Rain pattered quickly and somberly on the canopy that covered Rey. She stood waiting patiently on the presently empty sidewalk, for her taxi. The original plan was to walk to her destination but a certain someone had qualms about the idea. So there she stayed outside Jakku Towers, her home for these past four years. The building wasn't very impressive; it had only thirteen floors, with mostly small, characterless rooms. Rey had managed to land a decent sized suite with the help of an old friend. The rent alone would have put her without enough to eat. Thankfully, she found a roommate that eased her burdens. It was at the request of this roommate that she remained here instead of trudging through New York's unforgiving rain. Rey sighed to herself and checked the time on her phone. Her taxi was supposed to be here about five minutes ago, if this keeps up she'd be late.

Suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder and a voice speaks, "Still here, kid?" A man in his late sixties wearing a leather jacket was beside her.

"Yeah, Mr. Solo. My taxi seems to be running a little," She gives him a little smile. "You're going to walk Chewie in this rain?"

"I'm old, not crazy, Rey," He states rolling his eyes. "Chewie was getting antsy in the apartment, thought I'd give him some air."

The dog in question, as if replying to Solo's comment, give a low pitched bark. He was aging Tibetan mastiff mix. As far as Rey knows they had been together as long as they lived in the apartment across from her, which coincidentally was a little longer than she did. Though he would never say it out loud, Han solo had taking a shining to the little underdog Rey. She could be quiet and cold but at same time she was strong and loyal to a fault. She reminded him of an old friend.

"Well, if you wait any longer you are definitely going to be late," he said giving Chewie a little pat on the head. "I haven't driven the falcon in awhile, let me give you a lift," he offered.

Rey looked side to side, pretending to consider the idea. "Sure, only if I get shotgun with Chewie," She replied grinning.

Han rolled his eyes, "Alright then, come along." She is just like him, he thought sadly, reminded of better days.

The Millennium Falcon or just Falcon as Rey referred to her was an old rat rod van. She was busted with scrapes and dents covering her body. Solo had tried fixing her up over the years but over no one had parts for the poor thing. He had managed to clean her up and give her a decent paint job. Her engine was surprisingly still intact. It was a miracle that at this point she still ran. According to the old man, she was family heirloom, passed down from one bad driver to his even worse son. Han pat her chasey lovingly and proceeded to climb into the driver seat. Settled in, Rey hugged Chewie as he yipped cheerfully. It took a few moments for the old girl to warm up and start. She sputtered and spoke, before finally evening out to a dull, gentle roar. Han revved her engines before racing out of the parking garage and out onto the streets.

The ride was actually but smooth. The falcon had been through a lot and unfortunately no amount of work could make the poor old thing run smoother. The cab shook uncontrollably, not so much that Rey's head hit the ceiling but enough to cause a general feeling of giddiness in her stomach. Naturally the roar of the engine prevented any real conversation and both driver and passenger were happy with that arrangement. Rey took this time to review the research she had collected on her subject, the elusive Kylo Ren. Shifting Chewie over closer to the car window, so he could poke his little head out, Rey shuffled her files around and began to review the few articles written about him. Han turned her head in her direction, curiously.

"Do you ever just take a break?" he asked jokingly.

Without looking up from her notes, she replied, "I got to make a living and besides just got off a week long break."

He laughed, "Not many people out there that are that dedicated."

She left out a small smile. Not too accustomed to compliments, Rey knew to cherish the few she did get, "Thanks, old man."

"Just don't let it get to your head, kid," he snorted as the falcon pulled up to her destination. "Well, we are here." he said as Rey begin to pack up her things into her bag, "You need a ride back?"

Rey gave Chewie a parting pat and replied, "Nope, they should have everything covered. Thank you again."

"Don't even mention it kid," he spoke, giving a parting smile as she closed the passenger door and watched him speed away.

Bags in hand, she turned to take in the building that would most likely be her home for the next six months. It stood erect, foreboding and imposing, the top floor converging into sharp points that grasped the sky. Feeling like an idiot for standing out here and just admiring the oddly pleasing symmetric geometry, Rey rushed in through automatic sliding doors. Similar to the outside, the interior reception area of the ground floor was cold, sleek and modern, complete with industrial steel beams across the ceiling. Rey walked up to the receptionist, the only person in the expansive room. She gave Rey an indifferent sweep and then continued about her business.

Rey gulped and confidently spoke, "Hi, I'm here on behalf of The Resistance-"

"What's your name?" She harshly cuts Rey off, rapidly typing away at her computer.

"I'm Rey from-"

"Floor 26, Ms. Phasma should be receiving you, here is a key to the suite. It's room 13 on that floor." With that she handed Rey a key, pointed to the elevator and then returned to her work.

