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Cheers erupt from within the small, half-enclosed bar as the three approach, a complete flip from how it had been during their first visit. A crowd is gathered around two figures, connected with a glowing cord of crackling orange energy pulling from circular ports hooked onto the fighters' belts. It seems to not let either of the duo get too far out of the other's reach, containing them in the makeshift circle that the spectators have formed around them.
Din and Zoya wind around the opposite side of the bar, and as she peers over the top of the crowd, one of the fighters—a woman—comes into view for a brief moment. Zoya recognizes her instantly as Cara and grins brightly.
"She's right there," she says.
Din nods shortly, and his fingers close around her wrist abruptly a split second later, tugging her out of the way and into his chest as one of the patrons observing the fight stumbles backward drunkenly, spilling his drink across the wooden floorboards. Zoya nearly falls as they collide, but Din steadies her swiftly, fingers curling around the sweep of her waist.
"Thanks," Zoya breathes, all too aware of his hand placement and what had been happening the last time he'd touched her in the same spot.
Din releases her, too soon, and the phoenix rising in her chest lowers its wings. "I've got you."
"I know," she murmurs.
As they reach the thinning brink of the crowd, it's clear that Cara has already won. She's holding the crackling energy right around the other fighter's throat. Within a couple seconds, he taps where it connects to his belt and collapses to the floor groaning, the cord vanishing.
Grinning broadly, Cara raises her arms over her head. "Pay up, mudscuffers! Come on," she says as a few approach, grumbling amongst themselves. "That's mine, thank you. Thank you." Cara's eyes pass appreciatively over another woman as she hands over some money, not noticing Din and Zoya as they appear through the dispersing crowd.
"Looking for some work?" Din calls.
Her eyes flick to them immediately. She sighs, stepping forward. "Mando. And Zoya." She speaks Zoya's name with more enthusiasm, and their eyes meet.
"Cara," Zoya replies, smiling broadly. "It's good to see you."
"Good to see you, too," Cara says, reaching out to grip Zoya's forearm in greeting. "I see you're still hanging around. He hasn't bored you to death?"
