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Chapter Text

Location: Outer Rim, Panna Prime

Sector: Cronese Mandate

System: Panna (359, 256)

Position: 15, 16

----

         Panna Prime was a small, red moon. The surface was a gelid ocean of viscous mud, which gave the orbiting rock its brightly hued distinction. As their ships ventured closer towards the “ground”, Din noted something writhing among the mud, lurking below like veins underneath skin. 

He observed in slight surprise, as Serpents and Cnidarians of various sizes arose from the ooze to feast on discarded ships, scraps, and other miscellaneous objects that had somehow found their way into the ocean. They grappled pieces of solid steel with long, ballistic tongues and crushed them down between strong, yet flat teeth as if the metallic material had the durability of dry leaves. 

Their vacant gazes followed the newcomers' space vessels, undaunted and nonplussed. It didn’t seem like they ate anything organic, but Din was mindful to keep his shiny beacon a good distance away from the metallivores. And here Din thought frogs were the biggest nuisance he had to worry about.

In the lap of the Mandalorian, Grogu rose from his seat, pressing tiny claws upon the glass encasing them. He gawked at all of the vast expansion of life that slithered within the depths of burgundy waves with soft trills. The Child bounced on his toes, ears sticking straight up, easily impressed as any kid would be.

The bounty hunter was not as impressed. He raised a skeptical eyebrow at this red puddle of sludge and glanced at his radar, searching for any signs of docking ports within the area as he and the Jedi rounded the moon. Nothing registered for klicks and klicks. Din turned on his comlink, shifting the N-1 just a bit closer to the Jedi’s X-Wing, hailing him.

“Where exactly have you taken us, Skywalker?” he exhaled gruffly.

The transmitter crackled, followed by a small breath of amusement. “I know it doesn’t look like much,” Skywalker stated knowingly, “But, Panna Prime is the best outpost in the entire Outer Rim.”

“Will I be quoting you on that?”

There was another puff of laughter before the line went quiet. Clearly this was a ‘see for yourself’ type of situation. Din had strong doubts, but otherwise kept his grievances to himself, conceding in following Skywalker’s lead.

After traveling half a klick more, the Mandalorian finally spotted their destination in the distance. What looked to be a giant, translucent flower bud was perfectly poised upon the horizon. Panna’s one and only port, living quarters, and international trading dock. 

As they got closer, Din observed that it was alight from the inside with bright neons of pinks, blues, and greens that could be seen in spite of it being daytime. The flotation bubble’s foundation was surrounded by large garbage chutes, exhaust vents, and aqueducts that disposed of the city’s massive amounts of waste into the mud sea below. The scalien inhabitants circled the perimeter, scavenging through the trash in eager pursuit of a hearty meal.

“You can’t be serious.” Din muttered under his breath, almost convinced the Jedi could hear him without the comlink.

Before he could call rancor osik over this literal garbage barge, his transmitter clicked to life once more over a public, shared channel. Din stiffened instantly, not that he should be worried, but who knows if Republic or Imperial occupation was residing among the moon. Din was a notorious hunter, after all. The chances of a guild operating here, versus bounty hunting being all but banned seemed like a fifty-fifty probability. 

Either way, he got nervous around hailing calls, no thanks to past encounters with Republic officials.  

“This is Luke Skywalker of X-Wing AA-589, registration number 2454916. Requesting Indrexu Docking Bay 78, to land.”

There was a moment of silence before someone with a Rodian dialectic and accent spoke up through the public channel. “Our database doesn’t recognize this registration number. It says that your commission was— resigned, resigned five years ago, Commander Skywalker.” They responded with a slight note of suspicion.

Din kept his shoulders tense, ready for a fight or a shoot-out. However, Skywalker’s calm voice had a certain tone that he had yet to hear before. Soft, soothing almost, and condescending to a degree. It didn’t put Din at ease exactly, but his worries lessened.

“The database is wrong, your registration number is still within clearance.”

A pause, then suddenly, the Rhodian responded, less impassioned and more droid like in tone as they repeated the Jedi’s words. 

“The database is wrong, wrong— your registration number is still within clearance.”

“Wonderful!” Skywalker stated, suddenly more chipper. “I’ll be on my way.

“Copy, copy— X-Wing. We’re also picking up another tailing ship?”

“Yes, he’s with me.”

“Registration number, please— please?”

This time Din took a moment to let his mind think about the present. Because what had happened was beyond his understanding. That wasn’t an intimidation tactic, not one that he could recognize anyway. It threw him out of his element that he nearly forgot that his ship was off the record. 

       “Ah—“ He began as an unconscious response. However, The Jedi jumped in with that same insistence from before.

“You don’t need to know the registration number.”

“… I don’t need to know— don’t need to know the registration number.”

“You’re all clear. Proceed to land.”

“You’re all clear. Proceed to land. Proceed to land.“

The channel clicked off, in its place, a pondered filled silence. Din’s brows furrowed, grateful for Skywalker’s quick thinking. Though, something didn’t quite sit right inside his stomach. He looked down at Grogu, searching for any indication that the Child understood what had happened.

The only thing he got in return was a pointed gaze and an impatient snort.

“Very helpful.” Din remarked dryly. 

“Wanna tell me what that was?” he asked Skywalker once he was sure that their communications were private.

“Something you should pray Grogu doesn’t succeed in using on you.” The Jedi’s cadence suggested playfulness, like an inside joke that Din was clearly not in on. A type of sorcery then?

Each day Din began to understand just how formidable a Jedi could actually be, or maybe it was just Skywalker who was this powerful. Thunder echoed inside his head at the recognition.

And with a soft tilt of his head to the left, he gazed out of the cockpit towards the small little outpost, letting his thoughts and gut instincts drift through him. 

‘Great.’ Din recounted to himself. ‘Stuck on a floating city for who knows how long. Perfect.’

———————   

        It felt good to stretch his limbs again. Luke had practically hopped off the ladder of his X-Wing, a jubilant bounce in his step. Nothing like a brush with asteroids to get the blood pumping!

With all of this excess energy, he felt more lively than ever. He could even make the argument that being on a populated moon, surrounded by other people, made him feel more aware of himself and his surroundings. The Force always seemed its brightest when it was encompassing all those who inhabited its galaxy. Not to say that the Force was absent in Ossus’ serene nature, but it was.. stagnant, to put it in polite terms.

No, there was nothing like a crowded, bustling city. Surprises and spontaneity awaited around every corner! Speaking of spontaneity… 

“Stay with the ship, Artoo,” he called out, while slinging his duffle pack over his shoulder, his pilot helmet balanced on his hip.

The little droid swiveled its domed head towards its human, and then towards the docking crew that were carrying hoses, cables, and other supplies to tend to the new occupants. R2 made a few soft noises, shifting in its port.

“There’s enough battery reserve in the ship for you to charge.” Luke replied, matter of fact. R2 only beeped again, tone raising an octave to imply insistence.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

The astromech whistle, fussing and getting more restless in its port. Its photoreceptor swiveled around, a way to gesture at the crew that surrounded the ships. It focused back on Luke, buzzing harshly.

Luke raised an eyebrow at the attitude, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I need you to run a full diagnostic,” he answered easily. He obtained another series of harsh buzzes and warbles that made him wince at the unpleasant sounds. Luke’s free hand raised, palm facing outward in a pacifying manner, attempting to calm the astromech’s foul mood. He kept his tone diplomatic and reasonable (due in part by Leia’s guidance) while choosing his words carefully. R2 offended rather easily after all.

“I think her acceleration compensator might be shot and the electromagnetic gyroscope hit a hiccup somewhere. Also, I think the primary sensor is jammed.”

