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

Just human decency.

22nd March 2020

"I'm getting the impression that she's very special to you."

"She is."

"Would you like to tell me more about that? Or is that something you would prefer to keep private?"

Din sat, cross-legged, on his bed. Pedro's laptop rested in front of him, the screen tilted back. Robert was sitting in an office. Worked from home, he said, but he liked the workplace environment.

"She's..." he paused. Thinking. Omera was very special. Words could not describe... how she made him feel, every time he visited that hospital... He would go, every morning. Pedro had new work, new roles, so he would drive Din to the hospital on the way, and leave him there until late afternoon. "Amazing." And it never stopped being wonderful. Talking to Omera, and, Winta, too! He adored them. "I think I love her."

"You think?"

Robert had this curious look on his face. He truly listened, truly cared. It was only their second session, but Din already felt as though he could share everything. That feeling of comfort that this man radiated. Wise, kind. He understood. And he wanted to help.

"I don't know. She makes me happy."

So happy. When was the last time he felt like that? On Sorgan, had to be. But since then?

Never.

"I'm very glad to hear that. This is just an observation, but with the return of your friend, I can see you're a lot more comfortable today. This doesn't mean that everything will be solved with a," he snapped his fingers, "but, this is still very good progress and you should be proud of that, I think."

There was a brief sound of shuffling papers that Din couldn't see before he continued:

"If you don't mind my asking, and of course you don't have to give an answer, did you have any more nightmares since our last session?"

Every night. He woke up, in a pool of his own cold sweat, his throat aching as the remnants of a scream echoed through the halls. Breathing heavy and hard, he'd lay awake until his eyes got used to the consuming darkness of his bedroom. And then he'd try again. Go back to sleep. The cycle repeated.

"Yeah."

"And you don't remember these dreams?"

Forgotten, as quick as they'd invaded his mind they evaporated into nothing. He was almost grateful.

Didn't want to know.

He just hoped he wasn't keeping Pedro awake at night.

"Yeah."

"I see. And how much sleep do you think you got over this past week?"

"I don't know. Not much."

"Does this affect your day-to-day life much at all? I know you said you don't have a job, but, how about hobbies?"

Honestly, he didn't have any real hobbies either. Did reading Wikipedia articles count as a hobby? Probably not.

There was... his writing. But...

"I don't think so."

"You told me last time that you like to write."

"Yeah."

Yeah.

The book he'd been writing in, it sat open on his bed, barely a foot away. An unfinished piece glaring at him, mocking him.