Armored Passion | The Mandalorian

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A mere lock of a door. 

That's all it took to get my mind up and running again. 

There had been a subtle break in the silence that had been encasing my unconscious form and it was enough to put me right on edge. I mean, I had fallen asleep in an empty hotel suite and by the sound of it, it wasn't so empty anymore. 

Panic slowly started to pump through my veins as I struggled to pull myself out of the sleepy haze I had been set in after passing out from pure exhaustion. I forced myself to lay perfectly still on my stomach, giving my senses the silence they needed to detect any unusual movements or sounds that might be enough to set me off. 

"She had a long day, kid. We gotta let her rest for now."

Thank the Maker, it's Din and the kid. 

My body relaxes back into the mattress once I process that it's them and I feel myself draw closer and closer to dozing off against, but the gentle click of the bedroom door closing as well as a pair of soft footsteps keep me up and conscious. The sound of clinking beskar tells me that it's Din, but then again, who else could it really be? The mattress dips down near the edge and he rests one of his large gloved hands on the bare small of my back, shaking me ever so slightly. 

"Hey, you should change," he mutters, hooking one of his fingers onto the bottom hem of my lacey bralette. I hum in protest and shake my head, keeping my eyes shut tight. He lets out a loud sigh, one that almost made me chuckle. "It's not good for you to wear a belt and holster to bed. You're gonna wake up with a pinched nerve if you do. You should change into something loose."

"Bad night. Too tired. Body hurts," I mutter back, barely forming comprehensible words as I kept my face pressed into the mattress. He sighs again, resting his palm flat against my back. The gloved fingertip of his pointer finger gently traced one of the tattooed moons on my back, following the perfect circle that was inked into my skin. 

"Your body hurts?"

I nod my head in response. He lets out a low hum, slowly halting the movement of his finger that had been tracing the tattooed moons on my back. The bed soon levels back out, signifying that he was back up on his feet and moving about the large room. I silently wondered what he was doing, but the sound of beskar clinking against the hardwood flooring smashed most of my silent wonders. 

The new sound definitely piqued my interest, but I couldn't fathom up enough energy to force my eyes open. So, instead of trying to get my eyes open and adjusted, I decided to focus the little energy I still had on using my other senses to see Din. 

His steps were slow and rhythmically methodical, leading down to the foot of the large bed we were meant to be sharing. He slowly takes a seat on the edge of the mattress again, staying completely still and rigid for a few moments. 

The room falls silent and I force myself to hone my senses in on him a little more. I take a deep breath and clear my mind, finally finding him within the force again. I couldn't actually see him, but I could feel him and the force that surrounded him. 

He was fidgeting with his hands; it's always been a nervous habit of his.

Whenever he was really nervous about something, he would trace the lines in the palm of his hand with his thumb, adding more and more pressure to his skin until it was almost as if he were pinching himself. I wanted to get up to stop him and ask him what was wrong, but he stopped himself before I could even attempt to lift my head. 

"Why does your body hurt?" he asks, resting one of his hands on my leg near my ankle. Goosebumps flicker over my olive-brown skin as the warmth of his hand encased my leg, his touch immediately telling me that he wasn't wearing his gloves anymore.