Cataclysm ─── The Mandalorian. ¹

xxxii. she's an angel

            "So, um," she clears her throat, "what was all that shaking?"

            "Child got out of his seat, started messing with shit," Din says.

            Zoya sighs. "Again?"

            "Again."

            For a moment, it almost feels normal between them, as if nothing happened. But then, looking at Din, Zoya can't think of anything but how warm and heated his skin is beneath the cold Beskar, and a simmering ache pulls at the pit of her stomach.

            "Din—" Zoya starts, just as he says, "Zoya—"

            They both stop at the same time as Din turns in his seat, and gods is it awkward. His eyes travel across her face, along the rosy curve of her lower lip, to the mark he'd left on her neck, and his gloved fingers dig into his knees.

            "You first," Din says.

            Zoya's brow furrows. "Why me?"

            "Courtesy."

            "I don't give a Gungan's ass about c—"

            Before she can finish, a glowing blue hologram rises from the control panel, displaying someone that should be dead.

            "My friend, if you are receiving this transmission," the hologram of Greef Karga says, "that means you are alive. You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too—"

            "Son of a bitch," Zoya mutters.

            "—I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while."

            "That's—" Zoya begins, but Din glances at her over his shoulder, and though she can't see his face, it's a clear request for her to be quiet until the transmission is finished playing. She complies, folding her arms grumpily.

            "You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize," Greef continues. "So, here is my proposition. Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and the convict you've been hiding, and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism."

            Zoya glares at the hologram of the Guild leader until he disappears, digging her nails into the soft area above her elbows. "Can I speak now?" she says, voice clipped.

            Din nods distractedly, swiveling his seat slightly to look back at where the child has curled up in his seat, eyes fluttering closed. Soft snores begin to rumble in the creature's chest, and it pulls up the corner of Din's mouth despite the circumstances.

            "Are you going to—"

            "Yes," Din says, without waiting for her to finish. "It's a shot at our freedom. No more looking over our shoulders wherever we go, waiting for someone to take a shot at the child. Or you. Or me. It'll be over, and we can settle . . . we can be safe."