You want a prompt? How about "Fett blatantly denies Shysa is his favorite child even though she's got him wrapped around her tiny finger"?


He could see the nervous tension in her hands. Her fingers flicked restlessly, her gloves preventing her from picking at the skin around her nails.

Shysa was suited up, her helmet hanging from her belt. Her eyes were on the doorway of the cantina. Outside there were voices, happy shouts of a greeting. A meeting of the clan leaders of Mandalore.

Or so they thought.

She turned back to the bartender. "I'll have one more."

"No," Fett said. "You need to stay sharp."

The bartender heeded him. After all, he was the Mand'alor.

For now.

"You think anyone will challenge?" Shysa asked him. Her hands betrayed her, but her voice was steady.

"They might." Fett had already calculated the odds. He and Leia had been over every possible foe and ally. "What do you want me to say?"

His daughter grinned at him. "Tell me I'm your favorite."

Fett pushed away from the bar. "Put your helmet on. Time to go."

The door opened. He walked out into the bright sunlight with Shysa, and the yard fell silent. They were told to expect an announcement.

"I'm resigning," Fett said. "Effective immediately."

Then he stepped back, and watched his favorite child step forward.

"My name is Shysa Fett, and I claim the title of Mand'alor."