R2 made a sound that one could argue was a snort or huff before berating the blond for his previous ventures in space. Because clearly, that was the human’s problem and he should be the one to fix his own messes.

“It was not because of my flying.” Luke insisted stubbornly and scoffed right back. Rather than get into another argument with the droid, the Jedi decided to save himself a piece of mind if he just abandoned the topic. “Just stay with the ship.” He (more or less) suggested this time, knowing better than to command R2. That would only make the rebellious troublemaker more inclined to start something.

Luke began walking away, ignoring R2’s beeps of protest. “And no wandering off this time!”

While all this was unfolding, Mando had already unstrapped himself and Grogu from the N-1, awaiting their companion by the docking bay’s entrance. They had been watching as passive observers while Luke and R2 had a mini altercation. Once in earshot, Mando inclined his head to the side in a manner that Luke picked up on as pondering. Luke raised an eyebrow, prompting the Mandalorian to speak his thoughts, if he desired to.

“I can’t believe you talk to that droid like it’s a person,” he stated, rather simply.

Luke’s brows both raised, surprised and a little amused. He grinned slowly and started to make his way over towards the rental cargo hold. There were complimentary drom storage lockers that Luke would be using for his personal items, at least until they could find a safe hotel for the night. Judging by Mando’s empty hands, save for Grogu, it looked as if this would be something only Luke would be using.

“He is, just not biologically.” Luke started with the same simplicity, as he began to unstrap the ejection harnesses and the life-support box on his flak vest in order to remove the pilot fatigue.

“Droids don’t have feelings.”

“You've never personally hung out with a droid for more than a day, have you?”

“Two days.”

The younger man only made a noncommittal hum. Frankly, he didn’t believe a word of that, but it was hard to ignore the signs that there was an underlying tension between Mando and R2 that Luke hadn’t picked up on until now. Most people took a bit of time to warm up to R2’s personality, but now that the topic was brought up… Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the astromech, not personally anyways. “What is it with you and droids anyways?” He decided to ask while fully unzipping his flight suit.

There was a pause, causing both the Jedi and student to look towards the shelled man expectantly. Mando rolled his shoulders, visibly uncomfortable. Luke didn’t need his Force Insight to tell him that there was pain or fear there. So, he decided not to press. Pursing his lips, Luke turned back towards his duffle bag and fished out a yellow jacket, a hand me down from Han that Luke had a hard time parting with. 

“Well, you won’t be happy to hear that I helped start a droid revolt in The Deep,” he stated casually while slipping it on, trying to ignore that even after growing three inches taller, the sleeves were still slightly bigger on him.

“Somehow, hearing you say that doesn’t surprise me.”


The dry delivery alone was enough to make Luke snort while reaching for his belt and thigh holster. 

In the deeper pockets of his duffel bag, Luke carried a mini armory of sorts. A necessary backup in case his lightsaber was damaged or missing— which had happened one too many times. 

With careful fastidiousness, he recovered his DL-44 blaster, eyeing it with careful scrutiny. The blast delivery circuits were always quick to burn out after exertion (one of the reasons why he seldom used it now) and the power pack release lever had some carbon scorching. He’d have to get that cleaned later. Oh, was the cooling vent filtered out, or did it have dust clogged inside—

“You’re carrying a blaster?”

Luke startled out of his thoughts, looking like a griff caught in high beams. It took a second of staring completely agape at Mando, the pistol, then back to Mando again. 

“Yup.”

“You’re not in your Jedi robes either.”

The blond blinked, more surprised that the bounty hunter had just now noticed that fairly obvious detail. For some reason it only caused Luke to grin.

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“... What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not bound to what I wear.”

Luke elaborated with a tilt of his chin at Mando’s appearance, blue eyes doing a once over of his shiny beskargam. 

“You attract attention. But it’s not as if you’re out of place. A Jedi cloak on the other hand… that would definitely look out of place. And we’re better off without the attention.”

Jedi might be an uncommon encounter in these regions, the Empire might be dissolved in certain areas, but if Luke’s confrontation with a Moff and Grogu’s involvement was any indicator of a conflict— then Luke wanted to remain as unrecognizable as possible. 

There was a real chance of danger if he donned his robes. That was a chance he wasn’t willing to take, not here on this moon. 

Mando seemed to consider the explanation, leveled his visor towards Grogu, then the ground as he rolled his shoulders. 

“Can’t argue with that.”

———

        A poor man’s Coruscant. That is how Din would describe the moon’s outpost. No wonder he hadn’t been able to pick it up on the scanners sooner, this place was remote as well as diminutive. Not to mention, a touch below advanced. 

Everywhere he looked, Din observed crowded streets, occupied by stylish, modern stores and shops made of plasteel and polished glass with large windows for various displays. The levels of buildings were each separated by tinted transparisteel and permacrete floors that acted as a divider between each tier. Turbolifts and standard lift tubes stood tall and proud like the trees of the moon Endor in each corner.

The technology and architectural aesthetics for the suburban areas (unlike the metropolis) were for function over beauty.

The housing units and apartments were stacked upon each other like crates in a storage cargo hold, strung together with tightly woven steel cables. Others were patched with plated steel and bolted paneling, an afterthought in a maze of free enterprise. 


The entire Panna outpost appeared to be just a centimeter away from the alcoves that housed (what casual citizens would call) lower society.

Smells from the established eateries came from a variety of restaurants and bazaars that occupied certain thoroughfares perfumed the air, making the small green child wriggle against Din’s improvised fabric sling. It almost made Din forget that the city was hovering above its own ocean of waste.

Neon signs flashed overhead, in spite of it being daytime. Overbearingly so. The signs advertised in languages that Din recognized and others that looked far more alien than he was accustomed to. He was surprised that anyone could navigate this place effectively, since it didn’t operate like Corusants’ grid system and segregated immigrant districts. 

The hunter was just about to question how to traverse the metropolis when he was snagged aside by an unanticipated, strong tug. The Jedi shepherded him aside against an alleyway, his expression pensive.

He glanced to see what the trouble was, his body straightening on instinct. Out of the corner of his eye were two patrolling stormtroopers. With careful militant movements, they walked along the street, sweeping their gaze over the citizens half-heartedly. The Child against his chest snorted in disapproval, ears flattening.

Din unconsciously stroked the tip of his ward’s ear in an attempt to pacify his worries and snapped his attention back to Skywalker. “I thought you said this place was safe,” he accused mildly.

It took two beats of rounded eyes blinking up at him before the Jedi replied, rather surprised. “Did I say that?” 

Din, taken aback, searched his memory for what the young man had said when advocating for this red moon. The exact verbiage used— that he recalled —didn’t include ‘safe’. Din shrank in on himself, heat rising to his cheeks, constantly thankful for the protection of his helmet.

He drifted his head to the side, refusing to answer with anything less than an unamused scoff, refusing to acknowledge the Jedi’s knowing smirk. Instead he gruffly countered, “Why didn’t you say the city was under Imperial occupation?”

“I’d hardly call a handful of stormtroopers an occupation.”

The hunter just stared pointedly. 

Skywalker sighed, exasperated, running his (still) gloved hand through his hair. “ Okay, so it’s under Imperial command. But, really, it won’t be that hard to blend in,” Skywalker stated, while they were hidden away, surrounded by dark plaster with only a baby between them. The irony wasn’t lost on Din.

“The Moff may be gone, but I’m not risking the kid again,” Din affirmed, his boldness even surprised himself.

