Chapter 6: Taking a Shot

Phystte blasted the harvap's wings to shreds, its piercing screeches thankfully dulled by the vibration mufflers in her helmet. The creature flailed its bloody wings as it fell to the ground, hissing loudly and striking out viciously toward the Mandalorian cautiously circling it. Torian danced away from the sudden strikes, found the opening he was looking for and whacked it solidly on the head once then twice for good measure, the mangled animal finally stilled and lifeless. Its neck twisted eerily on the ground, blood pooling around it. One of the torn wings propped up awkwardly, flapping in the slight breeze like some decrepit war flag. The hunter flicked her blasters quickly before holstering them and walked over to the creature, kicking at the heap.

"Well, that was exciting," she huffed, glancing a couple yards over at the first one they killed, its body still scorching from the rockets she'd rained down on it not even a minute ago. Torian attached his tech staff to the back of his armor and pulled off his helmet then tried to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead with the inside of his glove. It only seemed to spread around the grime though and he didn't feel any less damp from the action.

"Glad you figured out to clip the wings on the second one," he added. "Went down much faster than the first." He motioned his helmet toward her arm before clipping it to his belt. "Copaani gaan?"

Phystte glanced over at her arm then followed his gaze down at the blood dripping from her bracer. That first harvap had gotten a hold of her shoulder and managed to maul her before she'd figured out where to shoot it. Her medpac had taken the edge off most of the pain, but it hadn't been enough to heal up her wound much. Mako would have done a better job of it even in the midst of a battle and had been training the Hunter more on the medic side of things, but she still didn't have the finesse for it that her tech did. Phystte cursed under her breath before unlatching her armguard to try and get a better look at it. Torian had reached her side before she had removed it though and he pulled off his gloves, setting them into his empty helmet before reaching over to her arm.

"Let me," he started. Phystte complied without complaint since it hurt a bit to try and take it off with one hand anyway. He helped her pull off her headgear first so she could take in some fresh air. The burning harvap didn't smell any worse than a burnt fowl, and even so the eastern breeze took the scent further away from them with each small gust. He slipped off her gauntlet, then her bracer and armguard, frowning slightly at the way her under-shirt stuck to her arm awkwardly with all the red liquid and the blood seeping in further beneath the main part of her armor. Torian cleared his throat. "Looks like we need to take off your chestpiece."

"Now who's trying to take whose shirt off?" Phystte quipped, trying to grin despite the pain but it came out more like a crooked grimace.

"Figured it was about time to even our playing field," he said with a slight smirk. At her permissive motion, Torian unlatched her armor for her and pulled it free, setting it on the ground. Phystte got a look at the mangled flesh peeking out from her torn up undershirt. She gently tried to lift some of it up to see how much the harvap got to her. Torian looked at the wound with her then rubbed the back of his neck. "Haar'chak. Going to have to get your shirt off as well."

"Don't act so disappointed," Phystte commented at his Mando'a curse. "You'll make a girl feel unwanted."

"Nu'ni besom," he replied, sounding a little like he'd been offended somehow. She raised one of her brows in a quizzical look but he didn't clarify. Carefully, Torian untied the front of her undershirt, which folded over much like a robe, then opened it up the left side while Phystte kept a wary eye on their perimeter. Nothing but the red dirt and cliffs of Quesh surrounded them along with some patches of sad looking shrubberies and a couple sparse trees. They were pretty far out and had killed any hostiles on their way through, so they were relatively safe for the moment. Slowly, he lifted the shoulder part of her robe up and she winced slightly as he pulled the blood-sticky fabric off the wound. Finally taking a good look at the gashes she sighed, glad to see the damage wasn't as awful as it first appeared.

"Jate. Doesn't look too bad," Torian noted, trying to keep his focus on her injury. Despite his previous comment, his eyes wandered over the exposed skin of her left side while Phystte fished through her belt for a couple kolto packets. Thinly-lined tattoos decorated her arm, shoulder, waist, and even over the ripe plumpness of her breast. When he caught himself staring at that particular part of her body, the delicate lines of swirling ink curling over her skin and disappearing beneath her brassiere, he forced himself to snap his gaze back to the wound on her shoulder before she turned to hand him the kolto. The harvap had only been able to really maul her at the weak point in her armor. With the padding and durasteel in the way, it had looked far worse than it was. He ripped open the first packet and gently smoothed the gel over her shoulder. She hissed in a pained breath and Torian grinned just barely at that.

