we were infinite - the mandalorian

e i g h t e e n

THE NEXT MORNING, Mia found herself lying awake unusually early. Her mind replayed the things that were said the night before.

Did she really enjoy killing? Was there some part of her that felt a sadistic desire?

Her long hair lay sprawled on her pillow as she watched the ceiling of her small room. She couldn't recall how long she lay there, but it was a while.

Her mind cast to the moments she had no choice but to kill. In each instance, she did so in self-defence, or because the other guys deserved it. Thankfully, she couldn't recall a moment where she had murdered for the sake of pleasure. It had all been for a purpose.

Perhaps her farmer blood hadn't expected to become so adjusted to the life of a bounty hunter.

She didn't enjoy the kill, but she enjoyed the satisfaction that came about when she did it for the right reasons. When it meant that she'd saved someone in the process - herself included.

Mando was right, she had a big heart. And if that meant having to kill once in a while to protect the smaller voices in the galaxy - she would gladly do so.

After what seemed like hours, the girl finally found the strength to get out the comfort of her bed and begin the day. But first, she was in desperate need of a shower.

The small cubicle in the lower deck of the ship was nothing of a luxury shower, but it did what it was there to do.

So with damp hair and a placid expression, the girl approached the Mandalorian who sat fully armoured as always, polishing some of his blasters.

"Morning, 7P." She said to the small droid who gleefully rolled up to her. The Mandalorian suddenly aware of her presence.

"It's okay," she held a hand to her bandaged middle as she responded to the bleeping droid, "The pain's becoming bearable."

The blue droid extended out her morning pills which she grudgingly took. She hated the idea of being a patient, it made her feel weak and helpless at a time when she needed to be unstoppable.

As he cleaned the barrels of his blasters, Mando felt himself looking at the way her damp hair curled at the ends. Even injured and tired, with no effort at all, she managed to look...exquisitely natural.

"Morning asshole." She muttered before swallowing her last pill, glancing in his direction with narrow eyes.

"Still pissed?" He said.

"Actually," she sighed, "I think I might have overreacted a little last night."

He scoffed, "That's the understatement of the millennium."

Her face set hard. She wasn't one for apologising, so she had expected a much more thankful approach.

"But you were still out of line." She clenched her fists by her side.

He set his things down and approached her slowly, "Look," he held his hands up, "We both had a difference in opinion. I won't mention it again."

He stopped in front of her, "Good." She said.

He looked down at her clenched fists before meeting her eyes once more, "Then why do you look like you want to beat the crap out of me?"

"Because you never admit that you're wrong." Her voice laced with anger.

"That's because I'm right."

That's all he had to say. As she stared at the forever frustrating, placid expression of his Mandalorian helmet, he only had to speak those words to send her over the edge.