- 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦.
For as long as Kasia Torelo can remember, luck and survival have gone hand-in-hand.
Kasia was only seven years old when the Empire attacked her planet. Singled out for their telep...
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"Holy fuck Din, how the hell are you able to stand up with this thing on your head?"
From underneath the helmet—though if one were being entirely honest it was little more than a glorified sack—that Kas had bought on their last fueling stop and roughly forced into his hand with a demand that he put it on and finally let her try on his godsdamned Beskar helmet, Din rolled his eyes, giving a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort.
Language, he reminded her silently. She dutifully ignored him.
They were situated in the main area of the Razor Crest, and after enduring Kasia's demands to try on Din's armor for so long, he was now watching in amusement as she struggled to balance the helmet atop her head without falling over.
"I mean Gods Beskar-brains, you must have the strongest fucking neck muscles in the galaxy to keep from falling over anytime you put this thing on," Kasia continued, her back muscles straining from trying to stand upright. She squinted through the visor in what she approximated to be his general direction. "And how the hell are you even able to see through this thing? It's so damned foggy I can't tell if I'm looking at you or the kid."
"At both of us, actually," the Mandalorian informed her, glancing down at the child in question who rested comfortably in his arms and was peering in an almost inquisitive manner at Kasia. In response to her question, he gave a short, nondescript shrug, "I guess you're just not cut out to be a Mandalorian," he teased.
He found the way that he could practically feel her glower from beneath the helmet slightly disconcerting.
"You're damn lucky I can't see shit out of this thing and am too afraid to hit the kid to throw the Limmie ball at you," Kasia stated flatly as she turned towards again towards the mirror she had made a point to install in the room—she thought it gave the space a rather homey touch and besides, if she was going to be the only visibly human person on the spacecraft, she was damn well going to make sure she could see her own face.
"Still," she mused as she scooted closer to the glass, squinting through the fogged-up visor to admire the reflection, "the aesthetic of the helmet definitely makes up for the other negative aspects."
"Hmm," Din responded, his voice unamused even as Kas literally could sense his amusement. "Are you done playing dress up now, or?"
She looked over her shoulder to glare at him once again, smiling in satisfaction a moment later as she realized she had just done his cool, silent, unimpressed glower. Gods this helmet was cool.
"Hand me your disintegration gun and then we can be done," Kasia bargained.
Only if you promise to shoot me with it, was Din's silent quip as he indeed handed her his rifle. Also, I told you it was called an Amban phase-pulse blaster.
"Ha ha," Kasia deadpanned as she snatched the weapon from his hand, spinning back to the mirror and posing with it. "And I told you I don't really give a shit what the official name is—disintegration gun is much better anyways."