In a simultaneous action, both sorcerers glanced up at the dark T-visor, expressions falling. Grogu most likely thought he would be taken away without eating something first and Luke…

Well, Din couldn’t quite place why he was so crestfallen. He acted as if his home world had been insulted, but Din was fairly confident that the blond had mentioned growing up on a desert planet. 

“Do you want to leave?” Luke asked, almost too softly for the suggestion to sit right with Din. The image of downcast eyes with the barest indication of tears in pale eyes. Shame gracing his features with a disheartened slump of narrowed shoulders... Dank Farrik.

The hunter also had to consider what was really chipping away at him. It wasn’t as if the both of them weren’t prepared, well-armed, and unable to defend themselves. However, that lingering doubt before they had left still plagued his mind. Something was off, but what was off had yet to surface. Din felt like a fool for jumping at shadows. So, he relented with a quiet sigh.

“No. Sorry.” His voice clipped. “I don’t… like surprises.” Was all he could offer.

Skywalker considered him for a moment, lips pursed in thought. He nodded shortly after, assured of something. 

“I believe there is a syndicate that operates here. I have credits, but you mentioned needing to work. It would benefit us, as a traveling company, for transactions to not be as easily traceable between us. If you can’t find fast work, we can go with whatever we can scrounge. Sound fair?”

Amicable and abnormally authoritative. Abnormal, in the sense that Luke’s confidence wasn’t a front or a mask that he was vehemently insistent on. It was natural and the hunter felt a fleck of ease. “Fair.” Din agreed.

There was little more than a contented pause and the two slipped out of their hiding place and into crowded streets. Skywalker was back to easy smiles and traversing the sea of bipedal humanoids with ease. Yet, in spite of practiced movements, the young man certainly acted like an off-world tourist.

His head rotated from side to side like a Covor, eyes wide and filled with intrigue. Din would’ve found it amusing if he hadn’t seen the Child do that very same thing.

That sliver of jealousy chipped at his mood, trying to push the feelings down and berating, ‘A lesser man would feel this way.’

“Oh, Drixni Drug Store! Haven’t been there in a while.” Luke’s exclamation startled Din from his brooding, eyes seeking out said establishment on reflex.

It was a smaller emporium than the other hypermarkets, but sleek and bright nonetheless. Din paused as familiar words in aurebesh caught his eye. 

“ Sleep Antidote ”

His head tilted to the side, bemused, just staring at the words and what the advertisement offered.

“See something, Mando?” Luke called, suddenly a lot further ahead than before, walking back to his side with quick steps.

“… What kind of an idiot would let himself be affected by a subpar sleeping virus?”

The sleeping virus could only be counteracted in two ways if it was potent enough. One, by hanging the victim upside down to keep blood flowing to the brain. The aftermath was painful for the victim and it was difficult to keep a rupture from happening. The second, was this antidote, apparently. 

In his bounty hunting profession, Din had never encountered anyone being affected by the virus for more than a few minutes. Nothing severe enough to cause the need for an injection.

Out of the corner of his visor, he noted the way Skywalker’s body seemed to stiffen and the tips of his ears colored. “Yeah…” He agreed noncommittal, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Din had a feeling that Luke just might be that idiot. The bitter feeling in his chest alleviated again, unable to stop himself from smirking, considering this a small, petty victory.

Against his shar’tas, there was a stirring. Din glanced down to witness Grogu bouncing around in his cloth bundle, fussing and making soft little sounds to get his guardians’ collective attention. 

“Oh, you’re hungry aren’t you.” Luke remarked— no, cooed with an attentiveness that should’ve raised Din’s blood pressure like before. Whether it was just emotional fatigue from the trip or fighting within himself, Din instead decided to accept the warmth.

He smiled secretively, rubbing Grogu’s small, wrinkled head in a way that made his ears flop. The toddler squirmed and snorted in protest to the treatment. “We’ll find something, I promise.” Din remarked, matching the Jedi’s tenderness.

        Panna Prime had no shortage of local eateries that ranged from bars, food stands, restaurants, and small curio shops. There was an overwhelming amount of variety to choose from, so with a shared shrug from both Jedi and Bounty Hunter, they allowed Grogu to lead the way. 

The little one’s nose led them to the Zyris Moon, a cantina like any other Din had seen in the outer rim. Dim lighting, aged paneling with equally outdated cutlery, shady individuals clinging to the walled booths to make a quick escape if necessary. The difference that Zyris had to offer happened to be an open flame stove that used dazzling purple and blue fire to cook full slabs of meat on a spit next to the bar. Grogu’s large eyes were fixated on the juices that dripped from a chunk of reptilian flesh, nearly drooling from the smell alone.

A fine way to settle the option. Din nodded to the bartender, an Arpor-Lan who, upon seeing the gleam of his beskar, nodded over towards a booth, rather stiff and quick. Already the alien was sweating around the eyes and their horned jaw tensed.

Another reason, if ever, to renew his vow to the creed. Rather than just a symbol of honor, Din’s armor also served as an intimidation factor, it might paint a hefty target on his back, but such was the price of said honor. He still didn’t feel very reputable using his status the way he was now, even if the vast majority of the galaxy didn’t understand the significance. Din was an imposter and was too much of a coward to stop wearing his helm, as it might as well be empty inside.

Skywalker must have sensed a shift in Din’s demeanor, giving him a comforting smile. Once again, what should have been assuring only made the hunter uncomfortable and on the defensive. His physical self had already been compromised, he didn’t need his feelings exposed as well. Especially when said grievance was standing right by his side.

So, Din simply walled himself off to this… Force, making their way over towards an inner booth. There was no need for window crawling, not yet anyway, and the ex-Mandalorian doubted he was nimble enough to pull off a stunt like that anyhow.

The incognito Jedi slipped smoothly into the seat adjacent to him while Din took Grogu out of his sling and sat the little creature onto the seat beside him. It was lucky that the table surface was low enough that the kid could reach for utensils.

Din did a slow scan of the room, the inhabitants, and any other possible exit strategies. A force of habit really, but one could never be too careful.

“Don’t worry,” Skywalker said suddenly, spinning a lone fork in between his slim fingers, like it was something to do. “I don’t sense anything or anyone who’d openly hurt us,” he promised.

“Open attacks are not my concern,” Din countered, but relaxed just enough to call out towards one of the stewards. 

“Pardon me, vendor.” He acknowledged with a tilt of his visor, purposefully ignoring the intrigued grin that spread over the Jedi’s lip. Their server was an Evocii, who, judging by the puzzled expression on her brow and the question that followed, didn’t understand Basic.

“Uba Naga Je?”

“Tagwa,” Din affirmed with another canter of his helm, then nodded to his green companion. “Go ahead, kid.”

The little alien sniffed, assessing the server carefully with narrowed eyes, and looked down at the holoboard display that was fused into the table. He surveyed the images carefully before tapping a clawed hand over something that looked promising.

Din leaned over to read the menu item and his lip twitched, threatening a frown. Still, he wasn’t going to deny his ward, even if it didn’t look all that appealing to him personally. Not like eating was a normal option for him regardless.

“Gliideos Llimp’iyuq. Che Ta Peedunkee.”
 

 “Eeua!” The child squealed in urgency, then proceeded to tap on Din’s wrist to get his attention. 

Din huffed a gentle reminder for Grogu to mind his manners under his breath.

However, it wasn’t a guarantee if the Child was forming a language all his own or if he could still only produce sounds. Either way, the tot was clearly not finished with his selection. Therefore, the hunter couldn’t fault the Child too much on his behavior, Din wouldn’t have understood otherwise. A hidden smile laid behind Din’s visor, if only for the kid’s enthusiasm.

