Vibrant Eyes | Din Djarin

47: so

Kuiil, apparently, knew someone who might've known someone who might've known someone.

As far as leads went, it was almost nothing. But as far as leads for them went, it was the best they'd gotten in just under half a year. So they bid him farewell and thanks after a week of long days in the sun of Arvala-7 and went to meet their new informants.

They met Kuiil's contact on a small, almost deserted Outer Rim planet. Then with his information, they followed the trail to a man on a neighboring one. The moment Din set the Razor Crest to land, he knew this place wouldn't be one to mess around with.

And as he stood outside under thick blankets of yellow clouds covering the skies, Ira's hand in his, and the kid's new transport hovering at his side, he began to regret trusting her so much.

Because, sprawled out for miles, was a planet entirely of the greedy and selfish. Gambling halls by the dozens, dirty cantina's, game houses, races, fights, money disputes. They had it all. And it reeked of it, literally. A sharp tang of metal hovering in the air with dust and sweat.

Instinctively, Din wanted the kid to remain inside where he couldn't be harmed. He didn't want Ira in harm's way, either. But realistically he would never take this choice from her. He didn't need to anyway. Ira was dangerous beyond imagination so, in reality, he probably should have thought of their safety from her instead. Even just the thought of a single scratch upon her skin made him cringe, regardless.

Din just wasn't used to caring about someone else enough to worry about them. While Ira wasn't used to someone fearing for her, he wasn't used to being the one with the fear. In the past, that was not who he was. To all but Ira he had always been the stoic, fearless Mandalorian.

Which made it so ironic that she saw him more than anyone ever had when she was also the one who never truly did.

So he regretted trusting her enough to care. Enough to fear for her when they entered the crime-ridden town side by side. With Grogu floating between them, Din led the way into the dirtied streets. Ira followed easily, her head held high and gaze pinned forward as her hand rested on the top of the kid's carrier.

Dark figures and shifty eyes watched them pass. But none of them were their informant so they kept going, paying them little to no mind. Just in case, though, he made sure to close Grogu's carrier as an extra precaution.

In no time at all, Din ducked into a dimly lit cantina. Grogu remained at his side as he weaved through the rowdy patrons packed inside but when he looked—Ira was gone. He doused the flickering flame of fear in trust and continued on without preamble. It'd been awhile since she last pulled her disappearing trick.

In no time at all, Din found their informant tucked away in the only empty booth in the place. He sat alone, deep blue skin blending into the shadows and dark beady eyes staring endlessly into a glass of glowing spotchka. He downed the glass in one gulp as Din paused to stand before him.

Slowly, he placed the glass to the table and they listened to the solid clink amid the din of the cantina. Then, even slower, he lifted those beady black eyes up to look at him. They seemed... soulless. But both filled with life and death, endless nothingness and a cruel glint of light.

Certainly not someone they wanted to piss off and let live. They—

They? When had it become a they? It was always a him, an I, a me. Din, alone. 

But he supposed things changed when one wasn't alone. Even without his realizing it, so much had changed. He feared most of it.

Loved almost all of it.