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Long after they've left the bolt-ridden town behind, the graze on Zoya's upper arm begins to burn. It hadn't bothered her at first, as the numbing adrenaline zipping through her veins during the fight and escape had concealed the pain. Wincing, she touches a few careful fingers to the hole singed in her loose, tan colored sleeve. Her skin underneath is slightly charred from the blaster shot and stained a hot, angry red. The pad of her thumb barely brushes the area, and she sucks in a pained breath, yanking her hand away.
"Shit," she hisses.
Not one to miss anything, Mando's seat turns slightly, and he looks away from the child, who stares at all the controls, its fingers stretching forward to play with one of the buttons. "What happened?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Nothing," Zoya says, but her teeth are clenched together. "Just a little graze from the shootout back there."
Before she's done talking, the bounty hunter is already standing up, pushing himself out of his seat. The cloak hanging from his shoulders is asymmetrical; one side drapes across his left shoulder, concealing the top of his armor, whilst the other side is tucked neatly behind the broad expanse of his upper back. Her muscles coil tighter as he approaches, falling into a careful crouch before her. Her eyes flick to the child by the controls, keeping an eye on him to guarantee he doesn't press anything.
"Where?" he says.
Zoya shakes her head. "It's nothing."
"Where are you hurt?" Mando insists, but before she can deny him again, his helmet tilts to the side, and she knows he's seen the burned fabric on her upper arm. He reaches up, but his fingers stall in the air. "May I?" His voice is quieter than she's ever heard it before; something softens in the deep tones.
She swallows. "Yes."
Carefully, as she twists her arm towards him, he spreads the damaged fabric away from the wound. Zoya winces as a couple threads that have become stuck in the drying blood pull free. His movements slow when he sees the flash of pain, and beneath the helmet, his eyes flicker up to her face. She glances down, picking up the slight movement of his head.
"I'm fine," Zoya reassures him. "Just stung a little."
Mando keeps his eyes on her as he peels the rest of the fabric away, noting every twitch of her brows and every clench of her jaw that she involuntarily does as the tender skin is exposed even more to the cold air inside the Razor Crest. The tips of his gloved fingers touch the area around the bloody, inflamed skin. She exhales shakily.
