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005. AID AND ABET
( —To assist someone, usually in a mischievous or illegal activity. )
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"They're quite adorable."
"They say their thanks," the amused farmer translated for her from Jawaese.
In these few days, Myra had seemed like a solemn person to the Mandalorian. Focused on keeping her distance, teasing and obviously, too seductive for her own good. Only now, he was seeing her laughing, golden eyes wide and glistening and the sound that he could trace back from a mile away. It was soft, friendly and hysterical if he thought about it.
He wondered how she kept changing her clothes without having nothing on her. On that morning, she adorned a close-fitting, satin gold dress that had two long slits that went up the sides to allow movement. Her dark hair that was usually left to cascade down her back was pulled to a slack braid behind her back and the exposing apparel showing off the array of tattoos that encompassed down her back and front.
He blamed the Ichor or whatever the hell she followed, for the attraction that she amassed. If he was ever feeling anything, it was because of bewitching and sorcery.
"They, they... belong... to me!" Mando tried to speak their language when they spoke a negotiation for his parts but struggling in the bending tongue. The clutter of Jawa that surrounded him began to laugh, a high and cold cackle that pierced his ears.
"You speak terrible Jawa," they continued to cackle in their mother tongue as one spoke for the rest. "You sound like a Wookie."
"You understand this?" He bit out when they teased him, using the flamethrowers on his right vambrace to spit fire out at one of them. Myra gasped in horror, springing forward to tug back his arm to cease his motions.
