Chapter Text
When a ship lands on a dry, dusty surface, it shudders and creaks but holds together. Its engines power down, it settles into stillness, and for a few moments nothing happens. Then, it begins to groan, the sound of a vacuum, as its hatch begins to open until the ramp is on the ground.
From the ship emerges two Mandalorians. One shorter, one taller, and both strapped with weapons.
“Fob is going off,” says the shorter.
“They’re here.” The taller begins to walk forward and the other follows as the hatch closes. “Keep the fob. You find them.”
“Really?”
“Really. Be quick, or they’ll find out we’re here and run.”
Din Djarin glances at his companion out of the corner of his eye, watching to be sure she’s beside him. At 16, Ari Tero is shaping to be a formidable Mandalorian and has a mind for bounty hunting. But she is his vod’ad. He is in charge of her safety.
Griphin and Ali’i will kill him if he let their child get hurt under his watch.
They walk into town, and Ari is holding out the fob like a detector, watching the way it pulses. Din reaches out, lowers her arm. “Stop,” he says. “You look ridiculous.”
“What?”
“You’re holding a tracking fob right out in front of you. You’re broadcasting that you’re a hunter. Being a Mandalorian gets you enough attention, so don’t make it obvious to these people that you might be after one of their buddies.”
“Oh.”
“Keep it on your belt. Let it beep. We’ll try the closest watering hole first, see if we can at least hear their name.”
“Seems like we’re definitely broadcasting our presence there,” Ari says.
“Some things can’t be helped. There’s two of us. They might just assume we’re traveling rather than hunting. That’s why you keep the fob on your belt and don’t ask too many questions.”
“Ba’vodu Paz says you’re too cautious on hunts.”
“Paz doesn’t know shit about my hunts.”
Ari snorts. They walk into town, venturing into the square stepping past people. They get strange, wary looks, the townsfolk becoming uncomfortable with the presence of two Mandalorians. They whisper and turn away from them, a reaction that Din has long become used to, but Ari shifts and looks around.
“Don’t react,” he says, his voice quiet enough that it's only heard on their comms line. “You’re Mando. They will always stare. They will always fear you.”
“Why do they have to fear us?”
“Everyone fears what they don’t understand. They don’t understand us. Cuy ogir'olar.”
Ari becomes quiet.
Din looks over and spots the opening to a cantina, its door closing behind someone.
“Ogir,” he says, and Ari looks over. They begin walking towards it, stepping through the crowd, and for just a moment they’re split by a moving group. Din’s chest tightens. Then, when Ari reappears at his side again, he can relax. He knows she can hold her own in a fight. She can even give him significant trouble before a takedown, when they have their own sparring matches—she’s quick, like him. The Armorer would not have granted her permission to hunt with Din if the covert did not see her as worthy.
But, he supposes, she will always be an overzealous little girl in his mind.
The cantina is loud, quieting down as many turn to see the Mandalorians. Din walks forward, towards an empty table, and Ari follows. It’s only when they sit down that the patrons begin turning back to their own conversations, though tension hangs in the air.
“I like catching them in the open better,” Ari mutters.
“We all do.” Din hates this as much as she does. He doesn’t like being in a small space, full of unknown hostiles, when he doesn’t know their allegiance. They could all be friends of the target. They could turn on them as soon as they realize who they’re here for. He can handle a bar fight, but he has Ari to worry about. She’s only freshly taken her Creed. She’s inexperienced.
“Fob,” he says.
“Going off.” Ari sucks in a breath. “I think he’s here.”
They’re looking for a bail jumper. Their hunts are usually bail jumpers, lesser convicts, the sort of hunts Din would usually pass on in favor of more danger. All the good pucks have been going to Paz. But Ari has to learn the basics and taking down dangerous outlaws and smugglers will have to wait.
All the money goes to the covert, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter if it's him or Paz who gets it. But he scowls anyway.
Under the table, Ari slips out the fob. It’s quiet against the chatter of the room, a relief, and Din glances down at it. Yes, their target is nearby, if not in the room. He looks around, then slides the puck out. Under the table, he lights it, and the figure of their mark pops up. Gharite Slaverik. A human man. Careful, Din had said, bail jumpers can still be dangerous if they’re desperate.
