"So," Cara says, breaking the silence. "We're going to Nevarro?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Zoya mutters, earning herself an amused glance from the ex-shock trooper.
"Have you ever been?" Din asks.
"No. We lost a lot of our forces there. The city's dug in pretty deep. No cover when you drop in." She eases herself down into one of the other seats, catching Zoya's eye. "It stayed in Empire control until the end of the war."
"The warlord we're taking out was an Imperial officer." Din hesitates, almost mentioning the man's second in command, but decides to remain silent, acutely aware of Zoya's presence in the seat behind him.
Cara's jaw works. "What station?"
"Hard to tell. No insignia anymore. I took out the safehouse when I snatched the kid. More Imps have reinforced since," Din replies.
"There's something more going on," Cara says.
Din's head tilts. "Maybe. We'll find out more when we land."
"Before or after we kill all of them?" Zoya asks offhandedly, still gazing out at the backdrop of stars.
Cara snorts as the doors slide open, revealing IG-11. "I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?" it asks.
Din's chair turns, and he looks up at the droid for a long, tense second. "I'm not hungry." Before Zoya can chime in that she is, in fact, very hungry, the droid ducks out once again without waiting for either her or Cara to answer its question. "Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship."
"You got a real thing for droids, don't you?" Cara jibes, cleaning the barrel of her rifle.
"I got a real thing for that droid."
Zoya makes a tutting noise. "I think you're uptight about all droids, or else you would've let Peli use hers to—"
"All right, all right," he mutters. "Maybe I do. But this one's different."
"The Ugnaught said he rewired it," Cara says.
Din remains unmoved. "That droid was designed to kill things. I don't care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature."
"Well, it shouldn't be a long job anyway," Cara says, unbothered by the bite in Din's voice. "We take out the head Imp, the rest will run like rats." She stands with a quick grin in Zoya's direction and exits the cockpit.
Even seated a few feet behind him, Zoya can practically feel the tension radiating from Din, just by the set of his shoulders. She stands and moves on light feet to stand behind him, placing her hands softly down upon the Beskar's curves. He nearly jumps at her touch but manages to conceal the movement by reaching forward to press a button on the console.
Zoya leans down enough that her lips linger by the side of his helmet. "You know," she says, "if you'd just take all this off, I could give you a little massage."
"A massage?" His voice almost sounds choked.
"Yeah," Zoya murmurs, pressing her fingers down onto the spot where his cloak attaches to the long sleeved shirt he wears underneath the Beskar. "You look tense."
"I am tense." Din releases a breath. A massage does sound nice. "I don't like not knowing what Greef's intentions are."
"I know." Zoya's quiet for a moment, then she says, "I'll be with you, the whole time, watching your back. You'll always have me."
Doubt and guilt pull in tandem at his heart, and Din swallows, the weight of her hands resting on his shoulders almost feeling like a lifeline. "I will?"
"Until the last star in the galaxy dies," she promises, unaware that the words will become a bitter, mocking lie.
｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ
huh. act 3 really gonna begin like that i guess.
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& thank u guys for 100k!! i don't know what i did to deserve all this support & it means the world to me ily 🥺💫
little self promo, but i published an oc one shots book, so if any of you guys want to see extra scenes with din & zoya or any of my other characters, u can go request & let me know what you'd like to see!
