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“Mando! Is that you under that bucket?” The gray-haired beta teased him as he stepped off the ship.
“Ran.” Din nodded at him.
“I didn’t really know if I’d ever see you in these parts again.” He reached out a hand to greet him. “Good to see you.”
Din took the man's hand and shook it once.
Ran gave him a toothy grin. Releasing his hand, he brought it up to pat his beskar pauldron. “You know, to be honest, I was a little surprised when you reached out to me.” He led Din to start walking. “You know, cause I… I hear things. Like, maybe things between you and the Guild aren’t working out.”
Of course Ran would know.
It seems like the whole galaxy knows at this point.
“I’ll be fine.” Din replied curtly. He’s not getting into that.
The mercenary smiled again and raised his hand. “Okay. Well, you know the policy. No questions. And you, you’re welcome back here anytime.”
That was the one good thing about Ran, he never asked any questions.
That’s helped him more times than he’d like to admit.
Din only found himself in the company of Ran and his associates after he began taking the suppressants. He only began doing jobs with him once he felt comfortable going out more and more.
Thus, he was never treated differently.
But he’s sure the beta will notice soon.
They walked for a little while, moving further and further from the Razor Crest.
“You know, I never realized you were an omega, Mando.” Ran casually commented, eyes staring ahead.
And there it was.
The policy might be no questions, but it didn’t say anything about speculation.
Din hummed in response, not giving anything away. He’s not exactly one for pleasantries, nor is he one for speculation. Ran can’t ask him questions, therefore Din isn’t obligated to give an answer.
“That certainly gives a different light to all those jobs we did back then, huh?” Ran pressed, still digging.
Well, Din’s still not going to give an answer.
“Sure does.” He says instead.
The silence stretches between them as the Mandalorian is sure that Ran is trying to find a way to get a reaction out of him.
Good luck with that.
People say that he has the best poker face.
“So, what’s the job?” Din finally asks. He needs those credits to feed the foundling and he’s not going to get said credits if they keep playing chicken.
Not that Din would be one to give in first.
“Well, one of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So, I’m putting together a crew to spring him. It’s a five person job, I got four.” Ran explained.
Classic rescue mission then. Should be easy.
“All I need is the ride and you brought it.”
Wait.
“The ship wasn’t part of the deal.” Din turned to him. He was hoping to leave the kid on the ship this time and keep him out of the line of fire.
How does this keep happening?
“Well, the Crest is the only reason I let you back in here.” Ran shrugged.
Din glared at him.
“What’s with the look?” Ran teased him. “Is that gratitude?” He laughs as if he made a funny joke. “Mhm I think it is.”
Din can’t believe this guy.
“Here, let me introduce you to the group.” The man beckoned him with a hand, leading him elsewhere.
They approached a bald-headed man with a scruffy jawline. An alpha.
“Hey, Mayfield.” Ran called out to him.
“Yeah?” The alpha answered, cocking a gun. They had quite the armory here.
“This is Mando, the guy I was telling you about.” Ran introduced him. “We used to do jobs way back when.”
“This is the guy?” Mayfield asked doubtfully. He frowned. Probably noticed his scent by now.
Din raised his chin slightly, daring him to comment on it.
“Yeah, we were all young, tryin’ to make a name for ourselves.” Ran blundered on, either not noticing the tension or not caring about it. “Yeah, but runnin’ with a Mandalorian, that was… brought us some reputation.”
“Oh yeah?” Mayfield sniffed. Din’s scent was probably bothering him. Loser. “What’d he get out of it?”
“I asked him that one time.” Ran chuckled, smacking the back of his hand against his chestplate. “You remember what you said, Mando?”
Din remained silent. Ran always did like to tell his own stories.
“Target practice.” The beta enunciated at Mayfield. Then he burst out laughing. “Hah! Target practice!”
Mayfield raised an eyebrow, looking from the older man to the Mandalorian.
Ran calmed down with a sigh. “Yeah, we did some crazy stuff, didn’t we?”
They did, but Din isn’t one to reminisce.
He has no time for that.
“That was a long time ago.” He said. The bald alpha looked at him funny, as if he wasn’t expecting him to talk.
“Well,” Ran composed himself. “I don’t go out much anymore. You understand? Mayfield will run point on this job, so anything he says, it’s like it’s comin’ from me. You good with that?”
