Stowaway | A Mandalorian Love Story | Din Djarin x OC

Chapter One: The Escape

"Kowakian rum!" A swaying celebrant held up three fingers. "For me and my friend here!"

His arm was slung around an equally unstable Tusken Raider. I nodded with a terse smile and tried to swallow my guilt — not because the rum I was pouring them was 60% water (I knew my clientele and these two were NEVER going to get straight Kowakian rum from me), but because I should've been there to help. I had peered out of my dark little room from out behind a smoke-blackened curtain like a coward and watched the whole town make a pilgrimage with a mysterious, silver-clad Mandalorian to work with their neighborly nemeses to conquer a massive Krayt dragon. I should've been there, but it would've been too much exposure. I didn't trust Tusken Raiders. Well, to be fair, I didn't really trust anybody.

Still... it had sounded like a good adventure...

Most of the night was carefully measuring the least amount of booze possible for each order — Marfa had clearly gotten caught up in the spirit of goodwill and brotherliness, and everyone was more than served already. I was considering telling everyone it was actually midnight and closing early just to get a break, when the Marshall walked in — accompanied by the Mandalorian I had seen earlier. Cobb Vanth made quick eye contact with me and we exchanged a familiar nod. He said something to the Mandalorian and drifted away to speak to a gathering of Tuskens near the door. The Mandalorian approached the bar.

"Evening," I said, wiping a fresh glass down with the cleanest rag I could find. "What can I get for you?"

"Nog," came a soft, unamused voice through the vocoder in his helmet. "Just one."

I began pouring.

"I know thats for the Marshall," I said. "Nothing for you?"

"No."

Guess followup questions aren't this guy's thing, I thought, and placed the drink on the bar in front of him. I opened my mouth to say "Enjoy," but he took it and slipped away abruptly, so it came out more as "Enjoooohkay then."

The Mandalorian and the Marshall took up a little table in the corner and had their heads together, discussing something intently. The remaining hour flew by and the revelers trickled out to stagger home, trading increasingly conflated stories of their Krayt dragon triumph. A quarter past midnight rolled around and I was wiping down the tables, but the two men were still in the corner, talking. I approached them with a gentle throat clear.

"Sorry, boys, but its closing time."

The Marshall looked up at me and nodded, distractedly. I took his glass and returned to the bar. As they stood and headed for the door, I caught the tail end of their conversation.

"And nothing I can say could convince you to stay, just to help with the transition?" Asked Cobb Vanth with a wan smile.

"Sorry," said the Mandalorian. "We're leaving tonight."

The doors swung behind them, and I wondered who "we" was. A loner could spot a loner from a mile off.

I was about to head up to bed when I heard — and felt — a massive boom, followed by an intense crackle. I dashed out the yet-to-be-locked back door and ran around the corner just in time for the next wall-shaking bang.

A glittering green firework streaked across the sky, casting an odd, beautiful light on the crowd that had gathered in the center of town — if you could even call it that. Our little Mos Pelgo was positively heaving with what had turned into a block party. I could tell some people from Mos Espa had come to celebrate, and people were clapping each other on the back and cheering as fireworks whistled up into the air. I couldn't help but grin as a blue and gold one spun clumsily into the sky and exploded in a maelstrom of shimmer and color.