Lunch consisted of a simple yet flavorful vegetable soup and fresh bread. It's a hit with the little one, and even Mando finds it pleasing. All he has to do is lift his helmet just the slightest in order to take a sip. You'd be lying if you said you didn't try to take a peek at him. All you could really see was his chin and the bit of scruff that clung to it, nothing more.

With lunch finished, you decide it's time to redress Mando's wound. While the bacta patch was good at keeping the wound clean, it still needed to be replaced every so often in order for the healing process to continue.

You allow him to walk on his own to the guest room, watching to make sure he wasn't limping. His durability amazes you. People his age usually weren't up and walking by day two of recovery, depending on their injury or sickness. You found that they were the ones who often complained the most.

The child watches with a curious gaze as you peel away the bacta patch and apply a bit of antiseptic to a piece of gauze. You gently dab around the wound to clean up any excess blood before setting the gauze aside. He groans a little in discomfort, but remains stoic. You easily apply a fresh bacta patch to his skin, thus continuing the healing process from where it left off.

With your attention split between the wound and the child, there wasn't much room left in your mind to fill with thoughts of him. He was quiet for the most part and simply watched you work.

At least he seems to be in good spirits.

You're in the process of helping him reattach his armor when you notice that his beskar cuirass is still smudged with blood. He probably had a polishing kit on his gunship, but it's too far away now.

"Want me to clean this?" You ask him, holding up the cuirass for him to see.

He shifts his gaze from the child to you, seemingly surprised by your offer, though his body language says otherwise. "No. I can do it myself."

You respect his choice and set the cuirass down beside him on the bed. "Is there a certain way you're supposed to do it? Sorry, I don't know much about Mandalorian culture."

"It's fine." He says as he brushes the tips of his fingers over the beskar. "There is a certain way, though it varies among individuals. This armor... it means a lot to me. I take great pride in its upkeep."

"I understand." You reply with a nod. "I might have a polishing kit in my room. Want me to check?"

He lifts his gaze from the cuirass to look at you. Again, you wonder what expression he's hiding under his helmet. It's hard to tell what emotion he's exhibiting based on his voice alone.

"I would appreciate that." His voice passes softly through his helmet's modulator.

You smile at him. "Alright. I'll be right back."

The child coos at you as you head over to the door. You give him a little wave before stepping out into the hall. Excitement crackles through your veins as you hurry to your room. You're eager to see how a Mandalorian takes care of their armor.

It was apparently a special practice in their culture, so you felt honored to be able to witness it. Any other person who's seen a Mandalorian might not be as excited. To them, it was just typical armor upkeep. To you, it was the chance of a lifetime. You didn't live a life of bounty hunting and thus had no real need for armor. Your investments went towards new farm equipment and seeds instead.

You couldn't help but wonder if your excitement stemmed from your feelings for him. They weren't quite romantic but not platonic either. Or maybe they were romantic. You wouldn't know, your last relationship was hardly an example of romance. It left you with more than just hurt feelings and damaged self esteem.

I should probably focus on finding that kit...

It only took a few minutes of rummaging around to find the kit. Thankfully, it was still in good shape. You hardly had any use for it anyway, considering your line of work.

He thanks you for retrieving the kit as you hand it to him, then opens the lid to examine the contents. Meanwhile, you pull up a stool and lean against the wall, wanting to give him space.

"Could you hold the kid?" His voice startles you out of your thoughts. "I don't want him eating this stuff."

"Sure." You reply, rising to your feet and approaching the bed.

You scoop the child into your arms and carry him back over to your stool. He whines and reaches for Mando, which makes you chuckle a bit.

"He's busy. Let him work." You soothe him, gently stroking one of his ears.

Mando positions his cuirass in his lap, then dampens a cloth from the kit with some water from the glass on the nightstand. After wiping away the smudges of blood, he sets the cloth aside and uses a small sponge to scoop up a healthy amount of polish. He moves the sponge in small circular motions across the surface of the beskar, polishing every inch.