"What's so funny?" Phystte demanded, feeling a little on edge from the pain. Cool relief suddenly flooded throughout her shoulder and her wired muscles released a touch of their tight tension, though her brows still pursed slightly from the discomfort.

"Never thought I'd be patching up the Champion," Torian mentioned lightly. "Or hunting with her."

Phystte smiled at that. "Well, in all fairness, I never thought I'd be adopted by the Mandalorians, or have one on my crew either."

Torian glanced down at her form, feeling a deep-heated flush spread over him as he admired the Hunter's body while her attention was focused on her injury. Phystte's tawny skin reminded him of uj'ayl, a rich syrup used in Mandalorian cooking and he vaguely wondered if she tasted like it. Her toned muscles shimmered with sweat and her shorter height made her curves even more prominent out of her armor. After taking a second look at her tattoos, he realized most of the scrolling designs entwined various scars. They were pretty and thin, much like the ones covering the scars around her eyes. He wondered what they meant, if anything at all, and he guessed she must have gotten her tattoos after collecting many of those injuries.

Clearing his throat, Torian blinked back to his task and opened another packet of kolto, smoothing it over the nearly healed skin before he caught Phystte's cool-blue eyes glinting at him knowingly. He turned his focus back to her shoulder, waiting until the fizzling stopped then wiped away the gel to reveal the fresh mottled pink skin. Torian noted a little sadly that the lines that had graced her shoulder were now completely gone in those spots, interrupting the design that had been there before. He was curious to know whether she'd get them redone to disguise this new scar as well. Secretly, he hoped she would.

Phystte glanced down at her shoulder, shrugged it forward and back as if to check to see that everything was still working properly, then pulled her bloodied shirt back over her skin and tied it closed. Torian immediately turned away, looking up the cliffs and around their surroundings like he was checking their perimeter. She heard him mutter something under his breath, caught that besom word again then grinned at the act he was trying to put on as he scoped the area. Wondering if she should let him get away with thinking she hadn't noticed him looking her over or not, she put her armor back on. He'd turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at her once she started latching up and the Hunter took that opportunity to tease him.

"Guess there isn't as much to see when I've got my armor on, eh?" She started in. Torian turned around to face her now, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Always a good view with you around," he quickly replied. The comment shouldn't have made her blush, he'd already mentioned he enjoyed the 'view' back on the ship, but for some reason she still did. Phystte's smile widened and she even laughed a little. In response, the corners of Torian's mouth tipped up in a half-smile and he scratched the back of his head, seeming uncertain of what to do next. He finally settled on something and his expression went slightly grave. "N'eparavu takisit. Shouldn't have been looking at you like that though. Not without your consent."

The Hunter recognized the apologetic phrase in Mando'a, her smile not diminishing. Instead she strolled toward the Mandalorian, closing the distance between them until she was close enough to have to look up in order to watch his eyes. "What if I told you that you already had my consent? Would you still be a besom?"

Torian actually chuckled at that, the sound making Phystte bite her lip slightly as she wondered whether she guessed the term right or not. She'd thought it meant something derogatory, but she couldn't be quite certain. For all she knew, she could have asked him if he was a woman. He composed himself quickly and looked down at her, the smirk still there marking the longest amount of time she'd seen Torian hold a smile. "Nayc. N'taylir ner ijaat, nu'ni besom. Like you say, with your consent, I'm not a besom."

Phystte raised a suspicious brow. "You know it's really unfair when you go saying things when I don't know what they mean."

He went straight-faced again which disappointed her, but looked like he would give her a better explanation about what he said so she'd forgive the sudden disappearance of his smile. "Besom is someone without any manners, a lout."

She thought about that for a moment then gave him a devilish look. "You know, I'm not entirely sure you aren't a besom then." Torian managed to look hurt for a few seconds, to which she immediately requited him with an apologetic expression. "I'm just teasing, Torian. I don't really think you're an ill-mannered lout," Phystte assured him. "You're probably the most polite man I've ever met."