“You tell me.” Din replied sarcastically. He’s not sure his tone made it through the modulator, but he doesn’t particularly care.
Ran laughed once more. “Ah, Mando, you haven’t changed one bit.”
“Yeah well, things have changed around here.” Mayfield butts in sharply before wandering away.
“Yeah, Mayfield is one of the best triggermen I’ve ever seen.” Ran leans in closer to Din. “Former imperial sharpshooter.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“I wasn’t a stormtrooper, wiseass!” The alpha shouts at him, angered.
Well this guy has a short-temper.
Classic alpha.
“Razor Crest? I can’t believe that thing can still fly.” Mayfield scoffs. “Looks like a Canto Bight slot machine.”
Rude.
The Razor Crest is probably much more reliable than some of the other ships out there.
“That good-looking fellow there with the horns, that’s Burg. This may surprise you, but he’s our muscle.” Mayfield continued as if he didn’t just insult a man’s home.
The large Devaronian dropped his crate and walked towards them.
The irrepressible scent of an alpha presses down on Din’s nose.
It makes him want to sneeze.
Not only that, but the guy stinks. Reeks of body odor.
Din really does not want him on the Razor Crest.
Burg gets up into Din’s face.
“This is a Mandalorian?” He asks, hot breath pouring through the filter of his buy’ce . “He smells like a prissy little omega bitch.”
Din stiffens.
“Easy there, Burg.” Ran cautions him. “Don’t let his scent fool you. He’s still a very capable mercenary.”
"Yeah?" Burg scoffed. "How about we test how capable he is?"
Din felt his heart beat faster. His fingers twitched, ready for action.
He can take down a Devaronian.
They can’t be too different from T’surrs.
"Hey!" Mayfield presses a hand to the large red chest, probably attempting to push him away. No such luck of course. "Save it for the job, Burg."
The large alpha stares into the T-visor for a moment until he snorts and backs up.
Din allowed himself to outwardly relax, but that display left him feeling uneasy about the job.
This had to be a bad idea.
He should just leave.
A droid walked out, catching his attention.
“Droid’s name is Zero, by the way.” Mayfield added, watching him closely.
Before Din could say anything, a familiar scent stopped him.
“I couldn’t help but notice the commotion over here.” The purple Twi’lek crept out of the shadows. “Hello, Mando.” She smiled at him, running her tongue over her teeth.
“Xi’an.” He acknowledged her. He didn’t dislike her, per say, but he didn’t necessarily like her either. Their last job ended with her a little less than happy with him.
He kind of left her brother behind.
Not that it was his fault.
She suddenly laughed. “You wear that new scent well! That and your shiny new beskar.” She drew closer, closer than Din was usually comfortable with. “Between the two of them, it’s like you’re a completely new man.” Xi’an ran a clawed finger down his breastplate. “How ironic that one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy is a mewling little omega.” She whispered.
Din clenched his jaw.
Ignore her.
Do it for the credits.
For his next meal.
For the child.
Brown eyes sparkling as he chomped down on a cookie. High-pitched laughter as Din hands the child a new stuffed toy. Tiny claws tapping his leg as he tries to get his attention…
“Do we need to leave the room or something?” Mayfield interrupted. “‘Cause there’s something weird going on over here.”
Xi’an cackled and stepped back from him.
He relaxed ever so slightly. It wasn’t enough.
“Ah well, Xi’an’s been a little heartbroken ever since Mando left our group.” Ran said, chuckling slightly.
There was some more banter between them after that, but Din didn’t catch any of it.
He was trying to slow his heart rate.
Everyone just wants a piece of him today, don’t they?
Din tries not to hiss as the mercenaries pile themselves onto his ship.
Into his territory.
He needs to keep a close eye on them.
So this job isn’t going to be as easy as he hoped.
They were breaking this guy out of a New Republic prison ship.
That’s not what Din signed up for.
This job could get the eye of the New Republic onto him and he can’t handle fending off bounty hunters and avoiding the New Republic.
He could certainly try, but he probably won’t last very long. At least not without a covert to rely on.
Din hopped down from the cockpit and turned to see the Devaronian going through his armory.
Clicking a button on his vambrace, he closed it.
The red alpha yanked his hand out before it closed on his appendage. He turned his head and noticed Din standing behind him. He growled and advanced on him, pushing closer.
His stench invaded Din’s nose once more.
