Chapter Ten: Costume
"Where are we going?" Rey asked from the other side of the bay window, making a face at the clothes she'd been provided, her own ruined beyond repair. They were a simple ensemble, more two-piece jumpsuit than separates, and meant to be worn under stormtrooper armor.
So black, of course.
Kylo Ren ignored her, eyeing the second helping of food she'd refused.
"What are you planning for me?" She tried next, firmly pressing the patient communication pad that sent her voice into the hall. "Stringing me up in front of a First Order firing squad?"
"Eventually," he returned flatly, touching his own panel.
"And in the meantime?"
"I'm going to bury you alive in uneaten provisions while your body consumes itself."
The pithy response took a moment to register, and Rey frowned when it did.
Jokes? She bristled. Is this a game to him?
She hoped he hadn't noticed she wasn't standing upright on her own, needing to lean against the edge of the bed to keep her feet. A meal would certainly help her tenuous stamina, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
"What a fascinating study in stubbornness," Kylo continued from the corridor, clearly seeing her reliance on the bed. "Your idiotic refusal to submit overrides all sense of your self-preservation. Quite a marvel of foresight and 'big picture' thinking."
The sarcasm made her want to curl hands around his throat and throttle him.
"Is it working?" She quipped, struggling to smother the ire in her tone.
"Not enough to warrant the loss of your remaining muscle mass."
Rey felt his stare drift over her arms and torso, lingering on her subtle seat.
"Stop," she growled.
His mask turned to the untouched lunch. "Then make me," it was obvious he alluded to rebuilding her physical strength, but she had other ideas.
Rey stretched an arm out, anger summoning the ripples of Force to her fingers without effort. They had a new edge to them, impatient and greedy, and swirled into a turgid frenzy that felt shockingly alien.
Kylo palmed the glass separating them. "Yes," he urged, suddenly eager. "Feed your hate, let it grow. Feel how easy it makes everything."
Rey sobered instantly. This was the darkness Maz had spoken of. Nothing Kylo Ren approved of led to good things. Dropping her hand back to the sheets, she rose with a wince and limped toward the side table. Releasing the communication pad, she grumbled under her breath, thinking her captor couldn't hear her.
"That ease came with a price, you theatrical monster," she flicked a scornful look at his austere garb. "And obviously taught you nothing of subtlety."
The med-bay door opened in a rush, and Kylo swept in, fists shaking.
"What did you say?!" The exclamation was garbled from ragged exhales batting against his mask's modulator.
Rey held her ground, bravely arching her brow at his swift loss of composure.
I'm the idiot? She asked inwardly, wrestling down a thrum of fear. YOU'RE the fool, frothing and riled at a single slight.
"It's not your inelegant barb, scavenger," Kylo shot back, answering her silent judgement. "Your blind bias is expected—you're a vacuous, unschooled pretender, parroting for the Light," he stepped forward, invading her body space. "It's your blunder in thinking you can comment at all."
Rey started. She hadn't spoken that last part aloud, had she?
"I heard you all the same," he retorted hotly.
"H-How—?"
Kylo interrupted by lifting a finger. Rey felt an unseen pressure coil around her neck. Tugged by an overhead noose, she rose up on her tiptoes as weight left her heels.
"I'm no peer of yours," he continued. "And have killed many for saying much less."
Rey gasped as the invisible noose tightened, closing around her throat.
"My… theatricality…," his voice dropped low. "Is no façade."
Rey grabbed at her neck, teetering to keep her feet on the ground.
"You need a reminder of why Kylo Ren is the most hated, feared man in the galaxy," he spat.