Grogu pointed at another selection but Din could gather a guess that it wasn’t the full Tipyip meal he was seeking and shifted back to the rawboned Evocii, stiffly adding, “Phawaq Uuwan.”

A considerable pause and he lifted his chin towards the blond. “Do you want me to translate for you?” Din offered. 

Luke held his own chin within a palm, elbow resting on the table. He glanced at the older man, brows slightly furrowed as if he didn’t understand what had just been asked. A slow blink followed and his parted lips turned to a smirk, winking at him like a private joke had been shared. Well, Din didn’t get it. That was, until Luke turned to face the Evocii with an enlivened hum and started speaking.

“Achuta, Ma Pateesa. Kava Tuta Uba Kay Tuta?”

His dialect must’ve also caught the server off guard because she stammered with the following answer.

“A-Allin Gractii.”

Din wouldn’t call himself an expert in Huttese, but he had never heard anyone speak that slug language as eloquently before. There were certain consonants, words, and verbs that just didn’t exist, ‘please’ being a prime example. As no one from Nal Hutta ever asked for anything.

But Luke was speaking with proper phrasing all the same and was well understood.

Another impossibility made possible.

“Jee’qam Ree Kayfoundo, Ama’eesa Koose Je Ta Sleem’wa Pas Foo Flootah Yuraq Kurukuna An Saals. Uba Hapiy Publiko Creedo Mo D'emperiolo?”

Another pause, this time, it wasn’t in awe. It was confusion. Luke was speaking correctly, wasn’t he? Din saw that the Evocii’s eyes, painted darkly around the rims, and usually were on the smaller side, became incredibly wide. Scrutinizing the blond over to make absolutely sure the youth wasn’t a Hutt in disguise. Din couldn’t say he blamed the server.

“K-K-Kanki Uba Seguro?”

“Tagwa.” Skywalker smiled without effort.

“Haku Saals?”

“Chadian, Ama’eesa.”

Another slow blink from the server and a half step backward before uttering a quick, affirming, “Tagwa.” And left while shaking her head in disbelief.

“Mee Jewz Ku, Pateesa!” Skywalker called after her, with the audacity to even wave farewell. Din still couldn’t tell if that was a knowing tease or if the Jedi was indeed earnest in his reply. 

Now with his emotions uncertain, Din looked after the young man for a moment, staring, assessing, his thoughts forming so many questions but couldn’t for the life of him choose one to lead with as the Jedi was back to twirling silverware around his fingers. Nimble, skilled, wizard. 

The images didn’t add up. 

A man cladded in all black, striding down bleak hallways almost as though he were floating, not a single hair out of place as he cut through twenty or more dark troopers. Perfectly poised and undaunted, making the whole ordeal look criminally effortless.

In the meantime, a single trooper nearly gave the Mandalorian a concussion.

A distraught man with tears misting behind his thicker lashes, devastated that he had upset a child and begged for forgiveness. Shaken, on his knees with humility and weighed down with penance.

Din himself had pleaded for atonement, however, he couldn’t see himself begging in such a manner, told it was rather unbecoming for such a misdemeanor. Begging in general wasn’t tasteful for a warrior.

A man caught in a torrential downpour, his once dry and pristine appearance becoming bone-soaked, black fatigues hanging off of narrow shoulders loosely and rain stained bangs fell over his steady eyes. Expression statuesque and unreadable even as arcs of green light flash behind his silhouette. Powerful, steady, untouchable.

The armor made Din feel powerful, unreachable to any living thing in a stark universe. In his mind, he was painfully aware of just how vulnerable he was and could be, a coward, hiding behind a self imposed shield that weighed his conscience with shame.  

And now this. A man in a bright yellow jacket, fiddling with this and that, a bright smile attached to a youthful face and an aloof aura surrounding him. His pale eyes wide and vacant, full of light, full of hope. Speaking so casually and friendly as if he was a regular local of some backwater world or a person fresh off their first commercial hyperlane flight. 

The hunter’s amygdala was triggered once again. Itching with rapid fire thoughts that reminded him of gun fire and filled his nose with the scent of scorched bodies. Even against his better judgment, his feelings were undetermined. Undetermined if he should trust this person or shoot him dead right now, between the eyes. Despite all of the evidence that suggested that Luke hadn’t given him any reason for doing so.

“Problem?” 

The Jedi’s voice cut clear through the cacophonous wall of disagreements and reasonings. Din barely had to tilt his head up to show he was listening, hoping that nothing in his body language had betrayed him.

“I just...” Din began slowly, “Didn’t expect a Jedi to be fluent in such a vulgar language like Huttese. Unless, it’s required of you... being peacekeepers of the galaxy and all.”

That earned an amused puff of air from the blue eyed man, shrugging half-heartedly. 

“Well, when you grow up in Hutt territory, it’s difficult to not pick up on a few words here and there. It also helped to have a boss that was bilingual in all sorts of alien languages.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

“Tatooine,” Skywalker stated, only to raise an eyebrow when a profound silence passed over the table. “What...?” The Jedi asked cautiously. 

Once again, Din was thrown for a loop, his shoulders stiff and now his head inclined slightly to the left in a questioning gesture. It made sense, that— that shockingly made sense. But, it also didn’t. Giving Luke another quick once over, really making an effort to take a look at his features, Din could see it. There definitely were the telltale signs of faded tan lines on his skin, calluses on his left hand from tinkering with spare parts lying around ankle deep in sand, and a certain backworld way he asked about information, the inflection on Tætu'in instead of Taˈto͞o’in as the locals use it. 

Half of this full fledged puzzle piece was complete, even so— there were smaller, oddly shaped pieces that just weren’t matching up. “How are you not dead?” The hunter asked, disbelief bared and present.

“Huh? Why— what is it?”

“You’re– you seem like the type who would make trouble for themselves by being… decent. Tatooine’s crawling with Bounty Hunters and other unsightly backstabbers. Those people— that planet isn’t known for being decent.” 

“What does that make you, then?”

His pale blue eyes held Din in place, pointed, much like his question. Din found himself unable to find an answer that felt appropriate to reply with. 

What did that make him? What was he now without his creed? Din never thought to think inwardly about his moral code. He was a man of necessity, violence, and honor. He was a hunter, he was prey. However, those notions didn’t feel correct anymore.

Skywalker’s lips parted, a crease formed in between his brows. There was a question on his lips, Din knew already, and the Jedi was about to ask him. Whatever he was going to say would forever be lost to Din, as Skywalker was interrupted by their server returning with two trays perched in both hands. One for their food, the other for water, since drinks had not been specified.

The Evoiic placed down the food, auburn hair cascading over a shoulder as she did so, and the waters while Luke thanked her. Din however, kept his eyes on what exactly constituted “food.” What was placed in front of the Jedi was anything but and he stared and continued to stare for what felt like hours, trying to comprehend how on earth a human could stomach the menu items. He watched as Luke scooped up a neon green orb with a spoon and blew on it in order to cool his helping. His demeanor was so nonchalant, so casual that Din couldn’t keep his protest at bay, masking it in the form of a question.

“What…?”

Luke paused, blinking slowly at the hunter, then at the orb in his spoon. Luckily or unfortunately, Skywalker seemed aware of what exactly he was about to put in his mouth and smiled coyly. “I know,” he murmured.“But— they were introduced to Tatooine, a planet void of moisture, as a delicacy of Nal Hutta.” He shrugged. “I sure liked ‘em.”

There were so few rules that Din had of his own. One of the most persistent rules was fairly simple and bordered on practical common sense. 

You don’t eat things that glow and you don’t eat strange bugs.