Finally, a figure on the other side shifts. Din feels a stare. He looks up, makes eye contact with a man, and doesn’t move. The description matches. “There. Keep your blaster ready. He should come quiet if there’s two of us, but be ready for trouble.”
Ari looks up. She stiffens, ready to jump, and Din is the same. Then, he stands, and once again the bar falls quiet. With Ari at his heels, they walk across, and Din stops in front of the man. He places the puck down, then activates it. Ari stands at his shoulder. The man looks them up and down.
“Bounty hunters,” he says.
Din doesn’t speak.
“Guild, I guess?”
Din’s hand slips down towards his blaster.
“Are you the Mandalorian who took off with an asset after collection? That story made its way around.”
Ari stiffens. Din reaches out and takes the puck, then slides his blaster out of its holster.
“I can bring you in warm,” he says. “Or I can bring you in cold.”
Slaverik stares at them, his eyes narrowing. Then, he stands, scooting his chair back, and stands, holding his hands out. “Fine,” he says. “I’m guessing I have no chance against two Mandalorians.”
“Slanar,” Din says. Ari nods and reaches for her belt, pulling off a pair of cuffs, and steps forward. She begins placing them on Slaverik’s wrists. Her movements are quick but careful, working to secure him before he can make a sudden move. Din keeps his blaster primed, muscles tensed.
Slaverik makes no move. Din slides his blaster into its holster and turns. The entire cantina has gone silent and is watching. Din moves his hands in a gesture. Stay behind him. Ari makes an affirmative hum and they walk to the door, out into the dry air and the setting sun. They begin the walk back towards the Crest.
“Seems all clear,” Ari says. Her voice rings in his earpiece through the helmets, and she must’ve turned off her modulator’s projector -- or, better have. Din reaches up and switches off his own.
“Keep an eye out,” he says. “It’s not safe until we’re on the ship and the door’s shut.”
“Loud and clear.”
The town seems quiet. Most of the crowd from minutes ago has disappeared, leaving the square empty and desolate. Din feels his skin crawl with warning. He glances over both shoulders, then mutters, “Tsikador.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Just take your blaster out.”
He grips his own. They’re moving towards the edge of town, and they’ll have no cover from the outskirts until they’re standing in the ship. He looks around at the rooftops, scanning, listening. Nothing comes. But paranoia sits in the pit of his stomach. He stops walking, gripping the blaster.
“Ba’vodu?” Ari says.
Then the plasma bolt strikes the ground just in front of his feet.
Din drops into a crouch, “Sniper!” When a second shot doesn’t immediately follow, he stands and grabs Slaverik by the cuffs and jerks him towards the nearest door. “Get behind cover!”
He kicks the door open and it gives way. He shoves Slaverik through, then follows just inside the doorway as another blaster finds its mark against his beskar. It deflects, though, and he only stumbles forward before recovering. Ari slides into the building behind him, immediately rolling over to her stomach and getting up.
“Bral!” she says, pointing upwards. “They’ve got a wall thrown up on the roof. They’re sniping through a slot.”
Din swears. “Did we miss that?”
“No, I don’t think so. It looks makeshift. New.”
A shuffle from behind makes him look over. Slaverik is getting to his feet, taking a creeping step towards the far door, and Din raises his blaster. “Watch it!” he hisses. “We don’t need you alive.”
The man stares at him, then slowly begins to go to his knees. How does a person like this get friends to pull a trigger for him? he thinks. Then he turns and unclasps his Amban’s strap, bringing it around. “Are any exposed?”
Ari leans forward to get a look up, then jumps back as another bolt misses her by inches. “Just barely. They’re leaning out to shoot, but you won’t get them otherwise.” She pauses, then looks at Din. “There’s a door over there. I can run across and draw their fire for them to shoot.”
“What? No,” Din says. “That’s too dangerous.”
“They’re not that good. I’m fast. You’ll have the shot.”
“No!”
“Din!” Ari huffs. “I have beskar. I’ll be fine. I only see a few of them. We’ll be stuck here otherwise!”
Din stares at her, then sighs, adjusting the rifle. “... Fine. Do it.”
Ari nods, then stands, just out of sight of the shooters. Din moves to beside the doorway, his back against the wall, ready to turn. They nod to each other. Din’s stomach twists.
