Disclaimer: My last name isn't Disney. End of story.

~Beauty and the Beat~

Sometimes Ben Solo wanted to just up and throw Mace out of a window. Sure, he appreciated his boss, the fact that he paid him well and gave him decent benefits, put up with his short temper and allowed him some creativity and freedom with his show. It's just that sometimes he could just be so damn strict and demanding. He'd come into work sick before, sneezing, wheezing, hungover, exhausted, nauseous, aching and sore; in fact, he rarely asked for sick days.

It was just that this time, this one rare time, he had actually called in sick, and Mace Windu had called him right back in the next day, before he could even type out an e-mail requesting another. The doctor had diagnosed him with viral pharyngitis, and so his throat was beyond miserable. He'd thought strep was bad. Breathing in the cold air when he'd walked out to his car that morning had been the equivalent of swallowing knives. Two Ibuprofen and two Nyquil liquid-gels at the same time had done hardly anything to calm the fever racking his body and the pain splitting skull when he laid down in bed.

Between his screwed-up Circadian Rhythm due to work and the virus attacking his system, he'd hardly gotten any sleep last night. Waking up to stern messages from his boss about needing to oversee repairs to his equipment had not made his morning any better. 'I swear, if Max breaks my equipment one more God damned time, I will slice his head off with a butter knife.' Luckily Mace had already called the repairman. All he had to do was show up, supervise, test the equipment to make sure everything functioned to his liking, and leave. His throat burned in pain as he took a gulp of his hot coffee and he gasped and hacked, careful to keep his watering eyes open and on the road.

"Not smart, Ben, not smart." He kind of regretted being so snappish with the poor guy who made him his drink that morning. Ben liked First Order, specifically their Starkillers. "So black that not even a star could shine through it" was the corny little description on their specials board that sat in the window. He went there every day right after he woke up, which was perfect timing given that even a coffee shop near the airport would never be busy at three in the afternoon. He knew he tended to be nasty without his coffee, and so he tried to talk to as few people as possible until he'd had it. Besides, he talked for a living, and as an introvert he got tired of that rather easily.

When he arrived at the studio, he looked over and decided that it would be safe to try again, and this time he sighed in bliss as the liquid ran down his throat, just the perfect temperature to soothe the grating pain. Making sure that he had a handkerchief and plenty of cough drops in his coat pockets, he wrapped his black scarf from his collar to his nose, grabbed his precious caffeine and stepped out of the car. Immediately he noticed the van parked a few spaces down, the giant orange Geek Squad logo popping out like a sore thumb on the black paint. 'Well at least this one knows how to be on time.'

He stalked through the building with half lidded eyes, only bothering to unwrap his scarf enough to keep drinking before his coffee got cold. Ben stopped for a second at the door leading into Valorum's studio, curiosity piqued at hearing a certain incumbent's muffled voice. He peered into the glass and made eye contact with the interviewee, one Governor Snoke, briefly, before turning on his heel and taking a sharp right to get to Mace's office. He snuffled a bit, resisting the urge to blow his nose as he knocked on his boss' door.

"Come in." He opened the door wordlessly, but instead of the usual goateed, balding man whose name he couldn't quite remember, it was a pretty, slightly muscular brunette about his age that sat in one of the chairs across from the studio owner. His mind froze, so he forced himself to look at his boss instead of staring at the beauty in front of him. "You're late." He pointedly held Mace's gaze without blinking as he took a long swig of his coffee. The dark skinned man merely huffed before standing up and gesturing sternly towards the girl who was wearing nothing but jeans and the t-shirt with her company's logo on it. 'How does she not have hypothermia right now?' "This is Rey. She'll be repairing your equipment for you."

Ben gazed at his boss with a deadpan expression. 'What, does he want me say "thank you," and before the job is even done?' Rey stood up on cue and turned to face him, only to crane her neck when she saw how much taller he was than her. When she smiled politely her hazel eyes seemed to glow with warmth, and something tapped at his memory, like he should know this woman.

"Hello!" She extended her hand for a shake. Ah, the British accent rang a bell. She was the one who had called in to request his remix of Open Arms last week. It's not often that you found someone from England in Alaska, after all. He stuck his free hand in a coat pocket and gestured with his cup, nodding.

"Ben." She lowered her hand, blinking, taken aback and perhaps a little confused by his impolite refusal to shake her hand.

"Ben's sick, Ms. Rey. You'll have to forgive his lack of… conversation." Mace pointedly held his gaze without blinking as he said all of this. The man in question clenched his teeth and stepped out of the way, holding the door open with his foot to let Rey walk through with a box of equipment he hadn't even noticed in tow before letting it swing shut.

"This way." He turned walked down the hall, glancing over his shoulder periodically to ensure that she was following him, and soon they found themselves at a locked door, the glass showing a dark waiting room and studio just beyond. Ben fiddled with his keys for a second before unlocking it. He flipped the light switch by reflex and swept into the room, putting his cup down on the table, his coat almost looked like a cape as he removed it while walking across the room to the studio door. Unlocking that one as well, he once again flipped on the lights before going over to drape his trench coat on the chair, more out of habit than anything else.

He turned to find Rey following him in tentatively, taking everything in as she went. Belatedly he realized that he'd been staring and wandered back into the waiting room where he downed the rest of his Starkiller and tossed the cup into a recycle bin by the door. 'This is going to be a fun day.'