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Captain Phasma sat across the small table in Kylo’s quarters. They were playing a particularly intense round of go-fish. They had started in one of the common rooms, but had been forced to move due to “overly aggressive and disruptive tactics” and “destruction of property”. But honestly, what can you expect when you try to force-read the mind of your opponent and she catches on? General screaming and chair throwing seems like the natural choice. Phasma may have seemed all put together and calm, but her competitive spirit rivals even his when she lets it get the better of her.
There they were, evenly matched, Kylo, his own mask resting in the box of dust, and Phasma, mask firmly on her face. Phasma wore her mask nearly all the time, except to eat, which she did in her quarters. Sure, he had a general sense of what she looked like (one time she knocked her helmet off because she won a rather nasty game of ping-pong), but she always scrambled to put it back right away. She suddenly put down her cards. “Ren, I have a problem. Can you help me?”
Kylo set down his own cards. Phasma seemed like the person who would never admit or ask for help even if she was falling into a sarlacc pit. It must be serious.
“You seem like the person who always has the solution to this particular issue. I’ve struggled with it a long time, and I never seem to be able to escape it.”
Kylo thought a minute. “You're not force sensitive, so you can’t mean the light side. What could I possibly help you with?”
Phasma took a deep breath. “I need to show you something.”
She reached behind her and her helmet came off with a hiss. She had a strong face and jaw and her blond hair stuck out a little from underneath a black cloth wrapped around her head. She looked terribly sad.
Kylo sat forward, this could truly be serious, “You don’t happen to have a dark lord living off the back of your head do you?”
She looked confused. “What? No,” she said, “look.”
She took of the hat.
Kylo gasped. It was much, much worse than he thought. “And you’ve been struggling, fighting with this for so long”
She nodded. “Can you help?”
Kylo’s eyes were wide. “You have come to the right person, Phasma. But this is by far the worst case of helmet hair I have ever seen.”
“I know!” she sobbed, holding her head in her hands. Her blond hair was sticking out in all directions, sticking up, plastered to her head, it was a disaster. “For years I’ve tried everything: buns, ponytails, braids, gel, the only thing I can do is cut my hair short and always wear a hat so no one sees! I’m sick, sick! I would shave it all off and end this but I don’t think have the bone structure!”
This was indeed a serious matter. Kylo reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Don’t say such things Phasma. For generations in my family, hair and hair care have always been one of the most important things in life. A true skywalker was measured not by their skills, but by their flowing locks. It showed their strength and connection with the force. Be careful before you do such important thing”
Phasma sniffed. “And you, you wear a helmet as much as I do, and yet your hair is always perfect, perfect”
Kylo smiled, “I learned a few tricks of the trade. But it is my sacred duty in memory of Darth Vader to help others in this struggle.”
“But wasn’t Vader bald? And didn’t he only have hair when he was on the light side?.”
“It's not like it was his fault he was bald”
Phasma coughed. Kylo wasn’t sure he liked that attitude.
“Do you want my help or not?”
She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Yes!”
Kylo squealed like a little baby ewok and skipped off, holding Phasma's hand and leading her while singing into the washroom unit. (Sorry about that, Phasma wrote it in, it was the only way she would let me include this chapter and reveal her dark depressing secretive secrety secret affliction of the most horrendous most horrifying ... OW THAT HURT PHASMA! WRITE YOUR OWN MEMOIR AND STOP STIFLING MY CREATIVITY! WAIT, YOU’LL INCLUDE WHAT IN IT? YOU WOULDN’T DARE! NO PLEASE DON’T! FINE I’LL STOP GOSH.
Anyway, if people will stop interrupting I’ll continue.
“Wow, this is a large washing unit, hardly standard. And you have a vanity?”
“I had this room specially designed to suit my needs. And yes, the lighting is perfect. Do you think all of this” he gestured to himself. “Happens with my sleep schedule? No.”
