"So. You're the emissary she sent."

Poe found himself standing a little straighter as Fett strode into the room. He didn't look like the head chieftan of an entire system. His armor was the same style as the other Mandalorians he had seen, but older, more dated. Scratched and dented. The man could easily camouflage himself in a scrapyard.

"I'm Captain Poe Dameron," he answered, a little surprised when the older man went right past him. "And you must be Boba Fett."

"I must be." He tossed his helmet on a cot in the corner opened a panel on the opposite wall. "You wasted your time coming here."

"She said you'd say that."

Fett turned back around with a round biscuit in his hand and a smirk on his face. "That sounds about right." His cool brown eyes gave Poe a once over. "And she thought you were the right man for this pointless errand. How's that feel?" He took a bite of the biscuit, somehow injecting scorn and a little amusement into the simple gesture.

"I volunteered." Poe had always had a certain fascination with Mandalorian people and culture. They had some legendary pilots in their history, and the word in the alleys and cantinas was that Mandal Motors was creating some visionary new ship tech behind closed doors. Any potential alliance could be a turning point for the Resistance.

But there was the other things. Things that Leia told him during what she called "the unverified gossip briefing." In Fett's bounty hunting days he worked for the gangster Jabba the Hutt, and during a brief infiltration of Jabba's palace, Leia had heard some interesting things about Boba Fett from the dancers and slaves.

Maybe not pertinent things, necessarily, but very interesting things.

"You want one?"

Poe's attention snapped back to the Mand'alor. The older man held up the half-eaten biscuit and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"No. Thank you. I've eaten."

"I never seem to have time to eat these days." Fett grumbled, momentarily abandoning his meal for a disposable water pack.

"You have a lot going on?"

"You could say that. Did the princess tell you what happened to the last emissary she sent?"

"She said he defected."

"Fekking right. Found himself a nice Mandalorian husband and became a baker. Made these." He picked up his biscuit again. "I know some young men, if you're interested."

Poe smiled before he could help himself, and then shook his head. "I don't see myself ever getting married."

"Good. The more you have, the more you have to lose." Fett took one last swig of water and set down the canteen. "My supper break's over. Give the princess my regards."

"I'm-" It wasn't the smoothest transition, but Poe plunged ahead. "I'm more into older men anyway."

He found himself focusing on the Mand'alor's gloved hand as it slowly withdrew from the neck of the canteen and settled at his belt. When Poe raised his eyes to Fett's face, he was relieved to see a shadow of amusement on the man's face.

"So that's her plan? Send me the prettiest face and the tightest ass the Resistance has to offer?"

Heat crept into Poe's cheeks, but he held the other man's gaze. Maybe if he played this carefully, he'd get to see that Mandal Motors tech. "No. This wasn't part of her plan."

"Hm." Fett took a step toward him, his eyes measuring but no longer cool. "Remember that, when you wake up tomorrow morning and want to try on my helmet."