Then, a presence begins to prod at his mind, and he sucks in a breath. It’s familiar, so familiar, almost as intuitive as thinking itself. Sensing no barriers, the presence pushes in, worry and nervousness pressing in on Din. Are you okay?
Pinned down. We’ll be there soon. Stay there.
I can help—
Stay. There.
He lifts his mental shields, and the presence reluctantly slips out.
“Ready,” he says, looking at Ari. “Okay--go!”
Ari drops into a sprint, through the doorway and out into the open. Din spins around and aims his rifle high, spotting the barricade--it’s mostly just weighted sacks thrown together, and there is a slot that they’re aiming through. Two pop into sight, aiming at Ari, their blasters tracking her.
Din holds his breath, steadying his shot, then pulls the trigger.
The charge slips through the slot and one of the assailants disappears in a burst of firey ash, disappearing from existence, and it earns startled yells from the others--only two more, unless others have hidden. Ari slams herself against the opposite building, protected by the metal shielding of the roof as it juts out overhead. Din makes eye contact with her, relieved.
Then a blaster shot barely misses his foot and Din jumps back, into the shadow of the wall. He glances over to see Slaverik still sitting, looking pale, his calm demeanor from earlier gone. Thought they were going to save you? he thinks with a snarl.
He pauses, then moves back from the door and chances a duck into their line of sight. Both shooters have taken up either side of the blockade and are steadily aiming, waiting. They fire another shot and Din throws himself out of the way, then climbs to his feet again. “Ari,” he says. He moves again, careful this time to be far away enough that only Ari sees him. “Payt. Payt.” He points upwards, then waves his left hand and points at her.
Ari stares at him, then nods and pulls both her blasters into her hands, holding them up. Din reaches down to his boot and pulls another charge, reloading. His blaster is ready, in case he misses, but he trusts Ari’s speed and aim to take care of both if he does.
“Three. Two… Go!”
Ari kicks off the wall and backs out into the sunlight, aiming high, as Din steps again into the doorway. Both shooters aim for Din at first, and one fires a bolt into the wall, while the other hesitates upon finally spotting Ari. He aims. Ari is faster. He screams as he takes two shots through the slot.
Din aims and pulls the trigger, his crosshair directly on the second shooter’s chest, and the man screams as he disintegrates into air. Both stand ready, breathing hard, and Din swings his rifle back over his shoulder. His hand slips to his blaster, but the town has fallen silent and no one else jumps out to attack.
“Utrel’a,” Ari says, looking around.
All clear, Din repeats in his head. He steps out of the building, then sees nothing. “Okay. Let’s go. Before anyone else shows up.”
Ari nods and holsters her blasters. Din turns and focuses his gaze on Slaverik. “Now,” he says in a rough voice, and Slaverik gives him a dirty look before he stands and walks over. Din gives him an encouraging shove out into the open, and with Ari behind them again, they begin to walk.
The Crest isn’t far. When they approach, the ramp begins to lower and standing aboard is a small creature, his ears flattened and with a worried expression on his face. “Hurt?” he demands, his voice echoing within the ship.
“We’re fine,” Din says. “Move.”
The kid is quick to step aside and out of the way as they walk up the ramp. Din turns towards Slaverik and pulls off his cuffs. The mark immediately begins to rub at his wrists as Ari hits the button to lift the ramp.
A weight lands on Din’s shoulder, light and clawed as it balances on his pauldron. Din doesn’t react, used to the movement, but Slaverik does. He stares at the kid, who plants a hand against Din’s helmet. “What the hell is that?” he demands.
Din doesn’t respond. He shoves Slaverik back, straight into the carbon freezer, and hits the button. Slaverik barely gets a yell out before he’s frozen, expression still contorted in a scream.
“You got that?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Ari says.
Din nods and turns, walking to the ladder, and he begins to climb up. Kuiil sticks to his pauldron with practiced ease. Only when he’s stepped into the cockpit and settled into the pilot’s seat does the kid slip down and into his lap. His ears are still down, and he leans against Din’s cuirass but doesn’t speak, his beskar vambraces glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windshield. His old robe is gone, worn out by years, and now he wears a similar one that fits better as well as small trousers beneath.
“What’s wrong,” Din says, less as a question.
