He shouldn't have been surprised by how quickly the once-lawless (…and once empty…) town had cropped up new residents. The people puttered about the main strip quietly, going about their business. They were all start-ups, really. Running and seeking a new life away from wherever it was they'd come. A handful of them had kicked the bar in the guts, restarting the business with a renewed vigour.
He chose not to think about how he'd almost perished in this very building barely one year ago.
"Mando!"
Greef Karga's voice carried through the busy cantina, his arms wide. For a brief moment, the crowd silenced. His armour drew cautious stares from patrons waiting for drinks. The bar tenders had paused, casting sharp glances at each other. The guild agent ignored all of them as he gestured for the Mandalorian to take a seat.
"It's good to see you, my friend!" Greef clapped a hand onto his shoulder, before dropping into the adjacent spot. "How's our small green friend?"
The Mandalorian shot him a dark look, casting a glance around for anyone potentially listening. For Greef to speak so casually in such a loud place – it was either a tactic, or trust in those maintaining order around him. Mando wasn't sure which thought he preferred.
"Doing fine," he finally muttered.
"I'm glad to hear it! I was surprised to see you return so soon."
"We're… running low on supplies," he admitted. The Razor's Crest was running a little low on fuel, and the longer they searched for the child's homeland, the further out they had to travel. Mando could live without creature comforts – he had been doing so for most of his life. The child, however, could at least use a new blanket. "Could use some coin."
"I'm sure you could!" Greef chuckled. "It's just your luck, then. I've some easy money ready and waiting."
Some relief cast across Mando's shoulders. The bounty hunter's elbows pressed against the surface of the table. He took in the genuine joy of Greef. It was… strange, to say the least, to be wanted. Especially after so long without hearing from he nor Cara. "What's the job?"
Greef pulled a tracking fob out from his jacket, placing it onto the table. "Senator of the New Republic has a bee in their bonnet over some rebel troops. A few people that ran with Han Solo putting their fingers where they didn't belong."
The Mandalorian gave a resigned sigh. His helmet tilted downwards, a disdain clenching his fingers. "I'm not interested."
"Mando, it's an easy gig. The senator just wants them to cough up – how harmless can a New Republican even be against some ex-rebels?"
Not very, given they spent most of their time bumbling around like idiots, but the bounty hunter chose not to voice this opinion. "They should take it up with the Rebellion."
"They are the Rebellion."
…not really.
"It's the code of the guild to ask no questions," Greef continued through the Mandalorian's silence. "But I'm led to believe the bounty will simply be held to a court of law. But they need to bring him in, first."
"Him? You said 'rebel troops'. Plural."
"I did. But the fobs are individual." Greef motioned for him to take the tracking fob once more.
The bounty hunter regarded him once more. His fingers toyed with the tracking fob before finally taking it.
Kes Dameron. Sargent in the Alliance during the Galactic War. Part of a strike team lead by Han Solo. Some of his compatriots had already been brought in – Dameron was one of the last. It was odd that, up until now, no other bounty hunter had been successful in bringing him in. The Rebellion might have been desperate back in the day, but they weren't homicidal. They weren't impossible to bring in.
This is not something the bounty hunter had wanted to get involved with.
His attention flickered back up to Greef. "Yavin Four?"
"That's right," the guild agent nodded. "An easy job, for easy money."
"I'm holding you to that."
"I'd expect no less."
