Phasma sat down next to him, not bothering about the dirt. She'd been in worse conditions than this, a little dirt and dust hardly bothered her. Things washed, polished, came clean again. She angled herself towards him and tucked her feet neatly under the bench - perhaps not the way she would have sat in her armor, but the way she would sit in a skirt, for certain. "As I understand it, the Emperor left very specific instructions for his successors should the Empire fall and those instructions brought the elder Hux, among others, to the Unknown Regions. The yacht just happened to be their transportation there."
She gave him a nonchalant shrug, as though it was nothing more important or weighty than that, and perhaps that really was all the more there was to it, then leaned against the back of the bench to listen to him in turn. She did get the feeling that he was leaving out a few things, glazing over details that he might not have wanted to share. Those were the ones that interested her. What hid between the lines? But it was easy enough just to listen to him and watch him, her elbow on the back of the bench and her chin resting casually in her hand. Somehow she looked far younger than she must have been like that. Nearly thirty years of training, she'd said. But then, they did start stormtroopers young, and her words could be interpreted in several different ways. That had been her intent.
"No," she said, "not very dissimilar at all. Though with machines and people, it's knowing how to build them up - and I do a bit of that as well - but my primary focus has always been how to deconstruct them. I've always been fascinated with how to break people's minds and put them back together the way I want them to be. I've had varying successes, but my routine conditioning program has an astounding success rate. I've had one recent failure, I'll admit, but we learn more from our failures than we ever do from our successes, so it's just as valuable to me to study what went wrong with that one."