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TRASK, OUTER-RIM
Din sighs, dropping down onto the bed in the motel, he looks up at the kid's cot, he can see the kids ears over the edge, soft little whistles leaving his mouth as he sleeps.
His hands touch his helmet but before he can lift it off there's a knock on the door, he groans, knowing it's probably those Mandalorian's needing help again.
But when he opens the door he freezes, 'I left Miss Pel.'
He steps aside and she keeps her head down as she walks inside, going to their bag and digging through, 'Saviin.'
He briefly pauses, head lifting slightly as her eyes close but she quickly gets back to siffling through the bag, 'I-' He sighs, walking over to the kids pram and clicking the button, locking him inside.
She stands slowly, turning to face him, he doesn't say anything else, he just walks over to her and gently takes her hand. She stares at him curiously, her hair is wet, probably from the rain that is making him stuck here for the night. Her clothes are wet too. But they're new. She's a brown leather jacket over a black body suit, the same boots and trousers but new cloves that wrap further up past her wrist.
He gently unties the fabric still around her wrist and she takes a slight step back making him stop, 'One last time, I-I want to show you something.'
She looks down and nods, allowing him to walk behind her and ties the fabric to prevent her vision, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, 'Come here.' He watches her brown rise above the fabric and he quickly adds on, 'Please.'
Slowly she moves, hands slightly in front of herself as she walks forward he puts his hands out, grabbing ahold of her wrists and she pauses as she feels his skin.
No gloves, just him.
They're warm, surprisingly soft, probably from the gloves he constantly wears.
He takes her hands guiding her to step between his knees, then he takes her hands and places them on his helmet.
Her breath stutters, she feels him nod but she refuses to do it, not without his verbal consent.
'Do it, Mesh'la.'
She purses her lips focusing on lifting the helmet and not the blush on her cheeks from the familiar word.
Din closes his eyes as the helmet is lifted, his hands falling to her waist and giving her hip a gentle squeeze in encouragement, he's nervous, she's not even seeing his face, he's not breaking his Creed.
He keeps his gaze down, slightly ashamed that he is trying to find a loophole around his sacred creed.
When her feet stop in front of him he lets his gaze wander upwards. Slowly up her hands, then up the long sleeves she wears no matter what, reaching her shoulders, hiding any of her skin.
