1 Work by SeaPoppy27
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You feel a moment pass before you open your mouth to say something else, but no words form, and you shut your mouth without a peep, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. You feel the Mandalorian’s eyes following your every move, and in turn, you find yourself flicking your gaze over his form as well. He seems… relaxed, despite the tension in the conversation, still leaning back in the booth. The fabric under his armor is dark, with a sort of scarf-like fabric hiding his neck, his gloves thick leather, with small pieces of armor on the backs of his hands. His chestplate is marked with a diamond shaped indent in the center, a bandolier crossing over it. Pretty soon, you find yourself searching for anything to identify him with, a sliver of skin, a piece of jewelry. The only thing that stands out is a horned creature molded onto his left pauldron. You start to realize that you have no idea who this man is, his gaze unflinching out of his visor. There’s something about this person in front of you, maybe it’s the way he sits, the tone of his voice, the unreadability of a beskar helmet. Something that scratches an itch, deep in the back of your head. You could trust him, maybe. If you wanted to.
You almost wish you knew him.