He was meticulous in his work. His hand moves fluidly and without hesitation, like he's done this a thousand times. Considering his lifestyle, he probably has.  You find yourself mesmerized by the act, so much so that you hardly notice the child nibbling hungrily on your finger. Only when you feel his tiny teeth on your skin do you snap back to reality.

"How's your pain?" You ask as a way to distract yourself. "Give me a number between one and ten, with ten being the worst pain you've ever felt and one being nothing more than an ache."

He doesn't answer right away, still focusing on the cuirass. Once he's satisfied with the way the beskar gleams in the light, he puts the kit away and reattaches the cuirass to his flight suit.

"I'd say..." He mulls over it for a moment, letting out a soft grunt as he shifts his weight on the bed. "...a five."

You raise a brow, unconvinced. "Is that an honest answer?"

"Maybe six."

"Okay." You sigh and sit back. "Since I don't have any medication here, I'll need to go into town to get some."

"You don't need to do that. I can handle the pain." He says.

"Well, I consider it inhumane to deprive someone of medication when they're obviously in pain. Even if they're a big, tough Mandalorian." You counter, narrowing your eyes at him as you stare into the depths of his visor. "Whether you want the meds or not, I still need to restock."

He sighs heavily in defeat, as if he knows it's no use arguing with you.

"Fine. How long will you be gone?" He asks, which makes you wonder if he's worried about your safety. His tone certainly suggests it, but you can't be sure.

"It's a short trip into town. I should be back in twenty minutes or so." You rise from your stool and bring the child over to him. "You can handle yourself for that long, can't you?"

Based on the way he huffs at you, you figure he doesn't appreciate your teasing. He reluctantly accepts the child from you and sets him down in his lap.

"I'll take that as a yes." You say, smiling at him. As you go to leave, you glance over your shoulder. "Just relax and get some rest. I'll be back soon."

•
•
•

Guthram's marketplace bustled with activity despite the heat. You're glad you made sure to grab your hat before leaving the house. The sun was brutal on the body without proper protection.

Kirsten was your supplier of painkillers. She bought crates of them from off-world and sold them to the locals since the senator of Pann City wouldn't allow anything of that nature to pass through the border. Without her, you would have to find another, less desirable way to get painkillers.

As you walk down the busy street, you notice a group of people gathered around a table under a shade. They were sharing drinks and conversing among themselves, each bearing a worried expression. One of them was your uncle, Jako.

He calls you over once he spots you. There's a glass of alcohol in his hand.

"What's going on?" You ask as you approach the table.

"There's rumors that the Empire is stirring." He says, taking a long sip from his glass. "People have reported seeing troopers on different planets, but none of them are confirmed sightings."

Mando was right.

You slip your bag from your shoulders and sit down in the chair next to him. "Where did you hear this?"

"Radio chatter. Strangely enough, it went silent only moments after the reports were made. Someone's shutting them out."

"They don't want anyone to know..." You mumble to yourself. This was bad. Very bad. "Anything close to here?"

Jako scratches his beard, then finishes off his drink in a few gulps. "Closest one was on Karyn, but that's still pretty far out. I think we'll be okay."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up." You tell him as you stand and retrieve your bag. "I'm headed home. Tell Tria I said hello."

"Speaking of your aunt..."

You stop in your tracks. She told him about Mando. There's no way she didn't. Still, no one knew that the Empire was after him and you intended to keep it that way, for his sake and yours.

"She told me you've got a Mandalorian in your care." Jako says after a moment of silence. His stare burns into the center of your back. "You better watch your back. I know what those people are capable of. They're nothin' but trouble."

You force down the swell of anger that rises in your chest and take a deep breath. "I can handle him."

Before he can say anything more, you walk away and head towards the edge of town. Dozens of questions buzz around in your brain, though Mando and the child dominate your thoughts.

You had to keep them safe, but how?