Yet, here was his foundling, scarfing down blue glowing noodles with runny egg on top. While the Jedi Master loudly slurped pulsating, green, oozing slime pods. With a side of white, plump maggots the size of his fist, and were still wriggling. Blue translucent sauce was drizzled all over the orbs. A sauce that was most definitely not supposed to go on top of… that. 

The Mandalorian could understand the little one’s exotic appetite, being of an unknown species— even so, the things Jedi Skywalker did to food should be considered a galactic war crime.

Luke hummed in satisfaction as he slurped in the first, wet bite of his meal. A subtle shudder ran through Din’s spine as he did so, continuing to wolf down the green orbs and grubs like he hadn’t eaten in months. “They’re super tender.” Skywalker declared, as if that was something worth acknowledging. “The fluid sack chambers really hold in moisture, I can feel them bursting on my tongue when I bite into it.”

His mouth was still full too.

Din was very thankful for his helmet, hiding his absolute disgust, unable to look away in sheer bafflement. His stomach churned as Luke swallowed another large helping, grinning with satisfaction.

He picked up a particularly fat worm and held it just a few inches from Grogu, who looked up from his food and sniffed at the offering curiously. “It’s okay, the skin is very crispy. I think you’d like it.” Luke assured the Child kindly.

Grogu sniffed it once more before biting down, the sound of sharp teeth piercing skin was similar to biting into a jogan fruit. It made Din’s skin crawl. The foundling didn’t seem to mind and actually grinned with satisfaction, quickly nabbing the piece of worm and devouring it whole. Luke’s only response was to chuckle.

Surely, Luke had to be doing this on purpose. Just to mess with him. That’s what Jedi do. Right?

Luke took a moment from his chewing, glancing back and forth between Din and the spot in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the beskar covered man. “Aren’t you going to have something?” He asked, cheeks still stuffed.

Din, if not for his general abhorrence, would’ve found the invitation amusing. Instead he cocked head to the side, giving Skywalker a pointed sort of stare. As if he could see it.

It was a successful attempt as the telltale evidence of a light pink hue colored the Jedi’s face. Skywalker’s rounded eyes widened as the reasoning came back to him, nearly choking on his… “meal.”

“Oh! I’m— I’m so sorry, I keep forgetting that you can’t...”

“It’s fine.” Din assured him.

Truthfully, even if he could eat in front of them, Din doubted he would’ve had much of an appetite to indulge.

——

        Once plates were cleared, the queasiness of the hunter’s stomach began to subside, but the appetite of the little green alien was voracious as ever. Din wondered offhandedly if the Child’s anatomy involved more than one stomach to be able to hold that much food. With a fond sigh, Din ordered a dessert for Grogu, tepasi taffy, unnaturally blue like the noodles. But Din was a lot more lenient when it came to candies.

        “Uba Im’paas Huu’taps Hapi?” Evocii asked politely, her small eyes shifting over to the blond nervously. 

Luke hummed in consideration and pursued through the display board, thankfully, through the drinks menu this time. And both Din and their nimble hostess’ shoulders went lax in shared relief. 

He halted and squinted at the option skeptically, then a good natured chuckle left his lips. “Ha, that’s a laugh.” Luke remarked fondly to himself and addressed the server directly. “Kavaa Chay Ta Dagobie Slugwa?” He asked cheerfully.

Did Din even want to know?

The slender girl nodded and left promptly, making the slightest hint of a grimace and Din was already bracing himself. He turned his head while swallowing dryly. “What was funny?” 

“Oh, that? The drink is named after a planet I’ve been to. Dagobah, it was an unmarked location when I had first searched for it. Turns out, I just needed to look at a cocktail menu.”

It was kind of humorous in that context. He supposed. Then again, sometimes bounty tips were revealed in the same vein of inane or contrived.

The server came back quickly, offering a small basket of the taffy which Grogu reached for and snatched with eager claws, ears perked up straight and cooing thanks with delight. 

She also presented a tall glass of something that, once again, was glowing green. It was trailing mist from the rim and there looked to be tiny brown egg-shaped pearls swirling at the base of the glass. Din preemptively grimaced. The carbonation (or the liquid was just highly potent with methane) made the green concoction bubble and billow just barely inside its glass container.

The Jedi gave the drink a once over with an assessing expression, really considering drinking that sludge. Then, he shrugged and took the stem of the glass and gave the supposed cocktail a hearty sip that only a desert inhabitant could pull off. At least he made his taste testing mercifully brief this time.

“Huh.” The young man mused after a mindful pause, tongue tip scarcely lapping at his lower lip. “It’s not bad actually.”

Din wasn’t putting much stock into that review. He shrugged in response, just to be polite. 

His companion grinned a little knowingly this time, swirling the half empty green liquid around and tipped the brim in the armored man’s direction. Whatever those brown orbs were, slowly circled with the movement. “You won’t be joining me in a drink, will you?” Luke, now fully aware of himself, was poking fun.

It was… sort of strange how the Jedi had this way of recovering from awkward situations with humor, at his own expense no less. Normally, Din interpreted such tactics to be desperate or tragically insecure in an (occasional) ally.

More often than not, Din found himself doubling down on their diffidence, just to express disdain. Somehow, (in something of another miracle) Luke kept making the hunter’s biggest pet peeves about people, endearing. Or maybe he was just used to the blond’s behavior by now. Yes, that must be.

“Nope.” Din answered flatly. The response made Skywalker’s dimples appear with how hard he was grinning.

Eventually he set the drink down and Grogu took the opportunity to snatch it across the table. It must’ve been the orbs that had caused the Child’s curiosity to get the better of his self control. What he had learned was that being subtle wasn’t going to fool either of his guardians. He had to be quick and Din almost commended his ward for it, because he couldn’t have reacted fast enough in spite of his honed skills.

Skywalker continued to outclass him in that respect, not needing to do much, and simply plucked the tall glass of the green concoction—  dubious origins noted —from the air with his finger tips. He pulled it back towards himself, the corners of his lips upturned, possibly proud or charmed as Din was.

“No, little one, this particular drink isn’t suitable for your age,” he chided gently.

Grogu’s ears folded back and slapped his tiny clawed hands against the table with soft whines of protest. Whipping his head around with squinting dark eyes, the Child looked to Din for backup, because how dare he be denied food?

Din gave him a patient and slow look before simply shrugging. “Maybe in another century, kid.” Chuckling lightly and ruffling Grogu’s head when he got another bratty little whine in return.

Luke didn’t risk his chances this time and slammed the rest of the drink down with a choked exhale. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Din, meanwhile, wondered if it was at all possible for Jedi to get drunk, let alone tipsy. Otherwise… that would’ve been fairly careless of a Jedi Master.

“Okay, weirdest bounty.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“We’re doing small talk now?”

“Yes!” His mien wavered a tad, looking after Din with performative caution. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just… seems a little strange at this point.”

“Better late than never.” Luke shrugged, his aloof countenance returning as he swiveled in his seat, settling further in comfort that Din had yet to truly grasp. Big and rounded eyes bore their way into his heart, making direct eye contact in a way that should’ve been difficult to achieve, stripping the hunter bare, powerless to do anything about it. 

“Well?” he asked more insistently.

“Well what?”

“Weirdest bounty! I know you heard me.”

Din didn’t offer anything other than silence. The younger man blew air to knock back the fringe out of his (now rolling) eyes and shook his head.

“I get it, you’re a loner type and a poor socialite. But come on, you must have at least one good story.”

Din lips morphed into a tight, fine line. He had… never divulged about himself before, let alone was the story telling type. Now thinking back on his expansive life, the journey of existence in the harsh, cold, and cruel reality that was the galaxy, Din wondered if his life evinced significance and worthiness to someone like Luke. He even wondered in the deep recesses of his mind, if his parents would be proud of all he had accomplished.

