𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 • din djarin

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You run the cloth over your blaster once again as your feet stay kicked up on the dashboard. Din's entering something into the navicomputer next to you. He's still getting familiar with the new ship; it's much smaller than the Razor Crest was, and rather than making room for a single pilot, it has room for two. You speak to your long-time business partner without looking away from your cleaning.

"Where're we headed?" You don't bother leaving any curiosity out of your tone. Din will make you dig hard for information if you let him.

The Mandalorian sighs and leans back in his chair, a movement you can catch out of the corner of your eye. "Tatooine."

You frown and look up from your cleaning to meet the gaze of Din's dark visor. You can envision the eyes that hide behind it, despite the fact you've only seen them twice. "Tatooine? Why?" You ponder any possible connections to the dull planet. "Cobb Vanth?"

Din shakes his helmet and looks out at hyperspace. "Fett."

You scoff at the name. "What the hell is he doing there?" You look down at your blaster again. "You'd think he'd get as far away as he could from the place where he almost died."

"You'd think." Din shrugs and crosses his arms. "I think it's got something to do with a former employer."

Your brit knits together. "The Hutts?" You look over at Din again to watch him nod slowly. "Didn't Jabba die years ago?"

"Exactly." Din checks the navicomputer again. "The coordinates Fett sent are from Jabba's palace."

You tighten your jaw and clutch the cloth in your fist. "I've got a bad feeling about this." You sigh and look at your blaster once more.

"I don't know exactly what the job is yet." Din leans forward to click around the controls a few times. You know better than to ask if he knows what he's doing. It would pour too much salt in the wound of the lost Crest. "If you're not interested once we hear it, you don't have to go."

You scoff. "And let you go on a job without me? Please." You tuck your blaster back in your holster and toss the cloth between your hands. Your voice is softer as you speak on a more sensitive topic. "Aren't we supposed to be meeting with Bo-Katan soon?"

Din tenses enough for you to notice. His answer is offered after a long pause. "Eventually." The word is gruff—a kind warning. You heed it as you let him change the subject. "We're nearly there." He gestures to the navicomputer.

"Already?" You hum, impressed. "I always forget how much faster this little ship is compared to—..." You cut yourself off and clutch the cloth in your fists. After you take a deep breath, you dare to speak again. "What kind of job do you think this'll be?"

Din leans forward to click around the controls again. "I'm not sure." His helmet glances over at you. "Since it's Fett... I have a feeling it won't be easy."

You give your partner a mischievous smile. "Nothing fun ever comes easy."

Din huffs and shakes his helmet before he takes the ship out of hyperspace. You hold back a sigh at the sight of Tatooine. The last time you and Din were there, you thought he'd been eaten by a krayt dragon never to be seen again. It's never been the most pleasing planet in the galaxy to you.

As the ship soars through Tatooine's atmosphere, you get your things together, equipping yourself for whatever awaits you at the palace. It's a place you've heard of—many times—but never thought you would ever step into. If you and Din didn't trust Boba so much, you'd be telling him to turn the ship in the other direction, no matter how long the infamous Hutt's been dead.