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Other than a few plastic marbles that accompanied Boba during his “free time”, whether it be racing two at a time down a ramp to see which would come out victorious or playing his own version of sharpshooting called ‘bullseye’ as he aimed them at some designated point, he had nothing to entertain himself during his daily doses of boredom.
Boba seldomly spoke with anyone; not when his father was out, at least.
The Kaminoans were no fun, either; too serious.
It was times like these where he would keep a keen ear for the familiar sound of the clanking of beskar against the metallic floors outside. He found himself lucky when he heard just that, soon shooting up from the edge of the bed he’d been seated on, allowing the handful of marbles he’d been fumbling with to fall awry on the floor, to sprint toward the door to be met with the figure of his father clad in his familiar, silver armor.
“You’re back!” Boba could practically throw his hands up in elation— well, if he really wanted to, he could.
In one, groggy motion, Jango removed his helmet to reveal a tired visage, but always ready to meet the ten-year-old before him. “I always come back.” A dauntless claim from his part, but soon allowed himself to unravel as he held his arms wide open.
Boba took the hint and ran over to bury himself in his father’s embrace. “Are you going to be staying awhile this time?”
“Awhile could mean different things to different people,” Jango cradled the back of Boba’s head, caressing his short, brown locks with tender hands. “But to me, it will be awhile, son.”
Boba seemed pleased with the response.
“Good,” Boba nodded his head pridefully. “I don’t like playing with marbles very much.” In the meanwhile, Jango settled down against the bedside, setting his helmet above a bedside table as Boba rambled on about how his day was rather dull and uneventful without the company.
However, the glistening of the beskar caught his eye, the shape of the helmet drawing him in which caused him to forget his previous train of thought. He’d never given it much thought, until now; it was totally wizard.
Jango, with a rather acute observation, noticed Boba’s awe, and a small smirk pulled itself upward from the corner of his lips. “You like that, huh?” Jango observed, soon reaching for the helmet he’d set aside and bringing it closer to Boba’s line of sight. “This, son…” He handed the piece over, allowing the boy to handle it. “… Will be yours, someday.”
Boba didn’t have to be asked twice; he took the helmet without a second thought and inspected every ridge, dent, and patch of grime.
“Let’s hope that day won’t come too soon.” Jango added.
“The sooner the better!” Boba exclaimed, clearly not understanding the implications to his father’s words at his young age.
Jango smiled fondly at Boba’s enthusiasm, only increasing in size as the boy slipped on the helmet.
He saw himself in Boba; not only because the boy was made exactly from his genetic material and resembled Jango exactly when he was a child himself, but the way Boba carried himself and impersonated him, his father, in the hopes of one day growing up to be the spitting image of him was a thought Jango found himself lingering on often.
The dreaded sound of a comlink interrupted their comfortable silence. Jango instinctively looked down toward his wrist to acknowledge the signal.
Boba knew what that meant, and his stance visibly slumped.
“You just got home,” Boba, visibly dejected with the turn of events, removed the helmet to reveal a despondent frown. “But you’re going away, again.”
“I…” Jango couldn’t find an excuse. “… yes.”
He stood up, his back straining beneath his armor; if his work didn’t kill him, then the undeniable back pain would.
“Something’s come up, and I need to tend to it.” He noticed how Boba begrudgingly handed the piece of his armor back to him. “I’m sorry, son.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, affectionately. “I shouldn’t be long.”
It was something Boba had grown tired of hearing from his father, but arguments were off the table. Jango seemed to notice his discontent, which led him to kneel against one knee before the grumpy boy.
“It doesn’t mean I love you any less.” He reassured, his words fact. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Boba’s downturned gaze flicked up to meet his father’s comforting one. “I understand, but…” A huff left the disheartened boy. “Do you have to go right now?”
Jango paused, pensively, before offering Boba a consoling smile.
“No.” Jango claimed, placing the previously acquired helmet back down and leading Boba to settle down beside him.
“Not right now.”