Promises are made to be broken. Deals are made to be kept.
[The Mandalorian Season 1-2]
I do not own the Mandalorian or any of the Star Wars Universe characters/settings. I own Alora and her unique story.
Prequel to Promises and Deals --> Truth...
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"Would you relax?" Alora huffs as she pulls on her dress, taking a look in the mirror in front of her and grinning at herself, happy with the way she managed to conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes. "My contact said this Arrik guy knows where to find Mandalorians. I know what I'm doing."
She knows Mando is leaning against the door to the room, probably with the baby just beside him. He had graciously given her free range of the planet to gather what materials she may need. Thankfully, she had found just the right shop while he took care of the kid; he most definitely did not like when she returned and told him he'd have to remain with the Child for a bit longer.
"So why am I supposed to stay here?" Mando asks through the door.
Alora sighs and shakes her head before putting on her cloak and wrapping it tightly around her sparkling dress. For a planet as polluted as Taris, they sure do have a vibrant nightlife—vibrant enough for a woman like Alora to blend in easily once underground.
Opening the door, she hides her smirk as Mando stumbles back before righting himself quickly. "You're staying here because we don't want to spook the guy," she replies, flicking her hair back. After having been in such terrible clothing for so long, the fancy outfit hidden beneath feels like a familiar hug, as do the small traditional buns in her hair. It gives her a boost of confidence, especially when she sees the beskar helmet dip down. "My contact says this guy knows the Outer Rim like the back of his hand. Apparently, he had some tight ties with the Hutts."
"Still don't understand why you're going alone."
Alora runs her eyes down his armor. "Have you seen yourself? The plan is to blend in, not draw attention. The club'll be filled with low-lifes and petty thieves, and probably some killers—"
"Not helping—"
"But you know I can handle myself." She arches a brow and crosses her arms. "If it gets bad, I'll come back."
Mando stares at her, and she wishes she could just read his mind. After a moment, he crosses his arms with a sigh. "I don't like this plan."
"Never thought you would, but we gotta find your Mandalorian friends, right?" Alora's eyes dart to the Child standing on the ground. Picking him up, she tickles his stomach as she says, "This is the best way to do that. Trust my contact's information, and trust me."
"I do." Mando clears his throat. "I don't trust the planet."
"I don't either." Letting the Child go, she raises the hood of her cloak and covers the bottom half of her face with a thick cloth. "I'm off. Keep the kid safe, please."
"You taking your glowing swords?"
Alora pauses before the open hull. "Hell no. Like I said, this place is full of bad news. Those weapons aren't coming out again unless we gotta deal with Sith Lords."