All the blood he had spilled.

“I don’t know of… any weird bounties.” He stated hesitantly. 

The story of the Krayt Dragon might impress the Jedi, considering his homeworld. However, Din had the sneaking suspicion that Luke was seeking something deeper, further back in his career. There was only one story that came to mind.

“Quarzite.”

“Quarzite?”

“Quarzite.” Din confirmed.

When he didn’t advance the conversation any further, Din tried to not let his glee or satisfaction seep into his body language as he saw the Jedi raise both brows expectantly, and then pout when he realized that the hunter wouldn’t give him what he wanted so easily. A taste of his own medicine, Din reasoned to himself. The Jedi made vague comments, so why shouldn’t he get to squirm in turn? Eventually though, Din did relent and crossed his arms over his covered chest, leaning back and recounting the details to the best of his memory.

“I take it you’ve been?”

“Can’t say that I have, no.”

“Hmm,” Din gave a charitable hum. 

“It’s a planet that’s fully pressurized, the denizens make their homes below the surface of the planet, you can’t land on it with a starship. You have to use turbolifts to make it down anywhere.”

It had been an experience, really. One of his first experiences working a job with Ranzar Malk and the ol’ crew. He had been younger then, hungrier, prone to do more viscous things for the sake of the name Mandalorian without really grasping what that had truly meant at the time. What a reckless fool he had been.

Though, considering what he had done for the sake of Grogu, perhaps that wild streak hadn’t fully dissipated, but found a new use instead.

“I was hired by a Belugan, named Angilldae. Was hired for a hit, specifically.” He didn’t miss the way Luke’s visage became downcast.

“Bounty Hunter.” Din reminded pointedly.

“Yeah, I know.” The Jedi remarked rather stiffly but nodded for Din to continue regardless.

“The bounty was a Kage. A warrior, I didn’t know that at the time. Just that he was an enemy of the Belugan and was at war with one another, typical stuff. It’s not my job to ask questions or to bring about peace between tribes.”

He wasn’t a Jedi, after all.

Yet, looking back on the mark, his younger self really had been a fool, surrounded by awful people, never having a secondary thought that this wasn’t an okay thing to do. It hadn’t helped that Din had only been in his early adolescence with Xi’an at his side, cementing herself a dangerous distraction and instigator, for better and definitely for worse.

Xi’an had even made a game out of bounty hunting. “Who could get to the target first”, was very popular, and Din had been more than eager to take up her challenges back then.

“We got to the inner surface, but that was as smooth as it got. First thing that happened during a perimeter stakeout, a damned can-cell, complete with a jeweled encrusted exoskeleton, snatches both me and one of my crew members by surprise and takes us to its nest.”

It had been the most beautiful cave he had ever witnessed with his own eyes in retrospect. However, Din hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the natural wonders, due in part by being plastered to the ceiling by his feet, held there by some sap-like secretions from the insects' foul gullet.

There wasn’t enough time to really admire the underworld’s crystalline structure, but from what he had recalled, there had been large, fluorescent gems that would make any Coruscant noble grovel to just gaze upon them. Water as clear and sweet smelling as the waters of a then existing Alderaan ran through the caves like veins, spreading life and pure air throughout its catacombs.

“... I watched it eat my crew member's head off his shoulders.”

Skywalker’s face paled and his eyes went wide with shock, possibly of how nonplussed Din was delivering his tale. The blond parted and then closed his lips a few times, trying and failing to come up with something before weakly stating, “I said weirdest bounty.”

“I’m getting there.” Din scoffed. “My helm is the same as it had been. Made of pure beskar.” Wasn’t the first time his armor saved him, and strangely enough, it wasn’t the last time in terms of being eaten by a giant creature. 

“It wasn’t able to bite my head off, but it wasn’t detoured by fire either, instead it bit right through the hose of my fuel, covering me in the substance.”

“You didn’t get burned, did you?”

“No. My flamethrower nozzle was crushed by its mandibles before then.”

“Ah. So the gasoline made you least palpable to the creature, right?”

“Nope.”

Quite the opposite in fact. Din couldn’t (and still can’t) smell as clearly with the helmet on. Most of his senses, he learned to just accept that they were processing through a filter. Colors and hues muted, smell and touch sparse without true stimulation. He had felt the gasoline seep between the cracks of his armor, hairs prickling from the cooled wetness, only to realize that he had been perspiring from panic.

With his shell, Din could pretend that the violence and pain was just another filter far from reality. He could pretend that when the can-cell’s mandibles unhinged and a slimy throat with small wriggling tendrils lining its flesh, that everything wasn’t as horrible as it seemed. That it was okay for his brain to not respond and move his body the way it should.

Heavy limbs flaying uselessly, not reaching for any of his hidden pockets that were sewn into the seams of his flight suit. Not once reaching for any of his outer weapons that were strapped to his waist and thighs like a second skin. Din knew what he needed to do at the moment. To take his blade and stab the insect’s eyes, shove a grenade in its mouth, grip the creature’s jaw and pull.

Instead…

“I was… slick enough that it was swallowing me whole. About halfway down to my waist in fact.”

Even now, despite being in the throat of a krayt dragon and having a rancor bite at his head, nothing compared to how terrified he had felt at that moment. Just the thought made a full body shiver chill his blood. He hoped Skywalker hadn’t noticed— Din knew better, he most certainly had —and pushed forward.

“But the strangest part was that the in-line webbing of the can-cell acted like a sarlacc. Keeping the victim alive and digesting food slowly, fusing the prey into its body. So, when I see the head of my crew member coming into view, it said “ Glad you could join.””

“The head… talked?”

“The head talked.”

“Wow.”

“I was only halfway inside when a Kage Warrior shot it, in the form of distraction. They um.. they freed me and in return I left the planet.”

It was a very cowardly thing to do. To leave a job unfinished like that. But the Kage had saved his life, and had applied some sort of balm to the wounds that were indented into his unprotected stomach.

The whole time, the alien warrior’s golden eyes and silver hair gleamed in the bedazzled caverns, undaunted, focused, completely at peace. Like a Jedi.

Or maybe, Din was and had always been too soft for the galaxy.

When it was clear that he didn’t want to divulge into any further details, Luke accepted as much and nodded in gratitude to Din, settling back against his seat with a gentle sigh.  “What about you?” Din asked, rather impromptu, startling the younger man.

“Me?”

“Quid pro qu, Skywalker.”

“Hmm…”

Din could only guess the kind of stories Luke Skywalker could tell. The pause was more than appropriate as the young man seemed to have undergone so much so quickly. In the absence of conversation, Din tried to think about what the story would entail.

Perhaps an anecdote about his Jedi training, of his time in the Rebel Army, something about the fighting corps. Or, maybe something ridiculously impossible. Like outgunning the Empire with only one jammed blaster, single handedly destroying a Star Destroyer with a wing missing, moving a black hole with his magic to suck in a squadron of TIEs, crashing through orbit and miraculously floating himself down to safety without a single scratch on his person.

Yeah, that sounded like a Luke Skywalker story. 

“I saved a friend who was kidnapped by some weird turkeys.”

Alright. That settled it. Skywalker was an enigma that Din was never ever going to understand.

“... By what?”

“Okay, they weren’t actually turkeys. But, that’s the best way I can describe the situation. Somehow— by accident, a friend of mine was held ‘hostage’. I landed on some kind of…” Skywalker paused and rolled his wrist with an aimless gesture, pursing his lips as he was searching for the right words. “Comedy-Variety-Show-Planet.” He settled, with a shrug.