He screwed up his face.
Why does everyone insist on getting up in his face?
All this posturing is getting on his nerves and the alpha pheromones are going to be difficult to get out of the Razor Crest.
“Okay, hey, hey,” Mayfield said, either trying to calm Din or Burg down. “Look, I’m a little particular about my personal space too, so can we just get this job done? You won’t ever have to see our faces again.”
“Why do we even need a Mandalorian?” Burg growled. “We don’t need one. Especially not this one.”
Din bristled. That’s the second time.
“Well, they’re supposed to be the greatest warriors in the galaxy.” Mayfield remarked. “Ran just happened to know this one, so we get what we get.”
“Aw, don’t say that about him.” Xi’an purred. “He’s actually quite ferocious.”
All these indirect stabs at his dignity is really starting to wear his patience thin.
Mayfield hummed. “So he never takes off his helmet, right?”
“This is The Way.” The purple-skinned alpha mocked him.
Burg laughed deeply, still standing way too close.
Din should just kill all of them right now and claim their bounties. That should be just enough to match whatever amount Ran is offering him.
Considering that he’d end up turning them all in piece by piece.
“To be fair, I’d never want to show my face either if I was an omega surrounded by Mandalorians.” Mayfield laughed.
Din clenched his fist.
This is really starting to get tiresome.
Over and over again with the same jabs, the same comments.
Everyone thinks the same way about him.
“Listen to me, Din.” His buir once told him. “Never feel ashamed to be an omega. Never. This is a great honor that aruetiise will not understand. The Mando’ade know your worth, you know your worth. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Din deflated.
He didn’t need to prove himself to these people.
He’s accepted who he is.
He’s met an outsider who sees him for him.
“You ever see his face, Xi’an?” Mayfield asked her.
“Oh, a lady never tells.” She says, caressing her lekku.
She’s definitely never seen his face.
She’s just spouting bantha fodder to gain attention herself.
“Why don’t you lift up your helmet, Mando?” The bald man suggested, grinning. “Just slow us a little something, huh?”
He nodded to the Devaronian.
Grinning, the red humanoid reached out for Din’s buy’ce.
That Din will not tolerate.
The Mandalorian knocked the hands away from his face, shoving the alpha away from him.
They will not disgrace him like tha–
He knocked the man into the control panel and the door to the sleeping area slid open.
The child stood there, head tilted to the side.
Kriff.
Mayfield stood up abruptly. “Whoa! What is that?” He approached the green child.
Din tracked his movements intently. Watching every step he takes and every movement he makes.
He takes in his body language for any tensed muscles indicating an attack, any expression of aggression that would require Din’s intervention.
The alpha reached forward, picking up the child. “You get lonely up here, Mando?”
Din’s jaw clenched at the alpha holding his foundling.
The child cooed, confused at the strange man holding him.
Don’t. Hurt. Him.
Din swallowed a growl, biting his tongue.
One wrong movement could cause any sort of abrupt change in attitude.
“What is this? Like a pet or somethin’?” He asked him.
A pet?! His inner omega snarled and clawed to be set free. He has the child. If he hurts him, the alpha will not live for much longer.
The omega licks his lips and swallows dryly. “Yeah. Something like that.” He rasps.
Put him down. Put him down, now.
Din’s fingers want to reach out to the child, take him back from the untrustworthy alpha and hide him away.
Keep him from the potential danger. Keep him safe.
His eyes were focused on the brown eyes staring back at him.
He missed what Mayfield said.
His heart was pounding in his throat.
The alpha pretended to drop him.
Din’s heart almost drops down to his stomach as his arms flinch forward instinctively.
Mayfield grins triumphantly. “Or is this you pu–”
“Dropping out of hyperspace now.”
The whole ship trembled and jerked, throwing the passengers around.
Din moved with the turbulence and dropped, catching the foundling falling out of Mayfield’s grip before he hit the floor.
“Commencing final approach, now.”
The Razor Crest swirled in a dizzying maneuver, the Mandalorian keeping a tight hold on the bundle in his arms.
“Cloaking signal, now.
“Engaging coupling, now.
“Coupling confirmed. We are down.”
Din quickly pulled himself to his feet and moved to the sleeping area, setting the child back onto the mattress.
“And relax. Commence extraction, now.”
Din brushed off the child’s clothes. “Sorry about that.” He whispered. “Stay here, I’ll be back.” Then he closed the door.
