the curious happenstance of pedro pascal and din djarin [The Mandalorian]

Cross-Dimensional-Mind-Fuckery

After the crowd had disappeared, Din got to work.

The first order of business. Find who made the banners. The thing mocked him, sent a chill down his spine, made his blood boil. But there was no use letting emotions get the best of him now.

He marched straight up to it. He stared it down. It was made out of some sort of silky fabric, and even in the windless room, the hustle-bustle of passersbys made it flutter lightly.

"Are you looking for the panel?"

He whipped his head around to the source of the voice. There he saw a young man with big round glasses. Eyes full of life and joy. The way he looked at him reminded him of how the child would stare in adoration. A pang shot through his heart.

He didn't know what the panel was, but if it gave him some much-needed information, then he'd take anything he could get. "Yes," he said simply.

"It starts in about five minutes. If you run you can make it, I'm going there too, so, run with me?"

It must be some sort of event.

He didn't respond, only gestured for the man to lead the way. Instantly, he broke out into a light run, and Din followed thereafter. He barely needed to jog to keep up with his pace.

Eventually, they arrived, or at least that's what Din assumed, because the man stopped. "Just in time," he said, with a grin. "There's the interviewer coming on stage..."

Sure enough, a woman walked out onto the stage with a sort of long cylinder that had a sphere attached on the end. She began to speak into it, Din could only assume it was a microphone, then.

"Who's excited?" she called out to the audience. Everyone cheered. "I'm excited!" More cheers. This was leaving Din utterly confused.

He thought this 'panel' was going to give him information, but this woman was an interview-ee.

Furthermore, if there are banners hung up everywhere advertising him, why has no one grabbed him yet? Why was he not being restrained and- and shot?

The woman talked about some random shit Din didn't understand. He began to focus his full attention when she started calling out more people onto the stage.

"Jon Favreau!" Lots of cheers.

"Dave Filoni!" Even more cheers.

"And our wonderful actors and actresses, Gina Corano, Carl Weathers, Werner Herzog, and the man of the hour-"

Din didn't hear the name.

He didn't need to.

It was hard enough watching Cara walk out onto that stage. But then Carga walked on too, and the fucking client of all people, and then...

It was like everything turned slow-motion. There was an incessant ringing in his ears, the tinnitus as a result of all the explosions he'd been exposed to. Thunderous applause as this man - this imposter - walked out onto the platform.

The interviewer asked them all questions, and they all answered. But Din only paid attention to one.

"Pedro Pascal," she flashed a grin, "For all those in the audience who don't know what this show is about, why don't you give a quick briefing?"

The imposter opened his mouth, took a breath. Seemed to contemplate for a few seconds, then he spoke.

"It's sort of like-like- well it's like a western show, right?" he spoke with his hands as much as his mouth. Flamboyant. This was not a very good imposter. "The Mandalorian, he's..." Din's heart skipped a beat. "He's this bounty hunter who is hired to do a job, he's supposed to find this asset and deliver it back to the client. It's sort of like, the Mandalorian's epic adventures, but," the imposter laughed, "but for a more mature audience."

Cara nodded. At this point, Din didn't know if it was actually Cara or not. This woman was wearing a dress. Cara would never wear a dress.

Either these bastards were trying to impersonate him, and his friends, and the client for some reason, or he'd entered into another goddamn dimension, which frankly, was utterly ridiculous-...

...

There had been a flash of bright orange light.

No alarms were tripped. He wasn't knocked unconscious.

Fuck. He cursed under his breath. Fuck. Is that even possible?

No. No, it wasn't. Dimensional travel was proven to be a farce. It was impossible. And yet... he stood before these people, talking to each other and cracking jokes like they were all best friends, even the client...

Oh, god. Maybe he had crossed dimensions. It only made sense, these people-

Fuck.