“I was with my droid friends, Artoo and Threepio. We were looking for a Wookie, Chewbacca is his name, he sent a letter with flimsiplast.”

This sounded like some sort of ‘man-walks-into-a-cantina’ joke, told from the point of view of an Amorphiian Android. Long winded, complicated, and missing a few context clues.

“Needless to say, while I was there I encountered a sentient talking frog, charming in his own way— anyways, they wanted me to sing and or dance on a segmented time slot and of course I was not interested. Long story short, I had to commandeer their spacecraft, a real pigsty, the crew were actually pigs though—“

“ Stop. Stop, I can't..”

“I’m dead serious! That’s what happened and that’s how it happened!”

The problem was, Din did believe he was serious. He knew by Luke’s tone that he meant every inane thing coming out of his own mouth. But how in all the Hells was he supposed to take it? 

It didn’t help that the sage was just now realizing how absurd the story sounded, his matter of fact tone and nonplussed expression shattered. Now Luke’s face broke into a wide grin, dimples and white teeth on full display, shoulders bouncing from a rise of laughter bubbling within his chest.

“So— so, anyway, we landed on a planet, I think it was a planet– maybe it wasn’t. Coming across a… whatever it was, going by the name of Derth Nader—”

“I swear, if you’re lying about this.” Din threatened by pointing a very rigid finger at Luke’s sternum, his own stomach flexing and trembling as he was deliberately holding back a dam of laughter and conviviality that he hadn’t allowed anyone to experience for nearly two decades. If Luke was somehow saying the most nonsensical thing with the sole purpose of making the already disgraced Mandalorian look like an even bigger fool, he was so close to accomplishing that.

“I swear by my family name, I’m telling you the truth!” Luke in contrast, had no issues bursting out into a chortle that was gaining their table some curious looks. The blond held his stomach with one hand and wheezed out another swear of asseveration. “I’m not kidding I actually— My blaster was even disrupted by— some device called a crypto anagon transmitter!“


At that point, Din was beaten down by an infectious giddiness and banged his fist on the table to suppress the brunt of a barked laugh that certainly would’ve denounced any credibility he still had left. It made Grogu jump and glance up at him, surprised and perhaps startled. Seeing as there weren't any malicious reasons for the actions, the Child simply went back to chewing on his taffy.

Even with Din’s valiant attempts at keeping tight-lipped, a husky chortle escaped all the same. “A crypto anagon what?” he croaked out in disbelief. This served to only make Luke snicker, having to bite at a knuckle to keep from guffawing any louder than he had been a moment ago, nodding in confirmation. This only served to push out another bout of laughter, strained from effort to keep this embarrassing behavior at bay as much as possible. And yet…

The tight knot that had twisted inside Din’s guts began to release, chest feeling lighter, and his self-made walls had begun to lower. “Wow,” he heard Skywalker remark breathlessly. Din rose his head slowly, swallowing thickly as now his mouth felt very dry. Din didn’t get flustered often, but even he couldn’t deny the heat that began to gather across his cheeks and the back of his neck. 

“What?” Din asked, voice a little hoarse from laughing so much. 

“I just...” Luke bit his lower lip and offered a ghoatish shrug. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before, is all.”

It was then that his flush grew and Din moved with the rigidness of a droid, awkwardly leaning back in his seat and clearing his throat to relieve some of his awkwardness. “I’m not… really much of the laughing type,” he admitted, feeling shameful.

“So I’ve noticed.” Luke only beamed at him, warmly. “You’re a pretty hard person to warm up to, if I’m honest,” he continued, steepling fingers together, resting his elbows onto the table's surface.

“I’m— sorry.”

“Don’t be. Besides, I like a challenge.” Luke didn’t miss a beat and winked.

Din didn’t know how to interpret the gesture at this moment. Something warm coiled in the very center of his chest, but that could be explained due to his earlier display of unprofessionalism.

Skywalker lowered his hands, fingers still intertwined with each other as the sage made a soft and contented hum. He angled his head slightly to the left, not unlike Din with the way he would silently ask for clarity. The playful glimmer in his eyes was ever present.

“Can I ask why you were initially so cold to me? I don’t remember having done anything to warrant such a cold shoulder.”

“You delivered a defenseless child back to a war zone without much of an explanation and little to no guardianship.”

The amused grin dropped from Luke’s face, skin growing a brighter and pinker hue than before. He looked down at the table, glancing up at Din through his lashes looking like a kicked massiff. “I...” He began slowly, but Din wasn’t about to let him finish and interrupted with a very verbal scoff of levity. It wasn’t as if Din had a leg to stand on with that judgment anyhow.

“I’m joking.” 

Even with all that power to read emotions, it still seemed like Din’s dry humor was something that not even a wizard could decipher. The thought gave him a surprising amount of comfort. Proceeding his good natured guarantee that the misunderstanding was only that, Din hummed, searching for how much of the truth he was willing to confide in Luke of his initial skepticism. It was smarter to not paint the whole picture but instead, provide a little bit of cultural context. 

“In truth? I guess I was being overly cautious. What with our kind being ancient enemies and all—”

“We’re enemies?”

Oh. So he didn’t know.

Those sky bright orbs became saucer wide, brows pinched together, and lips parted. The Jedi looked comically aghast at the mere idea of what Din had just proposed to him. In due fairness, it wasn’t as if Din was in any position to judge the Jedi on his lack of insight. Still, the reaction made the corner of his lips quirk upwards, threatening a chuckle at Skywalker’s expense. Instead, the hunter practiced great restraint and shrugged instead.

“I was told so, at least. Apparently, it was a deep-seeded ancient feud between our kind… Did your Clan— Order, not tell you anything about your history?”

The presumption carried a sort of amusement, as well as a lingering curiosity for vindication. Din hadn’t been aware just how little he had known of his own adopted culture (an unspoken stigma of being a foundling?). So, there was a possibility that Luke, too, was unaware of his heritage and not just in the teaching aspects? 

Luke’s face fell, lips tightening and Din could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed from swallowing thickly. Grogu had sensed the shift in his Master’s countenance through their bond, ears perked straight up and dark eyes shimmered expectantly under the dim light of this grease bucket. Din’s curiosity peaked further.

“I had two masters.” Luke finally uttered, licking his lower lip in thought.

“One, I only knew vicariously. He lived in the Dune Sea, watching over me without my knowledge. I only got to really know him for a day and a half before…”

Another thick swallow and his expression pinched further, lower jaw grinding against teeth in an effort to hold back an emotion Din could only identify as self appointed anger. The frustration of not being able to prevent a mishap, the ex-mandalorian knew that feeling all too well. 

“Before he was killed.” Luke forced out. “A year later I learned sparse things here and there, none super concrete. Then I came across my last master and.. I only trained with him for a few weeks. Felt like years, but not a lot of time had really passed between the lectures and the endurance tests, both mind and body. I was in the middle of a war– my friends were held prisoner, there wasn’t much time to have a history lesson, no matter how many questions I wanted to ask.”

Regret stayed any further divulging for a minute. Clearly, grief was what consumed Skywalker and Din was starting to put together why his accident during sparring had shaken the Jedi so much. It appeared that Luke was very hard on himself because so many things were left unresolved.

“I met up with him again three years later, he too… had died during my visit.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all Din could offer.

“Now, I feel like it was on purpose, not— not my masters dying. What they taught me in so little time. To wipe the slate clean and just give me the basics. But, I still wish I knew a little bit more about...”