A Little unnerved but still determined, Rey proceeded to the elevator. It hummed as she began her ascent. She took this opportunity to finish her review of Kylo Ren's career. From what she was able to gather, he is generally respected as a good actor and has earned his fame. He has acted in a great number of roles from a despicable villain in movies to the unlikely protagonists in a number of TV serials. Funny thing is that the media doesn't really talk about him, at least not about his personal life unlike his co-stars. There are plenty of rumors circulating the entertainment scene that he throws tantrums, destroys property, and is cold, arrogant and overall misanthropic. His real name isn't even known; Rey had only managed to weasel his first name from Phasma, Ben. Apart from this, she did manage to find an old interview from one of his first big breaks. The Kylo back then seemed different of how everyone else has described him. He was humble, respectful almost gentle; he spoke very passionately about his grandmother, none other than Padmé Amidala. She snorted and thought, Organa has a weird sense of humor. Maybe her extensive knowledge of Amidala will help get through to him. Maybe.

The elevator finally reaches the correct floor and the doors open just as Rey finishes putting away her notes. The door opens to a small waiting room with a couch and a few chairs that opens to a hallway with a couple sets of doors on either side. Rey's eyes immediately find a seated Phasma before her. She stood up at the sight of Rey and extended a hand forward for a handshake. She stood almost a foot taller than Rey, even thought she was wearing flats and Rey had on her heeled boots. Phasma had short blonde hair that only accented her height and steel blue eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you Miss Rey." She spoke with her silvery voice as they shook hands.

Rey had told her several times over the phone to just call her Rey, that it wasn't a surname. But she'll just have to roll with it, "Same here, you're much taller than I'd imagined.

Phasma laughed in return, "So I've been told. I've sure you've been given a key to suite. I've personally prepared the guest bedroom, though you will have share a bathroom."

They began walking over to room 13, "Unfortunately Ren was called away to handle an early morning shoot. So he was unable to personally receive you."

Rey was almost relieved to hear this, not that she was nervous or anything. This assignment was going to take some adjustment, "Yes, very unfortunate. Um?"

"Yes?"

"So am I allowed leave to go home certain days or is my shadowing a strict thing?"

Again, Phasma laughed, "Of course you're allowed to leave. The contract is very flexible, as long as you get material to write about when you follow around Ren. Then you may come and go as you please. Though it is preferable if you spend as much time as possible with him, especially during filming."

"Of course, makes sense." They had arrived at the door that leads to the apartment and Phasma used Rey's key to unlock the door. The pair step into a very modern, open concept apartment. Rey took minute to get used to set up, the living room was at the center of the apartment with a decent sized kitchen to her right and a small hallway that presumably led to their rooms. One of the walls that the living room opened up to was a giant window with a view of the city below. Rain still splattered over the immaculate plane.

"Well, here we are. It that bag all you has brought?" Phasma asked gesturing to the duffle bag on Rey's shoulder.

"Yep, don't need much," Rey responded.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you to settle in. Ren should be coming back from his shoot around lunchtime. Oh! And before I go here's a list of Ren's schedule and contact information. You should already have my number, so if any questions arise."

"Of course, thanks Phasma," Rey replied and Phasma returned with what Rey thought was a ghost of smile before she left the room. Rey lugged her bags into door nearest the bathroom that Phasma had designated as her own. The room was very much like the rest of the apartment, mostly bare except for one large window; a twin sized bed, a desk and half full bookshelf. Rey set down her duffle bag on the bed and took in the view from her window, cars stood stifled in traffic, pedestrians strutted to and fro on the sidewalks, life kept moving, all expect for her.

She closed her eyes for moment allowing nothing but the soothing sound of rain to comfort her. Then went to work setting up her room, her small set of clothes were hanged and her laptop and other work-related materials were meticulously arranged on the desk. She had a feeling they'd be best friends.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Rey sat on her bed and watched the rain distort her reflection on the window. All that was left is to wait for Kylo—No

Ben—to arrive, which according to the clock on the bedside table would be any minute now.

To say Kylo Ren had had a bad morning would be a complete and utter understatement. If he so desired, he might have discussed his plethora of misfortunes at great length. Instead, he pushed the close doors button for the building elevator and let his aching head lie on the cool metal of the elevator walls. The pain dulled but was not dispelled as he could finally think clearly. He directed his jumbled monologue to unravel the issue of his current project, Star Killer. The show was, well, poor written, extremely cheesy and the actors were sub-par to put it kindly. He could understand the studio's decision to cut funding for another season and end it off here. Not mention, the poor reviews received from critics. Hell, even the studio from which that stupid reporter had come from had tore down the production. In all honesty, Ren was glad to wrap up the shooting for the remaining episodes and lay this project to rest. The only problem was that with Star Killer in the dumps, he had nothing to work on for another two months. Back in the old days, this would have meant trouble with the bills, but now that he was established and prepared for such situations, there was no need. It was the challenge of occupying himself till the next production. He sighed lightly beating his head on the wall, painfully aware of the dull thuds he was producing. Looking for a distraction, his thoughts turned to that mysterious journalist, this Rey. Just who is she? He had not heard or read anything by her before; then again he wasn't much for reading the news. Also, why no surname? Surely even if the poor girl were an orphan, she would have eventually adopted some foster-name. Another thing, why was she writing about him? From what he gathered from Phasma's droning, she was the one who reached out to them and offered this arrangement. He prided himself on being a well-known and respected actor but he avoided media attention like the plague. How did some entertainment reporter even come to the conclusion that the public would be interested in an article about HIM? Then he remembered something, Amidala. This girl was the one who had written that excessively discussed piece on his grandmother. His mind clicked, So, she thinks she's an expert.

