𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖇𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝔡𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔧𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫

𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

THE YELLOW CURTAINS rippled in the wind, free from the obstruction of somebody emerging from behind them. Gnawing at her lip, Sevara refocused her gaze back to the child, who's presence alone was enough to ease the hammering of her heart. She watched as he slid from his seat, tottering towards her feet with a small bowl of broth in his hands, gazing up at her. His ears twitched as he glanced towards the curtains, then back to Sevara with a curious expression. Bending down, she reached out as she ran a hand over the fine wisps of his hair, saying, "Hey, it's alright. Mando can handle himself, I'm sure of it."

The child stepped back, pulling from her touch as he made a start towards the curtains, bobbing up and down with each step he took. Sevara jumped to her feet, trailing behind the child as he pushed through the curtains, her eyes widening as the bang of metal followed by various grunts sounded. Inching towards the commotion, Sevara halted as her gaze settled on Mando getting. . . beaten by the armoured woman.

Her brows shot up, that was a first. Beside Sevara, the child slurped at his broth, alerting the two brawlers as their heads whipped towards the child, with their blasters aimed at each other's temples. Mando shifted his gaze to Sevara, sighing as he asked, "What're you doing here?"

She raised her hands in defence, looking to the child as she said, "Don't look at me, he was the one that lead me here." Sevara glanced towards the armoured woman, asking, "Did you get him down all on your own? I gotta' say, that's impressive. I've never seen anyone do that before."

The woman smiled, and up close Sevara realised that the beauty mark beneath her left eye was actually a small tattoo of the Rebel Alliance's symbol— a half circle with three prongs protruding from the top. A thought occurred to Sevara, wondering if their paths had ever crossed before.

Mando glanced from where Sevara and the child stood, to the former-rebel, asking, "You want some soup?"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"SAW MOST OF my action mopping up after Endor," the woman, who had said that her name was Cara Dune, told them. "Mostly ex-Imperial Warlords."

"Whoa," said Sevara, her gaze fixed on Cara as she continued, "that's so interesting. All I ever did was fix up ships and help out here and there on missions. But you, your duties must've required a lot of skill."

Cara shrugged, smiling as she said, "They wanted it fast and quiet. They'd send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started." She shifted her glance to Sevara, asking, "were you around for much of that?"

Her eyes widened, shaking her head as she shrunk back into her seat, replying, "No, I. . . I got caught up somewhere else."

"Lucky," she said, glancing down the bowl of soup before her, explaining, "We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for."

"How'd you end up here?" Mando asked, his head tilting slightly.

Cara gave a one-shouldered shrug, saying, "Let's just call it an early retirement. Look, I knew you were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That's why I came at you so hard."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"Well," said Cara, rising as she slid from her seat, "this has been a real treat. But unless you wanna' go another round, one of us is gonna' have to move on, and I was here first."