Somehow Torian managed to stand up straighter at the comment, though she wondered how since he had impeccable posture to begin with. His clearly proud reaction widened the grin on her lips and she shook her head at the man, thinking how much like a boy he was despite all his protests of not being a kid. Looking back the way they came and figuring they should probably back track and return to the road, this path was seemingly far more hazardous than dealing with the occasional republic patrols, Phystte motioned to the Mandalorian that they were moving out. As she started forward, she snagged a quick glance over at him. Though Torian wasn't exactly smiling, she could see the happy glint in his eyes.

They reached the shoulder of the road after about twenty minutes of brisk hiking, no soldiers or menacing wildlife interrupting their trek back. Torian kept his guard up though, especially now that they were back near the road where the republic kept a closer watch over the territory. He studied Phystte marching up ahead of him for a few moments, thinking back to an earlier conversation they'd had on the ship. So, what do I win? The comment coupled with her sassy expectant smirk had shot unexpected tingles up his arms, still did even now when he remembered her response and that clear glimmer in her eyes. Phystte didn't seem to care that he was the son of a traitor or that by Mandalorian standards he wasn't exactly a catch. Granted he took every opportunity to prove his honor and skill, but he didn't even have his own full set of beskar, let alone any accolades from Mandalore that would prove him worthy to pursue the adopted leader's daughter.

Did Phystte even know that's what her adoption ceremony meant? Did she know she was clan Mandalore now? The woman seemed completely oblivious to her standing in Mandalorian society and even more so to their culture. Torian belatedly wondered if Commander Fett's ease at giving him leave from his command was only because he wished to join Mandalore's new daughter. What irony, he thought – the traitor's son teaching the Mandalore's daughter what it was to be Mandalorian. Jogo would be rolling in his boots if he knew the affection the Hunter showed him. And Corridan would have more than a few words to say to him about all this. Torian shook his head. He couldn't move forward with Phystte without confiding to Corridan about this first and make sure he wasn't doing something incredibly foolish. Not that he needed his friend's approval, but he felt he certainly could use the man's advice on the matter.

Besides, like he'd told her, he wasn't much of a prize yet. Torian knew he needed to work on that if he was going to feel worthy of her. She seemed willing enough to learn the ways, to learn the language even. Maybe he should offer to teach her Mando'a. It wasn't as if there were any other Mandalorians around to instruct her. Phystte seemed like a quick learner too, she'd probably pick it up in no time. As for the rest of Mandalorian culture, she'd already gotten a better grasp of the scoring game and to his surprise started training more with med-tech so that she could offer support instead of just artillery in a battle. Torian had just starting thinking about what he could do to make himself a better man for her when Phystte spoke up.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Me'ven?"

Phystte shook her head while pausing to let him catch up to her before going on. "I swear you've got this look on your face like you're thinking real hard about something, Torian. And that's saying something. What's on your mind?"

"Thinking about what I can do to impress you," he admitted truthfully, striding past her. She laughed lightly at that, jogging up to join him at his side and before he his ego was knocked down a few notches from her chuckle, the Hunter clarified.

"You don't need to do anything to impress me, Torian. I already like you as it is."

It was his turn to shake his head. "Shouldn't make it easy on me. Mando needs a challenge to find himself."

Her mouth opened in a silent aha and she smiled before replying with an, "I see." Phystte held out her arm in front of him and stopped, forcing him to halt in his tracks. Torian turned to look down at her, his brow slightly raised in question of what was happening. She gladly noted that it was getting easier for her to read his subdued expressions. "So what exactly are you planning to do to impress me?"

Torian shrugged, "Hadn't figured that out yet. You'll be the first to know though."

"I'd better be," Phystte retorted then after a few brief seconds her head tilted suspiciously. "Wait, is this some kind of Mandalorian thing I'm missing here? Are you required to do something special before you're allowed to take a shot at me?"

"Depends," the Mandalorian hinted at a sly smirk.

"On what?" Phystte questioned with he didn't explain further.

"On what I'm shooting for."