Heir of a Fett

Ginger

Mirta smiled at her work; her new yellow armor with a few black and gray markings. She was exhausted from spending hours painting her armor. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she walked to her room and fell face first on her bed. Just as sleep almost took over, she rudely pulled out of bed.
"What?!" Mirta half yelled half groaned,"I've been working for hours let me sleep!" Boba rolled his eyes as his grandchild didn't even try to get up from the floor.
"I take it you don't want to go on a 100,000 credit hunt then," Boba said as Mirta opened one eye up at him,"without me." Mirta jumped her feet and he snickered.
"You mean it!?" She yelled happily. He had never trusted her with a hunt worth that much money by herself!
"Thank you!" Mirta yelled happily, but then she saw it. That look in his eyes was there; it only meant one thing.
"What's the catch?" Mirta groaned.
"It took you that long to figure that out?"
"Oh shut up old man!"
"Brat."
"Psychopath!"
"Oh really?" Boba said raising an eyebrow,"so you don't want the hunt then?" Mirta grinned her teeth together angrily and swallowed her pride.
"Fine," she hissed still fuming,"I'm sorry, so what's the catch?" Mirta glared at him and he just chuckled at her misery.
"I'm not going with you but, I expect you to take another bounty hunter with you."
"Why?"
"First off, which one of us is more experienced?"
"You."
"So why are questioning me?"
"I'm a teenager!" Mirta almost yelled,"I'm supposed to!" Boba rolled eyes and gave a glare. Meaning, quite simply, that he was done arguing. She was going to do what he said and that was that.
"Just go to Mandalore, find another bounty hunter, and go the hunt I'm going to give you." Boba said bluntly and left the room. Mirta groaned and fell face first on her bed.
"Who knows," Boba said over his shoulder,"you might see your boyfriend again." Mirta's face turned a dark shade of red as she threw a pillow at the closed door and screamed few choice cuss words. Boba just chuckled at her frustration and embarrassment as he headed to another part of Slave 1.
"I need to move into my ship," Mirta grumbled as she fell on her bed. She was perfectly capable on going on whatever this hunt was alone! Still, Mirta had always kinda of wondered what became of that idiot. She felt her eyes begin to drop and sleep quietly beaconed her. Two things bothered her though as she fell asleep: who tried to kill her and what was that blond idiot's name.
                              ***
Mandalore's capital city hadn't changed a bit. Mirta grinned the big city; one of the few places she was happy to return to. Her new yellow armor glistened in the sun as she walked along. She watched as she got a few glances; the new paint job made them think she was a rookie. Oh weren't they in for a surprise.
Night was starting to descend on the city. Mirta smiled to herself; the ruff and tumble city got even more rambunctious after dark. She snickered to herself as a memory of her and Ghes trying to seek out to see night life came to mind. Let's just say for the two escape artists it didn't end well.
"I'll go see him in the morning," Mirta thought out loud and went to a club. She never had time to go places like clubs and there was no Boba to tell her no; there was no reason not to. She grinned to herself as stepped inside.
Mirta found herself an empty seat at the bar and slid off her helmet. She snickered to herself as whispers spread like wild fire around the club when people saw her face.
"I'll take a Tihaar," Mirta said while putting the money on the counter. The human bartender nodded and brought back the colorless Mandalorian spirit. He took his money and Mirta took a sip of her drink. She could feel the eyes from people all over the club on her; this drink was know to burn when you drank it causing everyone to see how Fett's grandchild would handle it.
The fifteen year old kept a stony face and many were impressed. On the inside though, poor Mirta wanted to scream. It burned throat horribly, but she had to admit it tasted good. It still hurt like a kriffing mother though.
A glass of water was put in front of her and Mirta blinked. She hadn't ordered any. The teenager looked up at the bartender only to see him point to the right. Mirta turned to see a young man in dark red armor. He was about her age with light ginger hair. What caught her attention most was his steel grey eyes; they looked familiar.
It took her a minute, but it dawned on her. They looked a lot liked her old friend's eyes; a friend who's name she still couldn't remember. Her friend wasn't a ginger though so it couldn't be him. Mirta glared at the ginger and pushed the glass back to him. She watched a his disappointed and shocked expression as the glass slid to him. Mirta snicker to herself; who knew rejections were this much fun?
The young man wasn't one to give up though. He stood up and walked right up to her. The ginger set the glass right in front of her and smiled. Her rejection had only made him more determined; he seemed to attracted to the challenge she offered him.
"Come on girly," the ginger said smugly,"is that the thanks I get for letting you kick my butt when we were kids?" Her eyes widened; it couldn't be him!
"I think you have the wrong person." She said in the same smug tone, though it was forced. "First off," Mirta continued,"I beat him to a pulp because he was weak; not because he let me. Secondly, he wasn't a ginger."