The Rainy Day

Breakfast

Din stepped out of their room a few minutes later, dressed in a dry outfit. He left most of his armor in the room since he wouldn't be needing it here. He held a dripping bundle of both Grogu and his old clothing. The kid had insisted on getting himself dressed. He had incredibly short arms, so it would take a minute.

Din carried their laundry to the fresher. Their fresher was fairly tiny, and barely had room for all their appliances. Din dropped his burden into the washing machine. As he punched in instructions, Grogu appeared in the doorway.

"What d'you need, buddy?" he asked.

Grogu whined impatiently and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

"Hungry?" Din inquired. They'd left to get their chore done so early, that they hadn't had the chance to eat breakfast.

The washing machine made a rushing noise as it filled with water. Din left the fresher with Grogu hot on his heels. He took a quick peek at the contents in their cooling chamber. Din may need to go to the market tomorrow. Their milk carton was running low, as was their snack supply. They were completely out of pasta and pretty much anything fresh. No more fruits or vegetables, just a few oranges. At least they had plenty of eggs. That was an easy breakfast.

Din grabbed four eggs–two for each of them–and half a stick of butter. Normally he added some sort of lunch meat, something to spice it up, but they were all out. As he waited for the stove to heat up, he filled a glass with Bantha milk. He brought the glass and a packet of cocoa powder to the dining table, where Grogu watched him intently. Sometimes, Din would let the kid stir some cocoa powder into his milk to make it chocolatey, but only on special occasions. This time, the chocolate milk was more of an apology for their late breakfast.

While Grogu was busy choco-fying his milk, Din dropped a slice of butter into the pan. Once it had melted, he added the rest of the ingredients: four eggs, some cheese, and a splash of milk. This wasn't the proper way to make scrambled eggs–normally you mixed it all together before putting it over the stove–but Din didn't have the patience for any more dishes. Grogu couldn't wait that long anyway. He whisked everything together in the pan. It didn't take long for it to cook through. Din switched the stove off. He split the eggs evenly between two plates, sprinkled on some salt crystals, then carried them to the table.

He set the plates down and took his seat across from the kid. Usually, Din would retreat to their bedroom during meals so he could safely remove his helmet, but he didn't feel like moving just yet. Instead, he watched the rain fall through the little window in their kitchen. Raindrops sent ripples running across the surface of the pond. The sky was cloudy and overcast. A streak of lightning zig-zagged through the clouds.

Grogu had already finished his eggs. He guzzled down the rest of his milk and set it on the table with a clink. The kid hopped off his chair and toddled off into the living room.

Now on his own, Din started on the eggs. He didn't take his helmet all the way off, just titled it back. This was only a quick snack. The eggs weren't his best work, but they were warm and fresh. They definitely beat the packaged rations he used to eat for breakfast, living on his old ship.

A familiar beep came from the fresher. Their laundry was done. Well, not done done. It still had to go through the dryer.

Din stood up from his chair and headed back to the fresher. He found Grogu in the living room. The kid seemed to be inspecting one of their couch cushions. His ears perked when Din walked in and he turned to stare at him.

Din paused midstep. "You look guilty. What'd you do?"

Grogu looked around as if trying to find the person Din was talking to. He was clearly up to something, but Din couldn't stay and figure it out. He had chores to do.

The fresher beeped again. Nag.

"I'll be back in a second," Din told his kid, "Whatever you're thinking of doing...ask first."

He continued to the fresher. As he was shoveling their wet laundry into the dryer, he felt a light tug on his cape. Grogu stood at his feet. He was holding a pillow. More specifically, a pillow from their couch. Din realized what he wanted.

"No forts," Din said, a lighter harsher than he meant.

A month or two ago, Grogu had caught a cold and they'd been stuck inside for a while. The kid was so bored and miserable that Din caved in and showed him one of his favorite indoor childhood activities: pillow forts. Grogu loved it. He played games, ate snacks, and even took a nap in it. He loved it so much he refused to take it down. Din had to clean it up after he'd gone to bed. Grogu had been disappointed the next morning and didn't cheer up until Din took him out for dessert. Din didn't want to start that again.

Grogu frowned.

"Just...," Din looked around as if the cure for Grogu's boredom could be found in their fresher, "draw a picture or something."

Grogu didn't exactly jump at the suggestion, but he wandered into the living room anyway.

The dryer was full. Din shut the door, pressed a few buttons, then made a mental checklist. The laundry was mostly done. It just needed to finish drying, then Din could fold it and put it away. In the meantime, he could clean up breakfast and maybe sort out dinner, too. It was only a matter of time before his kid would be hungry again.

With the sound of rain drumming against their roof, Din got to work.