He knew Hux didn't and ignored the 'I see' all together as the bantha fodder it was, taking a slow, deep breath and feeling everything down his side ache in complaint. They said it would take time for the bones themselves to heal up and they might never be quite right again, the scar would be an ugly one even with everything they had done to keep it from being so. He had listened, then snarled for them to get out. He didn't want or need their pity. Scars were that of a battle fought and survived; any warrior would, and should, carry them. Yet he had to look upon his own face and know how badly the damage there had been done.

"Mm." A flat sound, watching the General for a long moment before looking away. "He may call us apart or separately. Privacy or humiliation." The snort that followed said much because he knew it had an almost equal chance to be both as much as either.