Kylo opened the cabinet with the lock on it. Inside were countless brushes, bottles of shampoo, conditioner, sprays, ties, bobby pins, curlers, dryers, and gels of all kinds. “Interplanetary life can cause great strain and dryness. Not to mention trips to planets with wet climates can do terrible things unless your mask filters out excess humidity. Phasma, your helmet does have a dehumidifier function, right? Tell me you use it. Please tell me you use it.
“Uhh, okay I use it.”
“Phasma! And look at those split ends! Let’s see” He ducked under the shelf. “We’re going to need this, and this and this” he started grabbing numerous small bottles. “Oh, this will be good too, and that one for space-dust”
Phasma tried to see what he was grabbing. Kylo stood up triumphant, arms full of lotions and potions. A hair dryer was slung over his shoulder and he pulled some towels out of the closet. “Get ready Phasma,” he said. “I hope you’re not wearing anything that could get wet, because we have work to do.” Kylo cracked his knuckles. “You're about to go from Phasma to Phabulous. Now, hold your breath and close your eyes.”
“Wha-” she sputtered. Kylo pitched her chair backwards so she was in the sink, water coming down over her head. He squeezed out a large amount of green goo. She nearly choked from the terrible smell.
Kylo rolled his eyes, “It’s infused with gunga berry juice. Smells bad, works great for nourishing the scalp. I did say hold your breath.”
She didn’t have time to respond as Kylo swooped down, covering her with bubbles. Hours went by, far past general curfew. Finally, Phasma sat in front of the mirror, eyes closed. Her short hair had been braided, washed, blow dryed, everything you could imagine.
“This Phasma, is the key. The ultimate trick to keeping hair luscious for eons to come.” He sprayed a little on her head. Her hair practically glowed. “Open your eyes, and gaze upon your new incarnation”
Phasma did, and her jaw dropped. Her blond hair now rested calmly where it should be, clean and smooth. Kylo popped her helmet on. She gasped “No!” but then “Wait a second...”
Kylo smiled. “I turned on the ventilator in your helmet, you should have much better circulation and less perspiration on your head. It isn’t just for filtering out fumes and smoke. Now look,” he pulled the helmet off again. She was speechless. Her her remained in the same style, nothing stuck up out of place. “This is a new beginning for you Phasma. You don’t have to hide inside of your helmet any longer. Remember to use this brush, it suits your hair type. And use some of this every now and then.” He gave her the small spray bottle . “I never leave the ship without it. Put it in whenever things get a little messy, just a tiny bit”
Phasma smiled at her reflection. A tear rolled down her che-OW, PHASMA STOP IT
A lesser captain would have teared up, but not Phasma. IS THAT BETTER HUH?
(But perhaps her eyes did get a little misty) She stood up and hugged Kylo, he was surprised but also touched. It was a rare show of affection from anyone in the ranks of the first order.
“I love it” she said quietly. “Thank you, if there is every something you need, ask me. But don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He walked out, door closing behind her.
Kylo smiled. It was nice to help people through this particular struggle -not that he was nice. Kylo was not nice. Not nice, you hear? NOT nice. He was a ruthless leader, a dark side prodigy, he just also happened to be a gifted stylist. He turned to the mirror and adjusted a lock of black hair. Black like his soul. Yes.
“A job well done Ren,” he told himself. “Grandfather would really be proud. Truly, a fierce and noble battle. And, as expected, an astounding victory.”
He turned out the light in the wash room, heading for a well earned rest. He deserved it.
So goes the story of how I, Kylo Ren the Terrible, apprentice of the Supreme leader, maker of orphans, fought a great war against the forces of helmet hair and came out on top. Honorably stooping down, taking time out of my busy schedule to help a poor, poor, pitiful fellow official. No, I did not squeal like a little child on Christmas because of excitement. And there was no skipping involved. It is a noble pursuit, hair care. I again was a great hero, about which songs will be sung, and great poems written, and hey stop giggling in the corner Phasma I'm not the one that has dandruff OUCH. In short I again saved the day and that's totally how it happened and I’ll kill you if you disagree.
Kisses!
P.S. Phasma made me write that last part. Dark lords do not give kisses.