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It’s small. So small. It’s looking at him with big black eyes, head tilted in hopeful plea. Kraglin tilts his head to match.
“Why…” he blinks as the tiny mop of fur splits into two, “Why’re you s’small?”
There’s no way Kraglin can just leave it here alone. It’ll probably get stepped on, or squished by a passing vehicle, or eaten by something bigger, which is practically everything because it’s so tiny.
“You there,” the posh voice is jarring and Kraglin jerks his head around, staggers a little as the sudden movement sends his head spinning. “That’s my property, and I’ll thank you to take your inebriated self away from it.”
Ugh. Kraglin wrinkles his nose and lets out a spitty huff of derision. Stupid rich pricks, walking around with their snooty noses firmly lodged up their snooty asses. What’s he doing in this part of town anyways? Except… Kraglin blinks hard a couple times. This doesn’t look like the Kamer district. Those buildings over there are white. Like, clean white. And there’s real plants in front of it, not the fake terraformed stuff.
Where in the hell was he?
“Hello,” Rich Jackass is snapping his fingers now at Kraglin, “Are you deaf? I said back away from my property, or I’ll call the corpsmen on you.”
Kraglin sticks his lips out sulkily. Yondu would give him such shit if he had to break him out from a Brevanian jail for something like this. Kraglin would never live it down
He starts to turn, but the scruffy mud-coated face of Snobby Asshole’s pet swims back into focus. The corners of its little mouth droop, and lets out the saddest little whimper.
Fuck.
“You gonna stop laughing anytime soon?”
Kraglin folds his arms and lets his head thunk back against the wall. Yondu is doubled over in front of the still locked cell, one hand on the bars and one clutching his middle. He stops long enough to give Kraglin a look of unrepentant glee, before he returns to his hysterics. This time he manages to release his stomach long enough to point a gleeful finger at Kraglin.
“You got caught stealing some high-blood fucker’s fluffy little dog?” Yondu’s practically crowing, just like Kraglin knew he would. Brevan was just far enough on the edge of Nova controlled space that Yondu had decided it was worth the risk to scavenge the sort of supplies that abruptly became twice the price a few hundred clicks further. This second day, was supposed to be liberty – albeit it covertly, in the districts frequented by the less than savory characters and mercenaries and not the ones populated by those rich enough to want a space with less than strict Nova oversight.
“It was all sad and alone,” Kraglin mutters, stares up at the damp grotty ceiling. At least this one’s relatively dry, and lacking assorted blood-sucking beasties clinging to the cracks. It’s cause it’s a rich people prison, is what it is.
“Oh well, if it was sad,” Yondu widens his eyes, voice brimming with mockery. “Y’know, if you wanted a way to try an’ up your bounty, we coulda got you a little job swiping jewels from one of them rich fucks. Woulda made more headlines than trying t’steal a pet.”
Kraglin glares. Of course Yondu had to bring up his bounty. Just because Yondu was the flashy one, gallivanting and grandstanding and getting his face plastered over every holofeed in the galaxy. Kraglin was better and not getting caught is all. Trust Yondu to never let him forget it.
“You gonna break me out of here or what?”
Yondu straightens up. “Don’t get your pants in a twist, I’m enjoying this moment.”
He doesn’t wait any longer though, tosses his arrow back into the air and sends it sizzling through the biolock. It sparks desolately, then the cell door slides open with a sigh.
“Please tell me y’got my knives ’n blaster back too,” Kraglin scrambles himself onto his feet, grabs greedy for his weapons when Yondu proffers them. There’s a sudden clash and clacking of boots from the end of the corridor and Yondu spins toward it, eyes narrowing.
“Corpsmen,” he says, “Feels like a good dozen, c’mon, that lock will only take ‘em a few minutes.”
They run towards the window at the end of the passageway, and Yondu vaults himself up and out. Kraglin grabs the sill, starts to hoist himself up when there’s a warbling whine behind him.
They stuck the little dog down here? All cold and alone and still covered in mud? Bastards.
Kraglin turns, sees shiny black eyes peering out from inside a tiny cage. He flips open his laser knife, cuts through the bars like butter, and scoops the little thing out. It’s fluffily paws scramble in the air like it’s trying to make itself move closer to Kraglin through sheer force of will, and its little pink tongue flicks out to taste the air.
