' nerves. He had better things to do than talk about that cult and so-called teacher, or whatever he named himself, Ren.

"Maz, I'll hang up. I'm about to enter the subway," he lied.

"Wait!" Her voice came loud and clear. "Can you go back? Schedule an interview with him?"

"I can try."

"Make sure to get his number," she insisted. "I want to know everything about that man and his religion."

"So it is a sect!" Hux said a bit louder than expected.

"I'm counting on you. Get me the most detailed information you can."

Hux sighed.

"Don't get your hopes up. He might have left already."

"Then track him down."

"I'm not-"

"Gotta go. Call me when you have a time and place for the meeting," she said in a hurried voice before hanging up.

Hux took a deep breath and, trying to contain his anger, pocketed his mobile. If she wanted intel about that man, she should hire a detective! He was a journalist, not a private investigator! And what was this deal with the other man. Did she call him Han? What sort of name was that anyway?

He left the building once more, under the scrutiny of the doorman who may have heard the whole conversation. Outside, the traffic did not improve one bit and Hux could feel the cold wrap around his legs and reach under his coat. He gave two hours before snow would start to fall and bury the city under a thick layer that would freeze the traffic even more.

Just to spite Maz, he decided to take a taxi and put it on his expense report. If she wanted him to take on another role, she would have to pay! But to get it approved, he'd have to fulfill his mission first and get to talk to that Mr. Ren. And he really wasn't looking forward to talking with a guru. As pretty as his figure might be.

As he walked back into the building for the second time, the doorman eyed him suspiciously now. He headed for the elevators and pressed the button. He had to wait for several seconds before the doors of the one on the right opened. Again, pushed another button for the tenth floor and part of his mind wondered how such a small group like "Hope Association" could rent such a nice room in a renown building in that fancy part of the city. It didn't make sense. Unless they had donors or had connections. Maybe he should investigate and let one of his whistleblower friend or colleague know.

Once he reached the floor, he soon realized from the closed door and the monotone voice coming through, that the new conference had already started. He cursed under his breath. He had to find that man and sooner the better.

He did not waste any more time and started to look around. All rooms on the floor had a little placard with their number and function. Everything was so neat and organized, he liked it a lot. Soon he found a door labeled "dressing and break room". He knocked twice then opened the door.

It was a small room with a row of lockers against the wall on the left followed by a few hangers with coats, and in the middle two round tables with four chairs each. Against the right wall, a kitchen worktop with a coffee machine and a microwave. In front of him, the presenter had his back turned to Hux and was putting his laptop in a messenger bag using one of the table for support. Hux took a step forward and cleared his throat, ready to ask for a meeting with the man.

"I don't sign autographs," the man said before Hux could say a word.

"I… don't want any autograph," Hux replied, a little setback. "I'm glad you're still here, actually."

"That was a joke."

"I'm sorry?"

The presenter closed his bag and gave Hux a quarter-head turn. Slowly, he stood straighter and fully confronted Hux. He had a serious look on his face though Hux couldn't help but notice the little stretch on the corner of his lips.

"The autograph," he explained. "Since no one asks me for autographs."

"Ah." Hux simply said, not really sure what protocol he should adopt.

Immediately, the tiniest smirk Hux had identified vanished from the man's face.

"That wasn't funny," he admitted with a nod.

Again, Hux was at a loss at what to say. On one hand he should use all his charm to get the interview he wanted. On the other, being nice didn't come naturally to him. He decided to try his best.

"It was," he assured.

The man looked at him sharply and Hux could only see soulful brown eyes staring at him. For a moment, Hux wondered how these eyes could shine so brightly. Must have been the neon lights on the ceiling.

"You don't think it's funny," Mr. Ren commented.

"I don't," Hux confirmed. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't." He shook his head. What was he doing? He was here to get more information about that thing, the Force or whatever, and apparently his phone number. "Anyway," Hux continued, trying to focus on the task at hands. "I'm glad you're still here."

"That, you are." the man replied.

Hux refrained from making a snarky comment and forced a smile on his face. "My name is Hux and I am a journalist for Takodatech. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the Force."

The man squinted at him and Hux did his best to not find it a bit cute. The man was massive and just a bit taller than him. As he walked toward Hux, messenger bag on one shoulder, he seemed like he was looming. If he wanted to physically impress Hux, it worked. However, frighten him? Scare him? Not a chance.

"Though your presentation was quite extensive, I would require more in-depth information to complete my article," Hux continued when he did not receive any reply from Mr. Ren who was still staring.

"How would you like to proceed?" The presenter asked, his voice deep.

He was now standing right in front of Hux, towering him in a way someone as tall as Hux did not think possible.

Hux swallowed, forcing himself to stand his ground. "I was thinking between one and two hours, at your convenience."

"As you seemed not that interested in my presentation, I highly doubt two hours would be enough," Mr. Ren replied with a mocking tone.

"I can assure you I am highly capable of understanding your… topic." Hux replied and felt a bit insulted when the man smirked at him.

"Very well," the black-haired man agreed. "However I must tell that I will leave tomorrow early morning for a retreat."

"Alright, when will you be back?" Hux asked.

"In a month. Maybe two. Depends."

Hux shook his head. "That won't work. I have to file the article before the end of the week."

"Then I guess you'll have to do with the information from the presentation," he said, then walked past Hux, bumping his shoulder intentionally.

Hux huffed then followed the man who was heading for the elevators. "You can give me your phone number and I can call you tomorrow for the interview, once you reached your destination. A face-to-face meeting isn't mandatory," he insisted, forcing his steps to match Mr. Ren's.

"I won't." The man pressed the elevator's button and immediately, the doors on the right opened. "I don't give my phone number to anyone. Least a journalist who deemed beneath him to listen to me."

