"We need to discuss this privately," Hux said.
"No, we don't."
Hux was stymied. He couldn't give orders to his own supreme leader – at least, not in front of people. Given the choking and getting slammed about – not elsewhere, either. Hux had no idea what Ren was playing at, wanting them to share a room. A bed, too? What else?
"There are … questions. I-" Hux looked past Ren at the lieutenant who was minding her own business at her console, but easily able to overhear them.
Ren shook his head. "No. You have your orders."
Hux bared his teeth slightly. "We need to discuss logistics, at least." His voice was strained.
"The arrangements are effective immediately." Ren returned to the console, obviously having run out of patience for the discussion.
Hux ignored the brush-off and spoke to Ren's back. "Are we trading shifts?" The best-case scenario would be if they used the same quarters but switched shifts – a common arrangement for troopers when space was limited. Nothing else seemed sensible unless there was something horribly sexual and predatory about the whole thing. Was there?
Ren turned to him with a glare. "No. You are not to question my orders further." There was a subtle shift on the bridge as everyone within earshot started listening as closely as they could.
Hux blew out a huff of air, lips pressed tightly together. He'd been planning to work into the next shift if the stimulants lasted that long. He'd been awake for at least thirty hours. If he worked until he crashed, he wouldn't be stumbling into the relative safety of his own quarters to collapse in his bed. He would be stumbling into Ren's, trying to make careful decisions while impaired much worse than he already was.
"Yes sir," Hux said in a properly subdued tone that no one could claim was inappropriate. "I will go make arrangements now." He turned on his heel and strode from the bridge.