Like hell he’s leaving it here for Rich Asshole to kick around when he finally finds time to retrieve it.
Maybe he can stuff it down his shirt? Kraglin peers down. No, probably not. Yondu would definitely see it.
“Decided to take a smoke break while you’re in there?” Yondu’s irritated voice is accompanied by an impatient slap on the metal wall. No time left to figure this out except…
Kraglin tucks the fluff in one arm, grabs at the strap around his back with the other. He can fit it in his pack. Good thing he decided to bring something for the odds and ends he’d originally planned on picking up on Brevan. He can put the little thing inside, and there will definitely be a chance to drop it off somewhere safe before they head back to the Eclector.
Yondu will never have to find out.
Yondu’s definitely gonna find out. Kraglin stares at the contented pile of fluff curled up on his bed. They won’t be making another port call, for at least a good lunar cycle if even that soon. And pets may have been in short supply in the scum-alleys of Knowhere where he grew up, but he’s pretty sure they require things like training and food and places to do their business.
From behind him, there’s a knock of the door.
Shit.
It’s probably Yondu, too, looking for him since Kraglin hadn’t shown up as per his normal evening routine. As captain, Yondu’s quarters are a sight bigger than the first mate’s, and his fur-heaped bed definitely is – and it’s the reason over the past year Kraglin’s quarters have turned rather damp and dusty.
Kraglin nearly tangles over his own feet grabbing the little thing and shoving in in the barely bigger than shoebox sized closet. It goes in with a confused whine, but settles itself in a raggedy heap.
There. Hopefully it will keep sleeping peacefully until Kraglin can come back for it tomorrow. Just in time too, as his door swooshes open, Yondu clearly having gotten bored with waiting for Kraglin to answer.
“I came back from the bridge, and you weren’t in my quarters,” Yondu smirks at him dirty, saunters closer, “That chase earlier got my blood up, ’n I got some extra energy t’work off. Mebbe you could figure out a way t’help me do that.”
Kraglin grins back, but then before he can say anything Yondu’s face goes blank and startled.
Oh no.
“What,” the lines in Yondu’s implant light up with the faintest glow, “Is that.”
Nails click chipper against the metal floor and Kraglin watches paralyzed as the little dog trots its way out, blithe as you please. It stops in front of Yondu, looks up at him, and then sits.
“Obfonteri,” Yondu bends over enough he can scoop it up by its front legs, holds it dangling in the air in front of him, “don’t suppose by any chance, this is that little critter y’got yourself locked up for?”
“Um,” Kraglin shuffles his feet, and then plops himself on the bed. “Might be.”
Yondu stares at the heap of dirty fur that’s now straining towards him, and twists around so he can settle on the bed next to Kraglin.
“I though,” Kraglin rubs at the tiny hole that’s formed in the knee of his jumpsuit, “maybe we should keep it.”
‘“Why ’n the hell should we keep it?” In spite of his words, Yondu has the little mop-head curled on his lap and is rubbing behind its ears while it makes contented crooning noises and stares at him adoringly.
“Lifts morale, sir?” Kraglin nods seriously. “An’ y’know, I think I heard the crew complaining just the other day ‘bout how Charlie-27’s crew has a mascot and how we don’t have a mascot.”
“Hrmph,” the fluff has flipped on its back now, and Yondu is scritching at its stomach while its leg thumps the air happily. Then with an exaggerated sigh, Yondu lifts his hand away from it long enough to jab it in Kraglin’s general direction. “You better be responsible for it then, I don’t wanna hear of it making a mess or tearing up the ship.”
The floof noses at Yondu’s hand with a whine, which gets it a gentle tap on the nose and then exactly what it wants - a hand scritching at its ears. Yondu runs his other hand gently up and down its back, muttering something about getting the tailor to make it some kind of mini Ravager uniform – just so everyone knows its a mascot and should be treated with care as such.
Kraglin leans into Yondu’s shoulder, nuzzles against the side of his implant.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sentimental on me,” Yondu grumbles, shoves at his knee. “I c’n feel its ribs, if we’re gonna keep it you best go get it some of that nice Jarra meat ‘fore it wastes away.”