Stowaway | A Mandalorian Love Story | Din Djarin x OC

Chapter Ten: The Casualty

Suggested Listening:
Main Title - Marc Shaiman (from City Slickers) | ... road rules
Padre Ramirez - Ennio Morricone (from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) | ... the client
Billy Bones - James Newton Howard (from Treasure Planet) | ... a broken heart

"Watch out!"

Din yanked me by the elbow, stopping me just before an erratically driving speeder made me into mincemeat.

"Hey, outta the way, lady!" Shouted the Ithorian behind the wheel.

I stared after him, flabbergasted.

"You saw that," I said crossly to Din. "He came out of nowhere!"

"Road rules are really more like guidelines in Mos Espa," he answered, amused. "Haven't you been here before?"

"Actually no," I said as we crossed the street, heading deeper into the center of town. "It always seemed like a risky place to be."

I noted how good it felt to be confident enough to be here now — a feeling only fortified by my company.

I looked up at the kid, who was peering out over Din's shoulder from his carrier with wide-eyed delight and reaching his arm out toward a food cart. He squealed. Din reached back and moved the kid's hand down with his finger.

"No food," he said to him. "Not right now."

"Oh c'mon," I said, watching the kid's big ears deflate in disappointment. "Can't we get him a skewer?"

The kid looked at Din, expectantly. Din stopped and heaved an annoyed sigh.

"Fine," he said begrudgingly, and wandered back to the cart. I smiled to myself as I watched him hand a skewer of spiced meat up to the kid. Then he took two more from the vendor and made his way back to me.

"Here," he muttered, handing one to me. "But don't count on that working every time you do it."

I chuckled, taking a bite and following them.

I hardly ever saw Din eat — he was obviously a very private person, and he tended to vanish for periods of time on the ship, during which I assumed he was bathing, eating, and any other thing that might involve removing his helmet. He never said anything, but I understood that during those times I was to stay in the cockpit and give him space.

Now, I watched him with careful curiosity as he tipped his helmet up ever so slightly — almost inscrutably — to take a bite. I caught the tiniest glimpse of the bottom of a chin and felt a thrill — followed immediately by a crash of guilt for even wondering. Not very respectful to steal glances, I scolded myself in my head.

We arrived at a pub at the far end of a dusty alley. I squinted into the dark as we stepped inside, my eyes adjusting from the bright desert sunlight. As the dingy, dank interior faded into view, I understood immediately why we were meeting here — this client was a bigwig in the gambling world, and this venue was definitely out of the way from his fellow fancy friends.

"Pssssst!"

A hiss pierced the stuffy saloon air. We wheeled around to see a man in a laughably opulent gold vest and cloak sitting in the corner booth alone, waving us over obviously. Din and I exchanged a look before approaching the table.

"Are you Blor?" Asked Din in a low, gravelly voice — his Bounty Hunter voice, I realized with a touch of amusement.

"Shhh," hissed the man, waving for us to sit down. We exchanged another look and sat at the table, facing him. He leaned forward and knit his bushy brows together, seriously.