TWENTY ONE.
the blade's edge!
｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

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Noise spills out from the door of the cantina like a bucket overturned, washing across the toes of Zoya's boots as she follows the Mandalorian inside. She keeps so close on his heels that his cape flicks her shins, but she can't move back; something about Mos Eisley has gotten under her skin, and every sound begins to pull nerves through her body.

The room is mostly subdued; only a few patrons stand at the counters whilst others dot the tables littered across the floor. The scent of alcohol and grease hangs thick in the air, and she's almost tempted to hold her nose as the smell tumbles over her.

The Mandalorian starts to walk towards the counter, unaware of a young man in the corner watching them. He has dark hair and hooded eyes, and she might even think he was handsome if not for what he does next.

His eyes meet Zoya's for a brief second, and a beckoning smirk slinks across his mouth as he makes it as obvious as he can that he's looking her up and down. Zoya merely curls a lip at him in response, showing him her teeth as if she's ten times his size. All it serves to do is make him chuckle, and irritated, Zoya turns away, increasing her pace so she falls into step at her companion's side, feeling his eyes on her back.

"D—" Zoya catches herself, wary of using his name in earshot of others. "Mando. What are we doing here?"

"You'll see." He hears how she refrains from speaking his name aloud and silently thanks her for her thoughtfulness as they approach the bar, other creatures sitting around the cantina chittering to each other. "Hey droid," Din says, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the counter, "I'm a hunter. I'm looking for some work."

"Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine," it replies mechanically, a makeshift metal flap moving up and down on its head to simulate natural jaw movement. It only succeeds in making the droid look creepy, in Zoya's opinion.

"I'm not looking for Guild work," he says lowly.

The droid isn't moved, staring at them with blank, expressionless eyes. "I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation."

"Think again, tin can," a voice calls from behind them.

Zoya pivots and freezes as her eyes fall upon the same man who'd looked her up and down. Fingernails slide down her spine, raising the hairs on her arms, instinctively telling her something's off about him. "You," she mutters. The Mandalorian glances at her curiously, confused by the dark tone her voice takes on.

"If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend." He gestures to the chairs at his table, boots propped up lazily in front of him. "Name's Toro. Toro Calican. Come on, relax." As Din moves forward, Zoya tries to catch at his arm but misses. Swearing under her breath, she reluctantly follows him.

Toro heaves his boots off the table as they reach him, and closer up, Zoya spots a gold hoop hanging from one of his ears. The Mandalorian sits down, but she remains standing, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Come on sweetheart, sit down," Toro says with a sly twist to his mouth that makes her stomach turn. "I don't bite."

Din tenses, but before he can respond, Zoya snaps back through her teeth, fingers falling to curl around the hilt of her blaster, "I do."

He lets out a low whistle. "Gods. Where'd you find this one? Geonosis?"

As Zoya bristles, the Mandalorian leans forward marginally. "One more comment, and we're out the door. Make whatever this is worthwhile."

"Woah," Toro says, dragging out the o too dramatically to be serious. "O-kay. She's not the brightest ray of sunshine, so you can't expect me to say nothing about it."

He reaches for something in his pack, tossing it onto the table between the three before either has a chance to respond. Din stretches out carefully to press his fingertips to the back of her hand, where he feels tension thrumming through her veins. She clutches the hilt of her weapon, knuckles bone white with strain. Her eyes flick to his at the gentle touch, and he gives her a subtle dip of his helmet. It's okay.

Her fingers relax.

"Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid Rim," Toro says, breaking their connection. A revolving hologram rises from the puck, showing a picture of a dangerous looking woman, dark hair pulled away from her sharp features, lips flattened into a tight line. "Fennec Shand, an assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown."

"I know the name," Din says flatly.

"Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here," Toro continues, unhooking it from his belt to show the two. A red light flashes on the back of the device, emitting a quiet pulsing sound that's just loud enough for Zoya to hear. "Now, the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job."

"Well. Good luck with that." Din rises, moving closer to Zoya so he can put a hand on the small of her back. "Let's go."

"Wait, wait, wait, hey," Toro stammers, stumbling over his words. "I thought you needed work?"

"Not with you," Zoya snaps.

Toro rolls his eyes, and Din speaks, trying to diffuse the tension. "How long you been with the Guild?"

"Long enough," he says sharply.

"Clearly not," Din replies, voice the edge of a blade. "Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts." Zoya's brows shoot up. She hadn't known that. "If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise."

As the Mandalorian moves away, Zoya smiles at Toro before she walks past, saccharine sweet. "Good luck."

His jaw clenches, but before they can leave him behind, he jumps from the table, catching the two just as they reach the door. "This is my first job," he admits lowly, spitting out the words as if they're made of acid. "You can keep the money, all of it. I know I haven't been exactly polite to you"—he jerks his chin towards Zoya, then looks back towards the Mandalorian—"but I need this job to get into the Guild. I can't do it alone."