The infiltration wasn’t too difficult.
Until Burg shot the cleaning droid.
The security droids were upon them within minutes.
His “teammates” did nothing while Din took down all four of the droids. That four quickly turned into six.
They’re osi’yaim.
Mayfield and the Devaronia stood there with their mouths agape while Xi’an laughed and skipped past them, winking at the Mandalorian on the way by.
They made it to the control room, Mayfield ordering the Zero open up the door.
The door slid open and a single man scrambled out of his seat, holding out a blaster.
“Stop!” He commanded, voice slightly shaky. “Just stop, right there!”
He was young.
“Y-You put down your blasters right now.” He said again, breathing heavily.
The scent of fear clouded the room and made Din’s stomach churn.
Mayfield sauntered into the room. “Nice shoes.” He commented easily.
“P-Put down your blasters.” The man, a beta, tried again. He switched his aim from one figure to the next, not sure who to point the weapon at.
“Matches his belt.” Mayfield jokes again, earning a laugh from the other two mercenaries.
This could get ugly very fast.
“There were only supposed to be droids on this ship.” Din growled.
“Hang on, hang on.” Mayfield held a finger up, tapping away at the controls. “Cell 221.” He announced. Then he turned around. “Now for our well-dressed friend…”
The New Republic guard pulled a little white box from his pocket, holding it up threateningly.
That got the bald alpha’s attention. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, egghead.” He held up his hands in a placating manner. “Put that down. Put that down! Now!”
The tension in the room was rising exponentially.
The guard was going to die if no one did anything.
“Easy.” Din kept his voice level to try to regain control of the quickly spiraling situation. “Easy. Nobody has to get hurt here. Just calm down.”
“What is that thing?” Burg asked loudly.
“It’s a tracking beacon.” Din explained.
“If he presses that thing, we’re all done for.” Mayfield elaborated. “A New Republic attack team will hone in on that signal and blow us all to hell.” His voice was slowly rising.
Din moved forward. “Hey,” he tried to get the beta’s attention. “Hey, hey, listen to me, okay? Look.” He put the blaster back into its holster. Then he gestured to Mayfield. “Put it down.” He commanded.
“Seriously?” The alpha complained.
“Put. It. Down.” Din repeated. He turned back to the guard. “Hey, hey, what’s your name?”
The guard swallowed multiple times before he spoke. “D-Davan.” His hands trembled.
“Davan.” Din repeated, trying to soothe the man. “We’re not here for you, we’re here for a prisoner. If you let us go about our job, you can walk away with your life.”
Please just let them do the job.
“No he won’t.” Mayfield said, holding back up his blaster.
Are you-
Din pulled his blaster on him. “Quit it. You realize what you’re going to bring down on us?”
“You think I care about that?”
The Mandalorian readjusted his stance and inched his way closer to Davan. “You should.”
“Get that blaster out of my face, Mando!” Mayfield’s aggression began to climb higher.
Din needed to deescalate the situation now.
But what could he do?
A room full of aggressive alphas.
What could he do about that?
He breathed out slowly, hoping that this would work.
He couldn’t let an innocent man die. Not only that, but he really didn’t need the New Republic on his tail.
“Okay.” He said softly, lowering his hand. He slowly moved the blaster to the holster again, making his movements obvious to try to keep their eyes on his right hand. With his left, Din wiggled his hand part-way out of his glove. Hoping that he was calmer than he felt, he exposed his scent gland.
He bit his lip behind his visor and focused on soothing those in the room.
Calming them down.
No one needs to get hurt.
They don’t need to kill anyone.
He was lucky that his target audience were alphas.
They were most susceptible to scents.
Din breathed deeply and trusted that his physiology would help him this one time.
He can’t smell his own scent so he could only pray that it was working.
“What are you… oh.” Mayfields blaster was slowly lowered.
Burg sagged against the controls and Xi’an swayed from side to side.
From the corner of his visor, Din saw Davan relax as well, blaster dropping to the floor.
Studying each of the beings in the room, Din conceded that he might have over done it a bit.
Once they were sufficiently… intoxicated? Drugged? Din wasn’t sure what to call that, he suggested to them in a low voice, “Why don’t we just cuff him or tie him up?”
