اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
SILENCE FILLS THE MANDALORIAN'S SHIP AS NAOMI SITS IDLY IN THE COPILOT'S SEAT.
She adores the Razor Crest. It's old, famously so, but a smooth ride due to the tender love it's received and Naomi finds it surprisingly spacious in comparison to the many dismal ships she's ferried. And, most importantly, it's free. There's not much to be said about the owner that sits before her. If she didn't know better, she would think she was traveling with a droid. His movements, if any, are slow and calculated and completely silent. Not even a breath could be heard from his helmet after they parted from Nevarro. Stars catch on his helmet, striping across the curved surface like streaks of pure white light. Naomi spots a shiny addition to his armor. A pauldron, silver and impenetrable, rests on his shoulder, and she wonders how he'd been able to craft it in a such short time. She muses the idea of an armorer hidden somewhere in the volcanic sands of Nevarro but quells the thought immediately. It would be better not to get her hopes up at all.
Unbeknownst to Naomi, her mysterious partner had been watching her as well. He studies her inky reflection in the glass ahead of him—tanned skin, a worn leather jacket, and warm, lash-fringed eyes. Wide pupils hide in their hazel-brown depths, like a glistening abyss that reflects the stars above. He watches as those eyes drift closed and she breathes a sigh, reclining in her seat and hiking her legs up on the control panel. He does not share her satisfaction.
His gloved hand reaches out and shoves her feet off his panel. He ignores her sound of surprise when her heavy boots crash to the floor.
"Hey!" She cuts to him with a glare, ignoring the dull ache that spreads through her toes.
"Feet off." He turns in his seat to level his gaze on her, or—at least that's what Naomi thinks he's doing. It's difficult to tell. "You're on a job, not vacation."
A pout shapes her lips as she adjusts in her seat, feet now resting flat on the floor. "Maybe not for you." She sounds condescending as she watches the back of his helmet. "This is the smoothest ride I've had in months."
The Mandalorian raises a brow at that but otherwise ignores her complaints. "Well, buckle up. We're about to land."
Naomi rolls her eyes as she mocks his bossy nature. "Sir, yes sir."