Kuiil doesn’t respond, but then he mumbles something under his breath.
“Don’t mumble, ad’ika.”
“I’m always here.”
“What do you mean?”
“On hunts.”
Din lets out a low sigh as he begins flipping the switches for takeoff. “We talked about this. You can’t come. It’s too dangerous and you know that.”
“I can help.”
“No, you can’t.” Din reaches for a lever to start an engine. “You’re too young and too little.”
Kuiil throws a hand out. Din tries to pull the lever but it sticks and he stares at it for a moment before giving the kid a slight push. “Hey. Knock it off.”
“Ari goes,” he accuses.
“Ari’s sworn the Creed and is permitted to leave by the matriarch,” Din says. On cue, Ari steps into the cockpit and slides into the co-pilot seat. “This is her training. You aren’t here to hunt—we’ve already had this discussion and it’s not going to change.”
“Buir!” Kuiil whines.
“No. Let go of it.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Ari says as the engines finally turn on. They begin to lift off the ground. “You’re just not intimidating enough. All the targets will think you’re too cuddly to take you seriously.”
Then there’s a thud and a groan. Din whips around to see Ari was shoved against the back of her seat and is now rubbing at her neck beneath her helmet, wincing.
“Hey,” he snaps. “Apologize.”
“Buir!” Kuiil whines, “She said—“
“No, I don’t care. You don’t get to do that to anyone.”
The kid shrinks back, then mumbles a half-hearted apology. He can feel the kid’s moodiness but he just sighs and focuses on pulling them out of the atmosphere and up into the stars.
“Then why do I come?” Kuiil finally asks, after a few moments of silence.
“Because—“ Din pauses. “You want to come.”
“So?”
Din frowns, his hands hesitating. “So you get to come. The reason is—“ he pauses. “You were smaller. You don’t remember it. The first time I took you to Takodana.”
Kuiil stares up at him. “What does that…”
“It does relate. I bring you because of what happened.”
Ari snorts. “I remember Uncle Paz attacking you.”
Kuiil turns quick to stare up at Din. Din grumbles, “I did something I shouldn’t have. The wrong way.”
“What?”
“We’re not getting into it now.” The stars come into view, the atmosphere left behind, and Din puts in coordinates for Nevarro. “We’re still on the job. We need to get the bounties to Karga and get our money. You two can argue it out later.”
Ari leans forward in her seat. “We should take the higher bounties,” she says. “The bail jumpers are getting boring. That last one was the most exciting I’ve ever had.”
“The bail jumpers are your level,” Din says. “You’re not a hunter yet.”
“I’m never going to improve if I keep doing the same stuff over and over. I want something hard. Something dangerous.”
“I’m not putting you in danger on purpose,” Din says. “And danger for the sake of danger is only going to get you killed. You do it because that’s the job. The bail jumpers aren’t thrilling but they’re less likely to kill you and we can take several at a time.”
Ari groans. “Fine, buir.”
Din turns to give her a look. The kid makes an annoyed squeak. Ari stares back for a moment, then grumbles. “Ba’vodu. Sorry.”
“That’s better.” Din turns back to the console.
The room down in the cargo hold is getting cramped with the amount of assets that have been stored and Din can’t simply send one of the kids down there to make them behave. The last time he tried, it only prompted more whining from either one about the cramped space. Ari and Kuiil are friends, cousins, but they’ve bickered more since Ari started riding along on hunts.
Din thinks the kid doesn’t like splitting his attention. Kuiil will huff and deny it. Yet when they arrive home, the bickering disappears.
After a few minutes, Ari walks out and down into the hold to eat. Moments later, the kid looks up at Din, then hops up onto Din’s shoulder, resting on his pauldron. He curls up there, and for a moment all is silent again.
“What is it?” Din asks.
Kuiil makes a tired, conflicted noise in his throat, then crouches down, clinging to the pauldron with both hands and feet. Din has to make sure both pauldrons are secure and unmoving for Kuiil’s sake. “Bad dream,” he mumbles.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Din asks.
“No. I don’t… get it.” The kid shifts on the plate. He makes another soft noise. “You hunted me,” he says. “When you found me.”
A hot stone forms in Din’s stomach. His grip tightens on the joystick. “I did.”
“Like that?”