Interrupting his musings, the elevator dinged loudly as he had arrived at his destination. He stepped out and quickly strided to that door that led to his apartment. The door was simple, with only the number 13 in gold nailed to its surface. He put his key in the lock and found the door was already unlocked. He entered the suite and found it to be as pristine as he left it. The only thing he found amiss was the unidentifiable figure sitting on his couch.

Rey had curled up into the couch in the main room. She currently had fixed her attention on the massive window, as the pattering of rain soothed her nerves. She couldn't explain why she felt so nervous. Perhaps, the reality of the situation had hit, she really was going to spend the next six months with a complete stranger. Perhaps, she felt homesick, knowing that she probably won't get to the sleep in her own bed or get the wake to smell of Finn's cooking. Perhaps, she was just tired of the waiting. Whatever it was, it dissipated rather quickly as the sound of a key in the door lock, roused her out of her contemplative state. She quickly changed her position, from being curled into a little ball feet tucked into her frame to sitting upright hands crossed in her lap. She mentally prepared herself, introduction and mannerisms set. What she didn't expect was the way he would act.

Anger, and worse of all, it had an unidentifiable origin. It took a minute but he recognized her plain face from the photos Phasma had provided. All he could think was that a stranger had invaded the sanctity of his home.

The creature spoke up after shrinking in her hard, accusatory gaze for a moment, "My name is-"

"I already know who you are," he interrupted, with a cold and mechanical tone. "Why are you are?"

Rey was left a little flustered and unsure of herself as the man in question came in and destroyed her little apostrophe. "I was told to come here and bring my things," She said gesturing in the direction of the hallway that leads to their receptive rooms.

"And who told you that?"

"Phasma." She spoke with a hardness to nearly match his own, confidence rising as the initial scare faded away.

"Phasma?" At last an emotion appeared, surprise.

"She was the one to let me in here and set up my room and etc."

"Ah," He spoke; the h trailed off and faded to silence. He gave her a quick nod and launched into an interrogation, "So this is to proceed for six months?"

"Yes."

"And you are to stay in my home for that entire time?'

"Yes, well almost. I will not be at your side 24/7." She lightly chuckled, hoping to ease the tension in the air. Her efforts resulted in more painful silence, "There will be times and situations in which I will need to go to my office or home. But for the most part, yes I will be here or work or wherever you are."

"Hmm…" He moved over to the kitchen counter and set down his things.

Initial shock of the situation worn off, Rey took a moment to examine him. He was tall, much taller than what pictures online suggested. He had mottled pale, almost translucent skin. His hair was raven black, with long; dare she say luscious locks that framed his face quite nicely. His face was like the pictures had depicted. It was the face of man with a hint of childish youth that refused to loosen its grip upon his countenance. The thing that she and apparently many others gravitated towards, his nose, it was rather large and dominated his features. Oddly enough, she found its presence charming. At last she found his eyes and as cliché as it sounded she really did get lost in them. Though she knew they must be dark brown, she couldn't help but feel they were black, an endless void, and windows' to a soulless host. Normally, she could piece together the disposition of person from the lines that snaked through their irises. With him, she felt if an opaque veil had taken ahold of his pupils and prevented her from understanding him.

So not at all what he had anticipated, the girl was decent; he thought quietly. She was perhaps a bit shaky but surprisingly polite. Yet, the desire to anger her persisted.

"Are you going to just sit and stare?" he quipped, removing his coat.

The girl or Rey, simply shrugged and gave him an unreadable look for a moment, before rising and walking into what he assumed what was going to be her room. He couldn't help himself but stare at her form as she walked away. For a reporter, she the physique of an athlete; tanned skin, defined muscles, and strength in her gait.

Rey let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. All she could think about was how his voice bounced off the walls and his eyes seemed to simultaneously be empty and inviting. She shook her head and told herself to concentrate: she was here to work. Remember what Professor Luke had said, when observing your subject, there is no emotion, only peace. She repeated his mantra over and over. While it dispelled the quickness of her heartbeat, a dull indistinguishable urge took its place. Rey decided to interpret this as hate, unbridled hate for the subject of her next article.

Great, she thought, another actor whose balls I want to rip off, why am I here again? She let out a frustrated grunt, before pulling out her laptop and distracting herself with emails and edits