What's a Mandalorian? || Din Djarin

7|Tipsy|

Back at the ship now, we are both a little tipsy from the liquor. Tensions have cooled after the walk. The world around me rocks back and forth and stutters as if it's buffering every time I move. Mando seems pretty normal, but he's talking more than usual, which is strange for him.

"I'll be right back," he announces as I'm climbing into the ship. He turns and walks behind a few trees. He adjusts his armor a little. Then, I hear liquid falling on a tree. Oh.

I duck my head into the cockpit of the ship and recline my seat all the way down. I plop myself onto the seat. I remember I packed a small bottle of desert wine in my bag. I rustle through my bag of belongings and pull out the tiny bottle. I crack the seal on it and take a swig. 

Mando comes back to the ship, climbs up and drops down into his seat. I hold the bottle up to him and tell him to take a sip. He grabs the bottle and brings it up to his face. He looks at me in the mirror, then moves the mirror so I can't see him. He lifts his helmet up only enough to get the bottle to his mouth. He takes one long sip, caps it, and hands it back to me.

"I never drink anymore," he admits to me. "I did a lot when I was younger, but then I had the kid to take care of. Haven't had a drink in a very long time. Looks like I've lost my tolerance," he chuckles at himself. He's much more talkative when he's had some. It's actually nice.

"Man I miss the days of being young and stupid," he recalls.

"How old are you?" I ask, curious. I have no idea how old he is. He could be in his 20's like me. He could also be, like, 60. I have no idea.

"In Mandalore time, I think I'm 32. But in Dantooine time, I'm probably, like, 28. Give or take. We should all start going by the same time schedule. Every planet having their own time is stupid. You're like 20, right?"

"26," I reply.

"26?! Damn well you're looking really good for your age," he teases. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended. Is he calling me pretty or old?

I pull my cloak over myself and snuggle into my seat. This is certainly not very comfortable, but really anything is comfortable when you're on your way to being drunk.

"I mean, no, I mean you're pretty but I thought you were younger than you are. I'm not trying to, like, hit on you or anything, but I'm just- I just wanted to let you know..." 

My cheeks blush furiously. Did he just say I'm pretty? 

"But just, like, don't take it the wrong way I would never-"

"Thank you, Mando," I cut him off. He goes silent. He might've forgotten I'm actually here listening to him babble on. The world continues to whoosh and wobble and buffer around me. 

Mando fidgets with the bandolier hung around his torso. He's taking the ammunition canisters in and out of their designated loops, and twirling each little cylinder in his fingers each time. He does this for a few minutes, then continues his babble.

"Did you ever have a boyfriend back on Dantooine? I mean, you worked in a tavern and there's all kinds of guys who come in there and of course they wanna talk to the nice bartender and buy her a drink and look at her and stuff and I'm sure that you were always bombarded with guys and they never cut you a break and it must have been pretty annoying all the time when you're just trying to work and make some money but you're always being bothered by guys and I can't imagine-"

"No," I respond to his first question. Most guys on Dantooine were either much older than me or they were just passing through. No guys ever really caught my interest. Not until some shiny metal dude came in one night...