The Manda-VORE-ian

You sit at a table in the back, your elbows resting on the sticky surface. In front of you sits a half-empty glass on a coaster, along with a cigarette resting on an ashtray. You don't smoke, but you pick it up now and again, flicking away the burning ash. However you do drink, and take a sip of your whiskey, on the rocks. The golden liquid burns on the way down and warms your face. You take another sip and look around the room.

You can't see that far in front of you because the fog of smoke is so thick. You mostly just make out silhouettes through bright colorful lights. The room is loud and you can feel the heavy bass of the music pounding in your chest. This is definitely not your scene, but you are here for a mission.

Just then your phone buzzes in the pocket of your leather jacket. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Getting out the device, you read the message sent by the client.

"Find that little bastard and bring him to me, y/n."

You scoff and pocket your phone, ignoring the message. Yeah, yeah. You've been told this is the place where you can find him, many witnesses have said this is where he frequents. Pervy fuck. A busty looking robot rolls by holding a tray of drinks and you steal one. Your eyes follow her as you become distracted. Her metal frame is white, but there is also some blue placed in certain areas, giving the illusion she is wearing a bra and mini skirt. She is also designed with matching blue heels and pig tails. Jenny, her name tag reads. Her metal face dons a friendly smile as she continues to roll by you, paying you no mind. You shake your head and face the stage again. Get back to work.

After waiting around for an hour or two, watching the many dancers on the stage, the crowd's excitement begins to strengthen. It must be time for the final dancer to get on stage. They always save the best dancer for last at these types of places. You keep looking around, waiting to catch sight of your person of interest, but no luck. Must not be here tonight, you think. Well, at least you got to have a few drinks and look at some fine women. There is always next time, the client who hired you will just have to wait. Along with your money owed.

With a tired sigh, you get up out of your seat, taking one last gulp of whiskey. You make your way through the crowd at the bar and towards the exit, but decide to take one last glance around just in case you might spot him on your way out. The crowd around you is going wild as the final dancer gets on stage. There's so many people you can't even see what they look like. Until some people move out of the way and you catch sign of-

Oh my god. It's him...

You push your way through the sea of sweaty bodies to get a better look. No fucking way... Waddling onto the stage was none other than your bounty. His stature was smaller than you expected, the pictures you were sent made him appear way taller. As you watched the small creature pose and dance in his red lingerie, you felt something in your chest start to warm.

This tiny being... with his green skin, sparkling black eyes, and comedically large ears... there was no way you could kill him. Baby Yoda shook his tiny little ass before he using the force to launch himself up, catching hold of the stripper pole. He spun around and the crowd went wild. You felt the corner of your lips start to curl up, a feeling of pride arising. This guy was spectacular, like nothing you had ever seen before. Your client was just going to have to get over it, because there was no way in hell you were going to let anything happen to him.

Grogu continued to spin around the pole while doing amazing moves, his tiny wrinkly body looking magnificent under the colorful lights. Money was being thrown at the stage, the crowd's cheers louder than the music playing. With determination, you manage the strength to tear yours eyes away from the scene and grab your phone, ringing your client.