𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 - DIN DJARIN

Chapter 24: The Ally

chapter 24: the ally •••

Din and the man in Mandalorian armor stare at each other for a few tense moments, causing you to hold the baby tighter as he releases a quiet coo of concern. The man then walks forward, approaching Din slowly before he speaks.

"What brings you here, stranger?" he says, his drawl present even through his helmet as he stops to stare at Din again.

Din hesitates, his fingers drumming on the countertop before he offers his reply. "I've been searching for you for many parsecs," Din answers. You assume he only left you out of his response just in case this man should be different than he appears—and Din wants to be the only one to have to answer to that. It's not the first time Din's had to do such a thing before.

"Well, now you found me," the man answers, walking up to the bar and nodding at the bartender. "Weequay, two snorts of spotchka."

You furrow your brow upon hearing him make such a request. There's no way for either one of them to enjoy spotchka—unless this man isn't actually as he appears. Din seems to come to the same conclusion as the man accepts the jug and two cups Weequay set up for him, taking them in his hands before addressing Din again.

"Why don't you join me for a drink?" the man asks, gesturing with his helmet to a nearby table. Din doesn't move, simply turning in place and watching as the man takes a seat.

Eventually, Din starts to walk forward, but stops abruptly when the man reaches up to take his helmet off. You hold your breath as he does so, slowly watching as he slides the helmet off and sets it on the table. The man's got grey hair on his head and his face with a smile that you know would charm anyone who's not already in love with someone else. He looks up at Din with eyes narrowed in a way you can't quite read from where you stand.

"I've never met a real Mandalorian," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice as he offers Din a nod. "Heard stories." He reaches for the spotchka, opening it and starting to distribute it. "I know you're good at killin'." You raise an eyebrow at that. At least he's aware of what'll probably happen in a few minutes. "And probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardware."

You can sense Din's unease that matches your own, the feeling almost sickly in your chest as you watch someone openly disrespect his Creed. Din's told you about non-Mandalorians wearing their armor—and you know enough to conclude that he's likely fuming underneath his own beskar.

The man sets down the spotchka, sighing before he lifts a hand to gesture to Din. "I figure only one of us walkin' out of here," he states, furrowing his brow as he looks at Din.

Your Mandalorian still hasn't spoken yet, but he does shift his position, leaning on his hip as he stares the man down. The man's gaze switches from Din to you and the baby, making your own chin lift as you glare back at him.

"But then I see the lady and the little guy—," he pauses as the baby coos, and you gently shush him with a raised brow, "—and I think, maybe I pegged you wrong." His gaze shifts back to Din, his brow furrowing again as he sets a snort of spotchka in Din's unused place.

You can see Din's fingers curl into a fist at his side as he finally speaks. "Who are you?" You can tell both by Din's stiffness and his tone that he's not in the mood to entertain any conversation other than that of his armor. It sends a chill down your spine.

"I'm Cobb Vanth," the man answers, holding his snort of spotchka in his hand as he speaks. "Marshal of Mos Pelgo." He toasts the drink in Din's direction before taking a sip.

"Where did you get the armor?" Din questions sharply.

"Bought it off some Jawas," Cobb answers simply, taking another sip of his spotchka.