Darasuum // Din Djarin Mandalorian ♠️

Chapter Thirty-Eight - The Underground Ring

Word Count: 2,111 words. 

Warnings: None. 

Author's Note: Two months late... I apologise. 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I questioned, walking at Din's side as he guided us towards the centre of town.

"Do not tell me that you have never seen a fighting ring Solo," he countered, voice muffled by the modulator.

"Not that," I countered, scanning the faces that watched us. "I have seen, and been in, many fights."

"Illegal?" he posed, looking at me then.

"Perhaps."

The Mandalorian scoffed. "Interesting."

I sighed. "I am only worried about bringing the kid in with us. Surely, he could have stayed on the ship with Mayfield."

"I don't trust him," he muttered, turning a corner.

"I do," I argued.

"I worry that he might drink the night away and lose the kid," Din confided.

With a small laugh, I shook my head. "You care about him too much."

"Mayfield?" my husband posed, approaching a door. A single man stood guard. "I don't care about him at all."

I rolled my eyes as we entered the building, hand posed firmly above the blaster on my hip.

Two fighters were pitted against each other in the centre of the room, sparring on a raised platform. Surrounding them were hundreds of supporters, although it was impossible to tell who they cheered for.

"There's the informant," Din told me, gesturing slightly to a seated man. He did not scream like the others did, watching the killing match quietly and mannerly. As if that made him any more refined than the others in the room.

"You go speak with him, bring the kid," I told him, casting a look away. I spotted a familiar gun on the other side of the ring.

"And where are you going?" he questioned.

"To get a drink," I lied, and he knew it was a lie. Din knew that I couldn't tell him, for want of someone around us listening in. I was just lucky that I knew he trusted me.

"Shout if you're in trouble," the Mandalorian muttered.

I lowered my voice, smiling smugly. "Don't worry, I'm quite the screamer."

Splitting up then, I deftly moved through the crowd, using the Force to remain light on my feet and unnoticed by the screaming hoard. Questioning whether I truly needed to avidly act unseen, I slid along the makeshift bar.

"Drink lady?" the man behind it asked, looking me up and down. I suppose I didn't exactly fit the bill for a place like this.

Throwing a sidelong glance at the man on the stool next to me, I smiled. "You got anything from Coruscant?"

The stranger that I had recognised turned his head slightly. He noticed my face and rose to move.

"Not so fast Gressil," I muttered, expertly pointing my blaster to his side.

He hesitated, sitting back down and wrapping a hand tightly around his class. "Kriff," he cursed.

"How you been?" I pondered, quickly thanking the barkeep with a smile as he handed me a drink.

"Good, how are you?"

"Always so polite," I commented, taking in his new appearance. Dirty clothes, greying hair, a wrinkled face. Gressil was a Clawdite, a changeling, and one that I was certain I had killed.