Chapter Text
He’s a Mandalorian. He has been a bounty hunter for years. He’s the best in the parsec and has never had any trouble. He’s seen it all. Or so he thought. Somehow, this job was a whole bunch of firsts for him. First time needing someone’s help. First time teaming up with a droid (and hopefully the last). First time hunting a fifty-year old child. And certainly the first time the hunted child saved his life by slowing down a Mudhorn using its hand. No wonder the asset was worth so much. Checking that the child was still alive, he turned his attention to the controls of his newly restored ship.
If he was going to be honest with himself, he was beat up pretty bad. Certain that he had at least a few cracked, if not broken ribs from his encounter with the Mudhorn, he definitely had a concussion and a limp. Not to mention that the gash in his arm from earlier was still smarting. Setting the course to turn in the asset, he swiveled in his seat, only slightly surprised to see that the child was sitting up and awake.
“You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth.”
The mask only slightly modulates his voice. “But I guess I should thank you. For the Mudhorn.”
He turned back around feeling beyond stupid. He’s talking to a child that doesn’t speak and probably can’t understand him. The child is an asset, and is the reason he was in that mess in the first place. He tried to relax and leaned back in his seat, tipping his head back towards the ceiling. Not that you could tell, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wheezing upon exhaling. He held his bad arm close to his chest, as if he were trying to prevent further injury. The asset was relatively quiet, cooing every so often, and rustling about. Not ten minutes later the asset was completely silent, until the child ended up in his lap.
Obviously uncomfortable, the Mandalorian bristled and sat up quickly, ready to put the asset back in the bassinet. Before he could move, he stopped, looking down at his lap. The child had the same look on its face as it did before, with its hand outstretched. Following the assets tiny arm with his eyes, he realized that it was reaching towards his bad arm, just like it did the first time it escaped the bassinet. Choosing not to interrupt this time, the Mandalorian watched in awe as the ripped skin on his arm slowly started to mend together, with only slight shocks of pain. After his arm was totally healed, it only being a little sore, the child let out a big yawn and curled up in his lap. He didn’t move it. He supposed it was the fact that he was exhausted and his head was pounding and it hurt to breathe. Or maybe it was because the asset did save his life once already, and healed one of his superficial wounds.
“Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”