indebted. [din djarin x reader]

arrival.

Whispers follow you the moment you arrive on Nevarro, trailing Greef Karga like a toy on a string. You haven't been there a full day when he pulls you into a cantina, gives you a holopad, and says, "Take notes." And off he goes, about his business. Now and then, he'll look over his shoulder to make sure you're keeping up. When he's satisfied, he looks away, and you become a shadow again. That's when you become more aware of the whispers than ever.

"Karga's new errand girl..." You hear from some distant corner, but it's difficult to hear much else over the cantina's traffic. "...pretty sure he... only here to... doubt she... Karga will have to... The Mandalorian won't be..."

Mandalorian? The unfamiliar word hits your ear like a bullet to the brain. That's not much, admittedly. In such a crowded space, you're sure to hear words you don't know from languages you can't even name; but something about this word grabs your attention and sits heavy in your stomach.

Nevermind that. Karga's interviewing a potential new Guild member, and you're taking notes. But you haven't written anything down in five minutes, and Karga notices. He's called your name twice now without an answer. You jump the third time, and Karga sighs. "If you're not gonna take notes, could you at least make yourself useful and get us some drinks from the bar?"

With a nod, you rise from your seat and walk to the bar, pretending to ignore the stares that follow you. You get it. Karga goes off-planet for two weeks and comes back with some nervous-looking girl and no explanation for her. People are curious. Still, you can't help but feel on edge. Especially when you notice how many people don't bother to hide the fact that they're staring. Especially when you notice how many times the words "errand girl" and "Mandalorian" pop up side-by-side in snippets of all the different conversations.

After the drinks are ordered, a man with a gleam in his eye slides uncomfortably close to you. "You're Karga's errand girl, yes?" It's the same voice that discussed you earlier. He's got an accent you can't place, and a crooked smile like he has no interest in being friends.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but keep quiet. You aren't interested in being friends, either.

"You know he's hiring you for the Mandalorian?" the man presses when you don't answer. "He'll probably make you get Mando in a good mood. Get him to take more pucks."

Cringing, you turn fully away from the man, giving him the back of your head to talk to.

The man wheezes out a laugh. "Good luck! You're pretty, but not pretty enough to change Mando's mind, I think. You'll freeze him out like that, anyway. Kriff, maybe you'll freeze each other out! Hard to get with someone when you can't see their face."

The drinks you ordered are placed on the counter, and you whisk them away before you can hear another word. There's a sick feeling settling deep in your chest. Settling in right next to the new word... "Mandalorian." Karga has made the particularities of your arrangement abundantly mysterious, but he wouldn't stoop that low. Or you think he wouldn't, but you can't be sure. He seemed safer than the man you were almost stuck with. But safer doesn't necessarily mean safe.

The notion chews you up until the cantina is all but empty, and Karga is reviewing your work. It's the only time you've had all day to ask questions, and you jump at the chance. "Who's the Mandalorian?"

Karga looks up from the holopad with a furrowed brow and looks back down as he answers. "Mando's my best hunter. Why?"

"I dunno," you answer with a shrug. "I just get the impression that... That I'm supposed to know who he is." And you'd had that feeling before the confrontation at the bar. The second you heard the word Mandalorian, it jumped at you like it was supposed to be important to you. It's one of those gut feelings that you get every once in a while that you know you're supposed to listen to.