tritanopia | The Mandalorian

thirteen

It didn't take much longer for Fae to crash and burn. Her previous high slowly but surely slipped away like sweat from her pours over the next hour or so. And once the adrenaline she had previously been feeling wore off, Fae could barely keep her eyes open, along with her head lulling forward so her chin collided with her clavicle over and over. Each time she jolted herself back awake, it whittled away on the Mandalorian's patience; and after what felt like the fiftieth time, he finally decided he needed to move her.

His bunk would have to do, until he could fashion something else more permanent-

Permanent?

Mando was shocked at his own thoughts. Since when did he even entertain the idea of someone, anyone, staying on the ship with him? Not even Fae; her previous statement back on Nevarro about never agreeing to such a thing was technically correct, even if she was drugged when she had said it. He had never asked, just sort of acted — a rare occurrence on his part. But then again, he wasn't even completely sure he wanted her there. Just because he didn't want her to die doesn't mean he wanted her around. He wasn't used to any life, apart from that of one of solitude.

Nonetheless, there she was sat in the co-pilot seat of his ship, so she was his responsibility at that exact point in time. So he sighed deeply to himself before heaving out of his chair, stepping towards the near unconscious form, and shaking her by the shoulder slightly.

"Fae," He said her name for the first time, and she wasn't even lucid enough to hear it — it fell on deaf ears. She didn't even move. So he shook her again, slightly harder, which was...more effective. The girl shot awake, one hand snapping upwards to grip his wrist and the other lifting up to her face to shield herself.

It took a second or two longer than it should have for Fae to register that it was a highly unnecessary move. She peaked open one of her eyes, having to move her hand slightly in order to actually see, but as soon she saw her own reflection in the visor of a familiar helmet she lowered all defences at once.

"Oh, hey," She breathed out casually, "Making sure I'm not dead?"

The helmet gave her a questioning look — well, that's what Fae assumed — along with several seconds of silence consisting of the pair of them just looking at each other.

"You need to sleep," His modulated voice stated.

Fae's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, "Yes, I'm aware. That's why I was sleeping until you woke me up." While she was talking, Mando gripped around both of her forearms and forced her to stand, ignoring the snarky comment. One she stood, something fell from the inside of her jacket and clattered against the floor, metal on metal, and due to the cylindrical shape of it, rolled a little distance away before stopping.

"Oh-!" Fae exclaimed while clambering to retrieve it before he could even think about moving. Honestly, she had forgotten it was even in her pocket to begin with, hence the reason it fell. She felt his eyes on the back of her head while she shoved the weapon back where it was originally stashed away; and when she turned around, her face rested in a way as if what had just happened...well, hadn't happened.

"What was that?"

Fae took a few seconds to answer, "Just...sentimental value?" Which was a lie, "I'm not going to use it to kill you, if that's what you're asking." She explained pointedly, and then after the words left her mouth, the Mandalorian knew that topic was done being discussed.

Mando noticed she did that a lot, ignored things. As if she was running from her problems, no matter how big or small they were. Ran from everything. Which, he supposed, was fitting considering the reason he actually met her. She ran. She had even literally ran from him, twice, and he had to admit that she was pretty decent at it. But the dangerous side effect of such a way of life, is that one day you'll get tired, and everything will catch up with you — her. Or perhaps she just compressed all her feelings — plastered over them with a thick layer of sarcasm and witty comebacks. Or, maybe both. His eyes squinted at her behind his visor and he almost reached his hand up to point at her, and what she did, but she opened her mouth before he could.