Mayfield blinked slowly. “Tie… him up?” His eyes moved to the Mandalorian, forehead wrinkling. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”
Using his extra cable, Din ties Davan to a chair. He gave no form of resistance. Din then takes the guard’s blaster while also pocketing the tracking beacon that fortunately hasn’t been activated.
He lets out a sigh of relief.
One potential crisis averted.
Now he had to deal with…
He looked at the three alphas in the room. They all looked… very out of it. They were staring at different parts of the room with half-lidded eyes.
Din might need to wait this out.
Fortunately, it didn’t take too long.
Maybe around five minutes.
“Ohh, that’s the good stuff.” Xi’an moans, giggling quietly. “I wouldn’t mind being hit by that once in a while.”
“What… the hell was that?” Mayfield muttered, rolling his shoulders and looking at his hands. He flexed his fingers.
Burg still sat against the control table with his head tilted up towards the ceiling.
Din was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His wrist had been covered for a while.
“Are you all ready to go? Or do you need a few more minutes?” He asked them.
“Huh?” Mayfield turned to him. Then he noticed Davan tied up in a chair. “How did you…” His voice turned hard as he stalked forward, pointing an accusing finger at the omega’s breastplate. “Did you drug us, Mando?!”
“Oh, shut up, Mayfield.” Xi’an rolled her eyes and stood up, seeming to return to her senses. “Our little omega just hit us with a very potent form of aerosolized muscle relaxants.” She grins and winks at him from the corner of her eye. “That can make any alpha drop within minutes.”
Din shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Let’s keep moving then.”
“Now hold on!” Mayfield tells him. “You can’t just do something like that and move on!”
“If we want to get this job done before this ship reaches its destination, then I suggest we move now. ” Din says sharply.
The alpha’s mouth snaps shut. Din could see the man’s jaw grinding.
Fortunately, he wins the staring contest when Mayfield huffs and walks for the door. Xi’an was already passing through the doorway with a skip in her step. “C’mon, Burg!” Mayfield ordered.
The Devaronian suddenly jolted into action and followed the bald alpha on unsteady steps.
He didn’t even glance at Din on the way by.
Din headed for the door as well, but then paused when he heard a soft Thank you.
Not giving a response, he continued into the hall.
The group made their way to Cell 221, slinking by any other group of security droids.
Once to the cell, Mayfield shoved a connection point into the keyhole for the droid to open back on the ship.
“Alright, open it up, Z.”
The mechanism rotated back and forth, clicking as it searched for the correct code.
Soon enough, it stopped and the door to the cell opened.
A very familiar purple-skinned Twi’lek stood on the other side.
“Qin.” Din can’t believe that he was sent to save the man that he left behind.
“Funny, the man who left me behind is now my savior.” The male Twi’lek voiced his thoughts, stepping into the corridor.
“Brother!” Xi’an shrieked in delight.
“Sister!” The two alphas embraced.
“Alright, we good to go?” Mayfield asked, looking at the group.
“Just one moment.” Qin said. He approached Din.
The armored man had a bad feeling about this.
The Twi’lek smiled, showing all his teeth. “We don’t require your services anymore, Mando. ”
With a roar, he grabbed Din’s shoulders and twisted, throwing him into the cell he was just released from.
The Mandalorian hit the wall with a grunt and slid to the floor.
When he looked up, the cell door was already shut.
The group outside laughed loudly, all jeering at him.
Din groaned internally.
This job was sketchy from the start.
He knew he shouldn’t have reached out to Ran for a job.
“Hah! You deserve this, Mando!” Xi’an screeched, staring through the bars.
“Have fun being turned in to the New Republic!” Qin sneered at him.
The New Republic.
Din slipped a hand into his pocket.
The tracking beacon.
He clicked the button.
For a moment, nothing happened.
The mercenaries continued to shout taunts and jokes that Din really didn’t pay attention to.
Until…
“Uh, guys?” Mayfield interrupted them.
Qin groaned in annoyance. “What?”
“Z said that there’s a New Republic distress signal homing in on us.”
Xi’an hissed. “Ugh, really? I knew we shouldn’t have let that dumb beta live!”
“We can still kill him.” Burg inputs gruffly.
“No. We’re done here.” Qin says. “Get me off this ship.”
Mayfield grunts an affirmation and the footsteps outside the door fade away.
Din stands and takes a note of his body.
Just bruises. He’ll be fine.