Hux slipped in the elevator right after the man. "I listened," he insisted, his patience stretching thin, "however I do not recall any scientific evidence, hence the interview so you could enlighten me and I'd be able to write a good article."

Against his better judgment, he noticed his tone had been a bit brittle and before he tried to compensate with a nicer remark, the presenter let out a small laugh.

"By interviewing me, you're doing me a favor?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice. "I thought you'd grovel a lot more before using basic manipulation techniques."

"I don't grovel!" Hux shot back, undignified.

"I noticed," the man replied with a barely-there smirk. "Once you drop the fake smiles and false compliment, that is."

Hux opened his mouth to protest but the dark-haired man beat him to it. "And you might even be fun to talk to," he added.

"So, it's working?" Hux asked, noticing his chance and taking it. "You'll give me your phone number and I'll call tomorrow?"

"That's not what I said. And again, I'm not giving my number."

As the elevator slowed down and biped just before the doors opened, Hux tried to block the way out by moving in front of the presenter. "Careful, Mr. Ren. Though you were passionate about that topic of yours, it seems like you are just a show off who's waiting for people to beg. Almost desperate, for attention, maybe?"

"Do you want me to make you beg?" Mr. Ren snarled after taking a step forward and slowly lowering his head toward Hux.

His incredibly long and crooked nose was now a few centimeters from Hux's who could only stare at the deep brown eyes and tried hard not to interpret the way said eyes moved to his mouth and back up again. Hux pinched his lips.

"That's what I thought," Mr. Ren smirked before straightening himself once more and forcing Hux to move.

Too stunned to really stand his ground, Hux watched him leave the elevator. However, it took just a couple of seconds to get his mind back in the game. With just a few strides, he caught up with the presenter.

"In that case, I'll give you my phone number and you can call me tomorrow," he insisted.

Hux knew he was persistent, sometimes even single-focused. But this was apparently important for Maz and that Han bloke. He just couldn't let go.

"No," the presenter replied. Hux noticed he slowed down a little while they were crossing the building's great hall, making it easier for Hux to catch up.

"Why not?"

"Because it means you'll wait for my phone call. I won't call you, Mr. Hux."

The doorman opened the door and shot Hux a side-glance. As both men exited the building, Hux noticed the traffic had not improved one bit.

"Are you always this insufferable?" Hux asked when Mr. Ren stopped to look at the honking cars then the sky.

"I don't make promises I cannot keep."

"So, what? You're doing me a favor?"

"Yes, Mr. Hux. Don't expect a phone call from me. Or rather, I promise you I won't call you."

Hux shook his head. "I should have asked for your autograph first," Hux mumbled loud enough for the man to hear him. "Maybe that would have put you in a better mood."

To his surprise, the presenter barked a laugh. "Alright," he said, turning toward Hux. "As it seems we're going nowhere, how about this. Coffee shop or bar?"

Hux opened his mouth before closing it immediately. Surely the man wasn't suggesting to hold the interview right now? Hux desperately wanted to go back home, cuddle with his cat and have some food delivered. However, he could not let a chance like this slip between his fingers.

"Yes!" he exclaimed before the presenter could retract his offer.

The man chuckled. "Yes to what?"

"Coffee, tea, anything." Hux replied, readjusting his messenger bag.

"Coffee shop it is," the man stated, while taking his smartphone out of his pocket. "Let's see if there's something nice around here."

"There's a Starbucks across the street," Hux noticed and when the man shot him a suspecting look, he just shrugged. "Better than freezing in the cold," he retorted. "Or a goat poop smoking and Christmas tree infused tea, or whatever, hippie coffee shop."

"Are you always this insufferable?" Mr. Ren teased, using the same tone as Hux just a minute before.

"Only when it's that cold and I'm trying to get an interview," Hux replied.

"Be glad, you'll have your interview and there's a coffee shop around the block."

The mockery was clear in his voice but Hux did not mind. Actually, he warmed up to the man a little. Maybe he wasn't some hippie-wannabe.

Hux tighten his coat then nodded. "I'll follow you."

As Mr. Ren turned around, he suddenly noticed the man was only wearing a large dark-grey jumper, possibly made of wool, and a sort of black shawl that he had managed to throw over his head, making it like a hood. Hux frowned, recanting his last thought. Maybe he was a hippie-wannabe. A hipster at best!

As the man's long legs already got him at the end of the building, Hux hurried to catch up. He matched his pace and both silently walked until the next intersection. Then, they took a left turn and entered a calmer street, with plane trees every few meters. It clearly was a residential area and Hux wondered how much the rent would cost around here. Possibly more than a month's salary.

Soon enough, they reached a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. A small café which looked more amateur than anything else. He refrained from cringing, not wanting to waste a chance at that interview.

As soon as they entered, Hux could smell cinnamon, vanilla and coffee aromas floating. Without a look to the cashier who welcomed them, Mr. Ren went straight to the opposite corner of the small café where a table and two comfortable armchairs were left empty. The presenter sat on the one next to the wall and removed his shawl. Hux careful placed his messenger bag on the floor and took a pen and his notebook out, took his peacoat off, folded it neatly over the back of the armchair, then sat down. The very next second, a waitress stood next to them and handed a menu.

"To eat or just to drink?" She asked with a faked cheerful voice.

This was the kind of attitude that made Hux miss Ireland. Perhaps people were seen as cold, but at least they didn't try to pretend to be happy to serve rude customers.

"To drink, and one double-espresso for me," he answered without looking at the menu.

"I'll have the same," Mr. Ren ordered. "Thank you," he added when the young waitress trotted to the counter.

They looked at each for a couple of seconds before Hux tapped his notebook with the pen.

"Shall we begin?"

(to be continued)