Star Girl | Din Djarin

05 | breakfast

TAWL, OUTER RIM
Three standard weeks after Tatooine...

When the Mandalorian returns three weeks later as promised he doesn't recognize his own home. There are now blankets on his bed and a colourful hand woven rug in the living area accompanied by a self-made sofa with pillows and crates as its base. The fresher's curtain is no longer filled with holes and the place is no longer filled with dust.

There's a small potted planet in the middle of his table with some purple flowers resting inside. The cupboards actually have food in them and there's a new pile of shirts on the crate he uses as a wardrobe.

It looks like a home.

Wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by pillows on his mattress lies the girl he's been thinking about since leaving.

He lowers himself to one knee, his brand new shoulder cover catching the light as he moves. With a gentle hand to her shoulder he shakes her awake.

She jumps and grabs his wrist in a harsh grip, then relaxes when she recognises the helmet. 'You're back.'

'I am. You're still here.'

She sits up quickly pulling the soft blanket with her. 'Did you want me gone? I can-'

'You can stay.'

He stands and she sees his helmet move to look around the room, 'I didn't steal it. If that's what you're thinking.'

He hums, 'Then how did you get it?'

'Pulled a page from your book, kindness.'

He turns to her slowly, 'You stole it.'

She hides her smirk but turns to remake the bed and set the pillows nicely. 'If you're caught I want no part.'

'I won't get caught.'

He watches her as she pulls open a cabinet and takes out some fruit, 'Breakfast?'

'I'm good.'

'Does it take you long to travel? From Coruscant?'

'Few days.'

'Do you have a ship?' He nods in reply, his eyes remain on her as she cuts up some fruit, he realises then it's his knife that she'd taken a few days ago and his hand shoots to where he'd clipped it to his thigh that morning. He finds the holster empty and shakes his head. 'Are you a good pilot? I'm a great pilot. The best in the galaxy.'

'You ever done the Kessel run?' She shakes her head, 'Then don't talk about piloting skills until you've done it fast. And successful.'

'I'm sure I could. What's the fastest?'

'Twelve parsecs.'

'I could do it in eleven.'

She hears him chuckle and finds herself laughing under her breath too. 'Aren't you going to take all that off? Relax before you're off again? Are you leaving already?'

'You ask a lot of questions.' It's more an observation of amusement than one of annoyance.

She shrugs her shoulders at him, passing his knife back to him once it's wiped clean of the sticky fruit juice which coats her hands. 'There's a cleaner way to do that you know.'

He steps beside her and takes the fruit, it's round, pink with orange leaves striking out of the top and bright blue roots still hanging from the bottom. He holds it gently and eases the knife into the skin then slices it down four times. Once he's made each cut he pushes the knife into the top and they all fall apart in equal slices, not a single sticky drop covering his gloves.