[ Angel starts to explain, words filtering off as she motions instead. Taking a step closer, he glances over at her uncurling hand, unsure exactly what she's holding at first. But after a moment of looking, its clearly a pin. The straight lines and embossing are telling of a military persuasion. Perhaps something left behind in a war that no one remembers any longer.
His expression registers only surprise, eyebrows going up at the young woman. This is– well, it's odd. Hux can count the years he was given gifts on one hand. Everything else was earned (his own medals and accomplishments are in a case on the Finalizer, so probably no more). ]
I– yes, I do. Thank you. [ Contrary to how controlled his voice is, everything underneath is a haze of confusion. Why is he accepting this? It has no bearing. But strangely, it does. ]
no subject
His expression registers only surprise, eyebrows going up at the young woman. This is– well, it's odd. Hux can count the years he was given gifts on one hand. Everything else was earned (his own medals and accomplishments are in a case on the Finalizer, so probably no more). ]
I– yes, I do. Thank you. [ Contrary to how controlled his voice is, everything underneath is a haze of confusion. Why is he accepting this? It has no bearing. But strangely, it does. ]
Wings?