@pelagaios LIKED FOR A STARTER
with what little money dwells within his pockets, it became rather quickly to be a matter of saving until a purchase was absolutely necessary. though, he did possess something like a weapon thus perhaps holding someone at gun-point for their money wasn’t entirely crossed off of the option list just yet, there was a more practical way to go about ensuring he did not merely throw away cash at the first moment he could. not that he was the sort. rather, his entire life he had been something of a prude when it came to money ; spending as little possible, for the sake of reaping a much more worthy reward.
for what he lacked in wealth, he had always made up for in experience and knowledge.
but there was one purchase he felt to be entirely needed, something which would provide not only the answer to many questions rattling about his brain, but also serve as perhaps filler for the time he would most likely spend aboard the shuttle he was destined to board in the near future. a newspaper ; black & white and incredibly old fashioned as these things do go. no holographic images, no scanned data. it was incredibly simple, for a man far too used to only the latest technology. he pays for the paper and brandishes it before him, the cold wind whipping his neck as he reads across the printed words for the answers he seeks. the why’s, why how’s, the where’s... two-thousand and seventeen. the date scripted so plainly for him to see. well, there was one answer.
but before he has time to divulge into the edition, the breeze rips the paper from his gloved grip and flies forward as if pulled away from him by a supernatural force. the gale sends it hurtling down, leaving hux only to play audience, as it whisks down and smacks a stranger plain in the face. instead of offering an apology, or even chasing after the runaway paper, the general stares down the victim of the newspaper attack, walking across eventually with the pace of a man only half-interested.
“ there’d better not be drool staining this now. “ comes the eventual remark, tone firm as he rips the paper away from the young man. his gaze is as ice cold as the cruel wind which slaps against the cheeks of all who brace the day, a searing sort of unlikable stare.