Chapter Text
At Regali’s shrill behest, Darfin had been instructed to take a subtle brief peek around the barn after his regular nighttime stroll around the village. Mazal and Regali had both cornered him and agreed that just a quick peek wouldn’t hurt, at least just to see if the clothes they’d brought had fit the baby and-
A series of violent retching sounds quickly wash away that train of thought.
Brow slowly furrowing in concern, Darfin speeds up his descent towards the barn. Feet brushing against a worn grassy path, he quickly comes upon the source of the painful sounds.
A figure was currently crouched to the left side of the barn, head bowed meekly into a lone bush and shuddering with every gasp. A stray glint of silver in the dark had been enough to make out who it was. The Mandalorian.
Cautiously stepping beside him, Darfin opts for laying a shaky hand over the sick man’s heaving back.
“A-are you alright?”
The Mandalorian replies with a sharp groan, hastily pulling on his helmet before fully emerging from the foliage and facing him.
“I’m fine.” He breathes out raggedly with a hand still pressed onto his visor. “I apologize for the…racket,” he says, with what Darfin imagines is a grimace. “I just wasn’t feeling too well and I-“
“What? No! Please, don’t.” Darfin interrupts, scandalized at the implication. “I just came by to make sure that you and your boy were settling in alright and- are you sure you’re okay?”
The man deflates before him in visible relief, his breaths becoming less painful-sounding with every second.
“Thank you for your concern, but I really am fine.” He begins to wring his gloved hands nervously despite his new composure. “I just-I don’t think the porridge sat too well with me and-“
A soft sympathetic sound escapes Darfin’s lips, and now it’s his turn to sputter out apologies. “I am so sorry about that, I completely understand. Can I bring you anything else to eat? I’m sure I can whip up something for you in a tick-“
“No, thank you!” The Mandalorian raises his hands up in an almost pleading gesture. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer tomorrow. I’m still not…” He sighs to himself, stalling for time and choosing his words carefully, “feeling too well.”
Darfin nods solemnly, fully convinced that he’d nearly poisoned a kind and innocent man with his poor attempts at a simple bowl of porridge. Regali and Mazal were going to give him a stern talking-to the instant he’d tell them about it, which he quite frankly deserved.
With a hasty yet comforting “good night,” Darfin walks away, thinking up a storm of dishes for curing cases of food poisoning, leaving a mildly disheveled Mandalorian standing stiffly beside barn’s doorway. Mando, all too pleased to end the conversation, makes a hasty retreat inside, fully satisfied to spiral into unconsciousness after that exchange.
That…had been a close call.