“No. Not like that. You don’t remember enough of it.”
“Some. Cara.”
Din rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember Cara from then. You know her because we’ve seen her since.”
“Kuiil.”
That makes Din take a deep breath. “Yeah. Kuiil. I gave you his name. He died trying to protect you.”
“I remember… fire. I think there was fire. There is in dreams. And you.” Kuiil looks at him. His gaze feels piercing through Din’s visor. “When did you… why—when you... kir’manir?”
“Adopt you,” Din mumbles. “When and why did I adopt you.”
Kuiil nods.
“Because…” Din pauses. “You were a foundling. That’s what you do with foundlings.”
He’s hit with a wave of dissatisfaction and the kid huffs. “Buir.”
“Look.” Din sighs. “It’s complicated. It all happened years ago. The Empire… they wanted you, and were willing to pay in beskar. I… took the bounty. Then I realized my sin and took you back. I adopted you after.”
“Why?” Kuiil asks, his voice soft.
“You were my son. You started calling me buir. I called you ad’ika. The covert had exposed itself so I could escape with you in my arms. It was just… that was natural.” Din shrugs. “You’re Mando. A Mando’ade. You wear beskar’gam, speak our words, live as a Mandalorian. I spoke the gai bal manda and now what happened before doesn’t matter, only what happens now.”
Kuiil falls quiet. “Cin vhetin,” he whispers.
“Right. Clean slate. You’re one of us, now. You’re my son. There are a lot of things I regret, but taking you as mine isn’t one of them.”
The kid makes a warm sound, leaning against Din’s helmet, and satisfaction simmers in their bond. Din lifts a hand to pet along his back, then returns it to flying. “I know you want to come on hunts,” he says. “I get it. One day, you will. But not today. Not soon. You have to wait.”
Kuiil sighs, but he doesn’t push it, and he just stays in place.
Din reaches for the hyperdrive.
Nevarro is the same as it’s always been. Full of hunters. Full of questionable characters. Din only has one destination in mind when he enters the atmosphere and he keeps a hand on his blaster when he steps off the ship.
Ari is at his side. The kid is seated on a pauldron, clinging to the beskar, and holds himself close to Din’s helmet so he can feel less exposed. They walk into the town, heading straight through, and eyes turn to stare. Many stop what they’re doing to watch. Neither human Mandalorian acknowledges it, but Kuiil looks around with nervous eyes, and his claws dig in tighter.
This place is full of bad memories for them both.
They walk straight to the common house, making the last turn, and Din walks to the door of the cantina. He pauses, then looks at Ari. “Remember. You don’t—“
“I don’t talk. You’ll handle it. I just watch. I know.”
Din nods. He hits the button and the door slides open; inside is packed with hunters, with some that Din doesn’t recognize. It’s become a big mix since the time he snatched the kid. He steps inside, then down the stairs and begins sliding between hunters. As eyes turn to look, they begin to step away, making a path. Din heads for the booths, where Greef Karga sits with a drink.
Karga looks up, then smiles. “Ah. As fast as you usually are, then.”
Din takes out their fobs and places them on the table in a motion that’s almost muscle memory. Then, he takes off his rifle. On cue, Ari slides into the booth first, then Din sits. Putting himself between the kids and the rest of the hunters. It’s just instinct now.
He looks around for a familiar face. He doesn’t see her anywhere. So he turns back.
Karga looks the three of them over. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the credits, placing them down one by one. “How’s the kid?” he asks, eyes flickering towards the child. Kuiil makes an uncomfortable mumble and shuffles closer to Din’s helmet.
“He’s fine,” Din says.
“You ever gonna tell me who your partner there is?”
It’s a lighthearted inquiry. Karga’s asked before. Like the times before, Din and Ari only stare, unforthcoming. Karga looks between them, clearly sensing that he won’t get a lighthearted response in return, as if he ever does. “Takes after you with the silence,” he comments. “Vizla speaks more. Your kid, too?”
“No,” Din says. When the bounty has been placed on the table, Din reaches across and takes it, sliding it over. He dumps it into a pouch and hands it to Ari, who clips it to her belt. “Leave it alone.”
Karga eyes him, then nods and leans back. “I’m just surprised. I only ever saw one of you at a time and now there seems to be more.”