Luke sighed heavily, the dark circles under his eyes and the shape of his hollowed cheeks became more apparent and pronounced under the weak light of the cantina. He lowered his head further, shielding his expression behind fair bangs. “About what I’m supposed to be.” The young man whispered in secret to both his confidant and student.

Din didn’t feel like he could offer much in assurance. There was, however, an uncomfortable twinge of empathy. 

Now that he had been exposed to a new subsection of Mandalorians and learned just how much of his culture was not known to him— to be counted as dar’manda by the only family he had…. Din was at a loss of what to do. Soulless and without purpose. The blade on his hip was meant to come to the worthy, to be brought to an expected leader. That was his apparent burden now, his honor to become a ruler for his people, the Manda’lor. Even so, perhaps it wasn’t the life of a Mandalorian he felt at home with. Perhaps, it was being a simple bounty hunter that allowed him ease, a job that never guaranteed a stable home. He couldn’t think of what felt like the right path anymore. 

“What was it like?” Luke asked, having now shaken himself out of his stupor while knocking Din out of his. “When you were a bounty hunter?”

“Were?”

“You know, before..”

His eyes trailed to Grogu, pawing at his second helping of blue tepasi taffy, bites getting less ravenous and more leisurely. The kid sure liked blue..

Din gathered what Luke was asking him, his mentality and disposition certainly had changed when his foundling had entered his existence. It almost seemed like an entire lifetime ago that there was anything before this.

The ex-Mandalorian tapped at the table, trying to put the experience and emotions into words that someone with Skywalker’s life experience would understand. Bounty hunting in general wasn’t always action packed, just, or even morally gray. 

Din had killed people for less than simple desertion, paltry revenge, or petty theft. Now, he couldn’t remember why . He looked down at the table, sighing as he committed to omitting certain facts and details. Hoping the Jedi wouldn’t press while simultaneously (and quite unconsciously) keeping an eye on Grogu.

The Child’s energy was waning, big eyelids began to droop heavily, and the little body pressed itself against Din’s side. His clawed fingers clutching the sugary blue stick, as stubborn as a ronto in rut.

“Routine.” He started, growing conviction. Luke raised an eyebrow, inviting him to elucidate. 

An exhausted sigh left him, becoming crackled thanks to his vocoder. Fingers clenching just a tad. “Some would… consider it lonely, I guess. But not for me,” Din shrugged with one shoulder. 

“A covert, that was my home, and I provided for them with my routine. But, I wasn’t around much… Once I acquired a spacecraft of my own. Soon, the Razor Crest, my original ship, became my new home. I never found my job monotonous, I rarely considered it a hazard to myself either. Violence and fighting, that is— was... my religion. And I never sought to be anything more than a weapon, a tool for the people that I would give my life for. That is the way. The only thing I ever wanted for myself was the freedom to come and go as I pleased, the stars are where I feel... at home.”

No matter how fleeting that feeling is.

He was becoming rather winded, never having divulged so much about himself for such a long period of time. Fighting wave after wave of pirates while trying to offload a bomb? No problem. Carrying Krayt Dragon meat through Tatooine sands in full armor? Typical.

Talking about himself? Well, everyone has a weakness, he supposed. It was over now, and the ex-Mandalorian allowed his shoulders to release some tension. Only for his entire body to stiffen right back up as soon as he heard Skywalker begin to chuckle.

It was an unexpected sound, and it didn’t come across as unkind. However, because Din had been looking at Grogu the whole time, Skywalker’s reaction towards his little tangent was a mystery. He should’ve been looking, that way he wouldn’t have been thrown so off guard. 

The Jedi could already sense his emotions. A wizard was poking around in his mind, and as he laid himself bare like that… Din supposed it was a tactical decision (and admittedly self consciousness) that proposed this was safer.

“Is that funny?” Din asked, visor tilted downwards in a challenging manner.

The Jedi didn’t seem to register his hinted irritation, only smiling with his eyes in that friendly, carefree manner again, “No, of course not.” He assured, shaking his head. Now, Skywalker’s gaze drifted lower, looking past the surface of the table.

“It’s just… That sounds like the kind of stuff I used to dream about. On Tatooine, I’d gaze up past the setting suns, the rising moons, and out into the stars and… I would imagine myself on some grand adventure, sailing across the galaxy. Discovering new planets and people. Waiting on a small moisture farm, searching for someone— any excuse to take me away. I rarely liked staying in the same place for a long time, too.”

He shook his head, dark blond bangs nearly covering his eyes again. Luke smiled, strained and wary this time.

“That was the kinda life I imagined for myself, minus— the killing people for money part.”

Din hadn’t considered…

No.

The truth was, he hadn’t worked to find similarities between himself and the Jedi, never bothering to draw comparisons. 

Yet, Skywalker turned out to be like him. A weapon for the Republic, a clan he would gladly lay down his own life for. Another kettle of Giju, and still, somehow they both managed to end up on similar pathways, it was at times like this that Din contemplated believing in fate. This Force.

“You wouldn’t have been a good bounty hunter.” 

Din simply stated it. Not mockingly, but factual. The young man chuckled and smiled warily, folding his arms over themselves and slumping forward.

He looked much younger like this, with yellow sleeves that still seemed far too big for him. Without the robes, Skywalker truly appeared to be a different person. As if he was finally allowing Din to see a side of himself that he had kept hidden away for a long time. It was all so personable.

“No, no I wouldn’t have.” Luke agreed with a nod, a fond sounding huff escaped him. “You probably wouldn’t have taken me with you either, huh.”

“Probably not.”

“But, here we are.”

“Here we are.”

Luke pursed his lips in thought, shoulders bouncing through an attempted chuckle, a playful smile lighting up his face again, head tilted slightly.

“Do you think I would’ve been a good Mandalorian?”

A foreboding quiet took over, Din’s casual smile he hadn’t been aware of, melted away little by little as he didn’t necessarily entertain the idea. Because, it wasn’t a serious suggestion. More or less, it sparked a question. A question that had buried itself deep into Din’s gut the very moment that Jedi Master Skywalker docked the Imperial Star Cruiser. 

“Would I have been a good Jedi?”

The question came out more slowly and choked than Din had anticipated. A surprised swell of bitterness aroused in the very back of his throat. His weary and heavy eyes trailed to Grogu, unintentionally hinting at his meaning to the Jedi Master sitting across from him.

Out of the periphery of tinted glass, Din noted the way that Skywalker’s smile had disappeared too. His own gaze following Din’s lead to glance at Grogu. The blond’s face morphed into realization, perhaps finally picking up on Din’s long harbored, petty jealousy or utter hopeless desire to be the only one that his foundling needed. To be the father the little creature deserved.

The ex-mandalorian went rigid a bit, the carefully crafted walls that had been slowly lowering over the course of this afternoon were building up and even without the Force, Din could see that something in Skywalker’s demeanor had changed. Even though his gaze still held undaunted compassion, that impassive mask slipped itself back on. Din cursed himself for causing such a sudden shift in mood but he didn’t know what was safe to express anymore.

Skywalker’s hand made an attempt to hover over Din’s forearm, apprehensive, hesitating. His index and middle finger twitched to hook themselves into the fabric of the hunter’s layered limb before retreating into a fist. No doubt, the gesture would’ve been grounding and a small part of Din wished that he still didn’t find the Jedi’s reassurance so uncomfortable.

The Jedi settled on communication over action, thankfully. “You would’ve been the best of us.” He said in a soft manner, but soberly, nonetheless.

The man in Beskar didn’t move his head to acknowledge the gestured kindness, keeping his eyes on his now yawning child. Saving face for Skywalker’s benefit or his own was uncertain to him. However, he was grateful for the solace and his throat swelled up with emotion once more.