Lullaby | The Mandalorian

Chapter Five: AHoY tHeRE

The Mandalorian reminded her of a shadow from a scary story.

Annelise tried to stay out of his way the few 'days' they were still floating in space, awaiting for the ship to regain full power. But it was difficult, the space was small and Annelise tried to distract herself by playing with the little green baby, but the Mandalorian did not seem to like it very much when she did so. She would feel him watching from a distance, as if glaring beneath his helmet and it made her shiver with an unshed anxiety, which often prompted her to move away from the child and allow him to take him from her. He had repeatedly told her the same thing 'he did not want to listen to the kid cry when she was dropped off', but maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe it would mean he would not return her to her father. Maybe it would convince him she could be useful and the child was a good outlet...Something that made her smile and feel the darkness within her recede into something not so...grim.

The Mandalorian, she thought – was the embodiment of the Grim Reaper.

He also followed her in her wandering – she knew it was distrust. Maybe afraid she would harm the little baby, or maybe afraid she would rip the wires out again or try to take her own life once more. They were standoffish, often staring at each other across the room where she would sit on the floor to play with the baby. The child's laughter being the only thing to soften the hatred she felt radiating off of him...Like she had made his life so much harder, and she had. She had delayed them by three days at the very least.

Only when the baby slumbered on her did he allow her to keep him.

She liked it – his soft snoring, his drool even. The way he was warm against her body. A tiny emblem of light and comfort in such a darkness. She would go so far to say that she had grown fond of him in her time on the ship. He was someone to speak to and draw comfort from, while the Mandalorian sucked it right from her chest just by being there. She had felt his skin against her own, warm and bare beneath the blankets he had used to keep her alive and yet when she looked at his armor she had to remind herself there was not something like a dark cloud underneath it. He frightened her. Her heart would race when he entered the room, and she would shake from anticipation that he would harm her for some reason.

She wondered if she deserved it.

Annelise had grown up lonely, and oddly she did not feel lonely on the ship, she actually felt like she could not get a moment alone. He hovered – like a worried little fly buzzing in her ears. Not worried for her, worried she would do something stupid. But she had given up on her escape, surely he knew that. There was nowhere else to go. And she could not soften him enough to convince him to hide her – to protect her from her father. Indentured servitude did not interest him. And she had no credits to offer. So she spent her time with the child because the child was enjoyable and comforting and at least she could do that while she awaited her eventual fate.

The Mandalorian continued to hover, even though it seemed he was pretending not to.

Annelise looked down at the baby, where she sat on the floor in the cockpit behind the chairs. He had his back to them, and they had yet to move through space anymore, not quite enough restored power to do so. So he was very still, not looking at them as the baby cooed and handed her a stuffed creature. It looked ragged, and knitted – but cute nonetheless, even if the face was somewhat angry and framed by tentacles. Her mouth curved upward, as she held it in her hand and the baby cooed again, prompting her to question in a whisper, "What is it?"

She always whispered when she spoke now. It kept the Mandalorian's attention off of them and when he did not pay them attention, she could play with the child more. Her index knuckle ran between his eyes, then over his cheek and she smiled at him when he blinked rapidly in response to her touch and she hummed, "Cute little beastie."