“Things changed,” Din says. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Karga doesn’t look satisfied but he doesn’t push. He reaches into a pocket and begins to pull out bounty pucks, placing each one down at a time. “You take the bail jumpers lately, so I presume you want more?”
Din pauses. He’s acutely aware of Kuiil on his shoulder, and Ari shifts pointedly beside him, her knee bumping his. He’s silent for a moment. “No,” he says. “We’re not taking any right now. Other business to attend to.”
Ari stiffens beside him. “What?” she says. Even the kid makes a puzzled noise. Din gives her a sharp look, then grabs his rifle and begins to stand.
“Other business,” he repeats. “We’re going.”
“Wait, Mando,” Karga calls. “Sit. I’ve got something that you might want in particular.”
Din pauses. He looks at Karga, then slowly begins to sit again. “Puck?”
“No puck for this. It’s not a typical hunt.” Karga glances at Kuiil. “You’re familiar with those.”
Din stares at him, then reaches up and pulls the kid off his shoulder. Kuiil makes a squeak as he falls into Din’s arms. “What?” Din asks, unamused. “If this is another--”
“No, no. Calm down. I’m not sending you to the Empire again. No puck or fob, because this isn’t a bounty hunt or Guild work. I can’t offer this to the others, but I can for a Mandalorian. I thought Vizla would be here sooner, but you’re here now.” Karga smirks, then leans closer. “Your clan might be interested.”
“Spit it out,” Din snaps. “What is it and how many credits?”
“No credits. Personal.” Karga folds his hands together. “I’ve come into possession of some intel regarding Moff Gideon and his cohorts.”
Din tenses, his grip on Kuiil tightening. “What about him?” he says.
“A base is being built on a moon. Small, under the New Republic’s radar. I have the coordinates to send you and the payment is ensuring this little one’s safety. Your covert flushed them out of this town, I’m sure you’re capable of hitting the Empire again before they have any strength built up.”
Din frowns. “I’ll mention it to the others.” He begins to stand again, holding his rifle in one hand and cradling the kid in the other.
Karga frowns. “I thought you’d be all over it,” he says. “To strike a blow against Moff Gideon before he can strike you first?”
“We aren’t all mercenaries,” Din says. “If Gideon shows himself, we’ll run him off again. We won’t risk Mandalorians on an unnecessary job and it isn’t my decision anyway. And we’re not going to mess with the Empire just to keep Gideon from seeking revenge against you .”
Karga stares at him. Then, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Mando,” he accuses. “You were going to burn this whole town to the ground to get that kid back and now you don’t seem interested in protecting him.”
“Come on,” Din says to Ari.
“Mando.”
“Send me the coordinates and I’ll speak with the covert,” Din snaps. “Leave it at that. I can’t promise anything.”
Karga doesn’t say any more.
Din turns and walks to the door, Ari trailing behind, and Kuiil squirms until Din loosens his hold. Kuiil climbs up and back onto a shoulder. As soon as they’ve left the bar, the door sliding shut behind them, Ari jogs to come to his side. “What the hell?” she says, and ignores his sharp look. “We don’t have any pucks.”
“We don’t,” Din says.
“I’m supposed to be hunting with you.”
“Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re going home,” Din says. “We’ll stop at the covert and drop you off. Paz can take you along on his hunts. The kid and I have things to do.”
Ari huffs. “Like what?”
“I need to take him to Takodana.”
At this, Kuiil makes a whine. “No!” he says. “I-- buir, yaim.”
“We are going home. Then to your lessons.”
“Nooo!”
Din rolls his eyes beneath the helmet. “Both of you need to stop. You’re going home and you’re going to Maz. I’m not arguing about it.”
Both kids fall silent. Through their bond, the child is projecting moodiness and irritation, so Din pushes up a shield and blocks him out. The presence gives a harsh shove against the shield as Kuiil also makes a whine, “buir,” but the shield holds and Din doesn’t respond.
Then the presence disappears, and Din lets the shield fall as they walk towards the ship. The wind blows harsh as ships around them land and take off, and they walk up into the Crest.
“Y’know,” Ari says, “it’s weird. It’s been years and the Empire is still after him. You’d think they’d have given up after so long.”
“Yeah, well,” Din grumbles, “let’s just hope they’re the only ones.”