masquerade | din djarin

0.5

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THE BOND

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[ 7 ABY ] 

It was plain to see that Rowan needed a reason to trust the Mandalorian again since she did not know he was the same boy she spent all of her waking hours with so long ago. She had practically interrogated him on the ride back from their bounty, and yet when he asked her questions in return she answered shortly or skirted them altogether. 

The Mandalorian thought it was easier to establish a new relationship with her than to tell her who he truly was. Though he would never admit it, the Mandalorian was afraid of how she would react if he told her the truth. Trust was something that needed to be won, and it would not be easy, especially since it was lost when they were both ten years old and were separated. He would do anything to keep Rowan now rather than risk losing her again.

Rowan did not understand the reasoning for Greef pushing her and the Mandalorian together for this bounty. Well, the said bounty was an ex-Imperial assassin who worked with Fennec Shand, the best in the galaxy. He was not difficult to catch in stature, but obviously in strategy. Two minds---and two good shots---had worked much better than one in this case, though neither escaped completely unscathed.

Greef sent them, together, after someone else, and again they took the Razor Crest on the tail of yet another criminal. Once they had settled on the planet where the next bounty would be, Rowan mentioned that she would need to clean herself up---she had suffered a grazed blaster shot to the leg---and oh, it burned. The Mandalorian decided now would be the best time to try and form some kind of friendship---who knew if they would ever come across each other again after this job?

Rowan was first off the ship, medkit in hand, and settled herself near the bottom of the hatch on the ground. There was a kind of serenity she found in being outside; it had always calmed her down and helped her focus, no matter the weather, especially when she was younger and still training. Not much had changed since then in Rowan's desire for peace. 

The Mandalorian followed her, and he sat down on the incline, close to the edge, close to her. Rowan, sensing his presence, peered up at him. She paused in her cleaning and picked up the medkit. 

"Where are you going?" the Mandalorian asked.

Rowan plopped herself down behind him, farther up the ramp, and unpacked the medical supplies again. "Right here."

"Why?"

"Because you have gross wounds that need to be cleaned."

The Mandalorian snorted. He couldn't help himself. From what he remembered, Rowan was always very blunt. She had a tendency to choose words that had no business being funny but still made him laugh anyway because of the way she said them. Rowan was never really gentle with her words, always hasty and getting them out in a rush. Her actions were the complete opposite; everything she did was measured and careful, never impulsive.

Rowan found the wound she had spotted earlier, near his pauldron in a place on his arm that was not protected by the beskar. She pulled out the supplies needed to clean it. Her touch was what surprised the Mandalorian the most. Rowan gave off a hard demeanor, rough around the edges. Yet when she fixed his wounds, her hands were nimble and gentle, lightly but efficiently working with the medical supplies. 

After a settled, but this time not awkward, silence, the Mandalorian asked Rowan, "Where are you from?" A question that was simple, but not too prying. It had helped his case that he had essentially saved her life in more ways than one on the last bounty---beskar comes in handy often. He hoped that her suspicion and mistrust had somewhat subsided at least because of that.