Din's head tilts down as he glances at Zoya, and she knows immediately that he's considering it. She gives him a look that clearly reads, softie, and he rolls his eyes beneath the helmet, knowing she's probably right.

"Meet me at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob." Toro's enthusiasm morphs into hesitance as the Mandalorian reaches out for the device. A voice plays in the back of his mind as he waits, questioning why Zoya hadn't objected to his request and told Toro to bring three, instead.

His thoughts dissipate as the young man pulls out the fob, considers it for a moment, then smashes it hard against the wall with a burst of sparks and a wisp of black smoke, destroying the device and burying the information it holds.

"You fucking idiot," Zoya says exasperatedly, lifting her eyes to the ceiling.

"Don't worry," Toro taps his temple, "got it all memorized."

"Well thank fuck for that," she mutters, earning herself a look from the Mandalorian, still standing right next to her.

"Half an hour," he reminds Toro.

As Zoya and Din walk out of the cantina, Toro's voice comes from behind them. "Looks like you're stuck with me now, partner!"

"Fantastic," Zoya grumbles. "Just what I wanted."

"He was rude, but we can still help him," Din says, trying to soften her to the idea as their boots touch the hard, uncracking ground outside.

Zoya shakes her head. "Of course we can. But we don't have to." She wants to tell him about the way Toro had slid his eyes along her body when they'd walked in, slow and deliberate, but she can't seem to say it. The moment had taken her back to the prison, back to the guards, back to the way they'd treated her, and the words stick in her throat.

"You're right," he says as they start back down the street towards bay three-five, dust kicking up from their footsteps to frame them in rusted gold.

"No add-ons there?" Zoya prods playfully, nudging him with her shoulder. "I expected a 'but' or something along those lines, at least."

"No add-ons," Din says, restraining a grin. "Don't get cocky about it."

"Oh, I definitely will."

Bay three-five isn't far from the cantina; they reach it within a few minutes, and soon they're passing the spot where he'd told her his name and she'd said it for the first time, and then the door's sliding open before them, revealing the passageway towards the landing pad the Razor Crest sits upon.

"Okay, I want to see the child before we leave," Zoya says as they enter, and he stops dead before her so abruptly that she walks right into his back. Stumbling away, she blinks. "Din? What's wrong?"

His heart skips a beat. I can't get used to that. "What do you mean, 'we?'"

"I'm coming with you. Obviously." Zoya raises a brow as he turns to face her, wondering what the problem is. "I don't trust him. You're not going alone."

"I can take care of myself," Din says. "I've been doing it for a long time before you showed up. I think I'll be okay now."

Her jaw hardens. "Doesn't mean I'm not going anyway." She steps around him without another word, striding down the hallway without another look back, hair falling in front of her face. She rakes an annoyed hand through it as his voice comes from behind her.

"You're so stubborn."

Zoya spins. "Me? Stubborn. Look who's talking." Her voice is incredulous, and it takes everything within her to remain level headed, her quick temper rising to high levels in a matter of seconds.

"Are you saying you're not stubborn?" he says flatly, walking forward until he's standing right above her. "Because that would be hilarious."

"You're not laughing."

"No, I'm not."

Zoya releases a breath, loosening the tensed muscles in her jaw. "Are we really going to argue about this?"

"Depends."

"On?"

One of his shoulders lifts casually, the passage's dim lighting reflecting on the Beskar. "Whether or not you admit that you're stubborn."

She snorts. "Shut up, Din. Let's just go."

Something light dances across his chest, and he loosely catches Zoya's hand when she turns to leave. "Are you going to admit it? Or do I have to make you?" Her mouth opens and shutters closed, nothing coming out of it. Her eyes fix onto his visor; not for the first time, the Mandalorian wishes things were different, that he could take it off for her. "Well?" he says, when the silence has gone on a beat too long.

"Guess you'll have to make me."

Her hand slips from his before he has time to think of a response, and she's disappearing down the hallway in front of him, emerging out into the light on the landing pad. When Din catches up to her, the mechanic is out of sight, leaving them free to climb the ramp into the belly of the ship without worrying about her watching them with any sort of curiosity.

Din ascends the ramp first, looking around inside as Zoya comes up behind him, impatient as always.

"She's not here. Get him out for a second."

"Hold your fucking fathiers," he grumbles, pressing the button beside the enclosed compartment.

"I just want to see him," she persists, as he freezes, something cold falling around his shoulders. Zoya tries to step onto her toes to see around him and get a look at their child, but he's too tall. "Din, what's wrong?" Her voice turns soft, unsure, and panic begins to unfurl hooked claws in her stomach, turning her anxiety on its head. "Is everything okay?"

Din whirls to her, heart in his throat. "He's gone."

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

toro can choke
(and so can jj)