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Noise spills out from the door of the cantina like a bucket overturned, washing across the toes of Zoya's boots as she follows the Mandalorian inside. She keeps so close on his heels that his cape flicks her shins, but she can't move back; something about Mos Eisley has gotten under her skin, and every sound begins to pull nerves through her body.
The room is mostly subdued; only a few patrons stand at the counters whilst others dot the tables littered across the floor. The scent of alcohol and grease hangs thick in the air, and she's almost tempted to hold her nose as the smell tumbles over her.
The Mandalorian starts to walk towards the counter, unaware of a young man in the corner watching them. He has dark hair and hooded eyes, and she might even think he was handsome if not for what he does next.
His eyes meet Zoya's for a brief second, and a beckoning smirk slinks across his mouth as he makes it as obvious as he can that he's looking her up and down. Zoya merely curls a lip at him in response, showing him her teeth as if she's ten times his size. All it serves to do is make him chuckle, and irritated, Zoya turns away, increasing her pace so she falls into step at her companion's side, feeling his eyes on her back.
"D—" Zoya catches herself, wary of using his name in earshot of others. "Mando. What are we doing here?"
"You'll see." He hears how she refrains from speaking his name aloud and silently thanks her for her thoughtfulness as they approach the bar, other creatures sitting around the cantina chittering to each other. "Hey droid," Din says, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the counter, "I'm a hunter. I'm looking for some work."
"Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine," it replies mechanically, a makeshift metal flap moving up and down on its head to simulate natural jaw movement. It only succeeds in making the droid look creepy, in Zoya's opinion.
"I'm not looking for Guild work," he says lowly.
The droid isn't moved, staring at them with blank, expressionless eyes. "I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation."
"Think again, tin can," a voice calls from behind them.
Zoya pivots and freezes as her eyes fall upon the same man who'd looked her up and down. Fingernails slide down her spine, raising the hairs on her arms, instinctively telling her something's off about him. "You," she mutters. The Mandalorian glances at her curiously, confused by the dark tone her voice takes on.