Now he needs to get out of this cell.
He’s not letting those mercenaries take the Razor Crest or the child.
They’re not leaving this ship.
Din escapes his cell using the arm of a passing security droid.
He makes quick work of it and he runs back towards the control room.
He’ll need to stop them from getting to the Razor Crest.
The Mandalorian races into the control room, quickly shutting off the lights in the ship and closing the section doors to separate the group of mercenaries.
Easier to pick off that way.
“W-What are you doing?” Davan asks, still tied to his chair.
Oh. Right.
Din turns to him and the beta flinches back.
“Easy,” Din says in a low voice. He moved towards him and reached out to start untying the cable.
“Why are you letting me go?” The man questions him, voice slightly more steady.
Din stays silent, working at the knots.
He unravels the cord and wraps it back up, stuffing them into a pocket.
Davan sits up straighter, rubbing his hands. “What are you-”
Din pushes the man’s blaster back into his hands. “Go hide somewhere. I’ll take care of them.”
He takes the blaster back with shaky hands. “But- why-”
“Go.” Din repeats firmly.
Davan hesitates once more, but then he complies.
“T-Thank you again. Very much.”
Then he turns and runs out the door, presumably to find a safe place.
Din works his magic and easily dispatches the group of mercenaries.
He deposits them into a cell.
He’s had enough of these people.
Din makes it to the Crest just in time to catch Qin at the ladder.
“Qin.” He calls.
The man pauses. “You killed the others. Didn’t you?”
Well not exactly, but he didn’t need to know that.
“They got what they deserved.”
“Whatever Ran promised, I’ll make sure you get it, and more.” Qin negotiated.
Din kept his blaster raised.
“Come on, Mando. Be reasonable, huh?” Qin tried again. “You were hired to do a job, right? So do it.”
Those credits better be worth it.
“Turn around.” Din commanded, motioning with his blaster.
“Alright,” Qin shrugged and turned around, holding his hands up.
Din strode forward and, for the second time that day, tied someone up with his extra grappling cable.
He should probably invest in handcuffs at this point.
“Go.”
The Twi’lek hesitated. “How do I go up the ladder with-”
Din tapped the blaster against his back. “Figure it out.” He replied unyieldingly.
After a whole two minutes of trying to hold in his laughter, they were back on the Razor Crest.
That picture would forever be ingrained in the Mandalorian’s memory.
Din has no problem taking out the droid that pointed a blaster at the child. A single shot through its chest was enough to disable it.
“You okay, kid?” He asked, just to make sure.
The child waved a hand at him. “Bueh.”
Din smiled beneath his helmet. “Good.”
“So you’re an omega now?”
“I can still kill you.”
Qin promptly shut up.
The ramp lowered, opening up to the inside of Ran’s space station.
They descended the ramp, Din keeping Qin in front of him.
“Where are the others?” Ran predictably asked.
“No questions asked. That’s the policy, right?” Din could’ve sworn he saw the man’s eyebrow twitch.
“Yeah, that is the policy.” Ran said, watching him.
“I did the job.” Din hinted.
Just give him the kriffing credits already.
“That you did.” Ran reached out a hand, offering him a bag.
There better be at least 10,000 credits in there or Din might strangle someone.
He takes the bag and nods at him. “Just like the good old days.”
Then he turns and walks back up into the Razor Crest as Ran agrees with him.
Once the door is closed, Din races up to the cockpit and starts the launching sequence, orange fingers flipping switches and pulling levers.
He planted the tracking beacon on Qin and he has no idea how much more time they have before the New Republic pilots get here.
The Razor Crest groans as it leaves the port, whirring away into space.
Just before Din jumps into hyperspace, two New Republic X-wings drop into space.
He swerves to avoid them and, with no small amount of satisfaction, watches them attack Ran’s station.
He activates the hyperdrive and the stars in the distance suddenly begin to streak by.
Din finally sighs, relieved.
He turns the chair around to look at the child.
“I told you that was a bad idea.”
The foundling giggles at him, making grabby hands.
“Yeah, we should probably check how much we got.”
The omega opened the bag and spilled the credits onto his hand.
Making an estimate, Din smiled.
“Looks like Ran still came through for us.” Even though he tried to kill him. “We got about 22,000 credits here.”
The child cooed in response, ears flicking up.
“What do you say to another resupply stop?”
“Pa-too!”