Abril: I don't know what to think about this chapter anymore, it used to be one of my favorites, now I've looked at it so many times I don't even know if it's good. I'm in pain.

All that aside, all of my thanks to Aethir who was very kind and offered to be my beta for the chapters that are left. And also thanks to my ever-faithful friend Shadow-ying for helping smooth out the (redacted) scene. Ya'll have my love.

Enjoy.

Obi-wan follows Jango around. Not in a glaringly obvious way, but in a subtle way. It's how, more often than not, if the Mando is in a room, the odds of the boy being there as well are quite high. Red never feels too far behind his steps and their only times apart are when Jango goes out either on a bounty or to buy provisions. And of course, when the teen needs some space because Jango's emotions are getting, 'too intense.

So he thinks Obi-wan follows him around, he's like a little birdling that way. That's how Jango sees it, and he thinks, if it weren't for the boy's aversion to going outside where other people are, he'd be following him there as well.

The kid had been getting better on that front though. The last time they docked down to restock, Red had stuck to Jango's side all the way to the food market. He was as tightly strung as a string instrument about to snap, and he was so jittery that Jango had to go back before finishing his business to leave him in the safety of The Fury. The boy, of course, hadn't told him how uncomfortable he'd been, watching him had been enough to tell. Obi-wan had actually come down by choice though. That was a clear victory if Jango ever saw one.

·~·~·~·

Jango feels right where he should be as he talks bounty business with the dainty Togruta woman. He's been aching for a sense of normalcy for a while and it seems he's finally getting back to his old speed. It feels good. Right.

As he ends the call with his newest client, Jango takes off his helmet- always a good thing to have on for his reputation. He leans back content.

"Don't take the job," Obi-wan says in his soft voice. The teen stands by the entrance to the cockpit, body language unsure but eyes determined.

"And why, pray tell, would I ever do that?" Jango asks, a little amused.

They've had ideological headbutts before, but the man would've thought Red would not have qualms about this specific job. If the boy has been standing within hearing distance enough to advise him against it, Jango would think putting a stop to this kind of lowlife would've been an endeavor even his Jetiise fellows would approve of.

Murderer, kidnapper, traffics beings for profit.

"It doesn't… it just doesn't feel right." He says vaguely and Jango has to chuckle.

"I don't think that's enough of an excuse, Red." He grabs his datapad and stands, ready to start making preparations for his new bounty.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Jango," Obi-wan's voice is quiet but his eyes make up for that by following the man with intensely.

Jango stops on his way out of the common room and turns to Obi-wan. He goes back to the boy and smiles comfortingly. His little field mouse is worried for him. It's… He won't lie, it's endearing.

"Relax, Obi'ika. I've done this a thousand times. I am the best bounty hunter in this galaxy," he says with cocky confidence. The redhead's worry though is still plain on his freckled face to see, so Jango squeezes the teen's arm for reassurance. "I can promise you, this woman is not going to get the best out of this Fett. It'll just be another job in the bag before you know it."

Obi-wan doesn't look reassured at all, but he says nothing more on the matter.

·~·~·~·

A crime lord is the best way to describe the Twi'lek that he is after. One of the ruthless, village-terrorizing kind no less. The city mayor had warned him against her cunning and intelligence. Although Jango will not underestimate her- he hasn't gotten this far by being stupid like that- he is confident he can get the job done in a short amount of time. He is after all the best in the field, as he'd told the kid; that had not been only to calm his nerves down. Is it really cockiness if it's true?

He leaves Obi-wan on the ship like he always does, though this time he's done so with a heavy heart. The teen has been so anxious about Jango's job that the man had almost been tempted to postpone the bounty. A ridiculous thought really; the boy is probably just going through one of his moods. He'll deal with it once he's back, like he always does. Well… like he always tries at least.

He realized not too long ago that he's beginning to think about these things with a note of pride. That, up until very recently, Jango has managed to get through to Obi-Wan when the teen was at his worst. After Caveerpel though, he's had to reframe his self appointed immunity to failure and confront the fact that it does give him pride. It gives him pride that Obi-wan responds to him and that he sometimes needs Jango to fight his demons. The fact that Jango is able to come through with whatever the teen needs in the moment makes him glad. He's not sure that it should though.

He's glad that Obi-wan needs him, he's happy that he's effective, but Obi-wan shouldn't even need him like this in the first place. The boy has too many hurts inside him. It's not really something to be proud of. Uncomfortable with the train thought, he stops thinking about it.

For now, he has a Twi'lek to find.

·~·~·~·

Obi-wan paces outside The Fury, anxious for Jango's return. It has only been a few hours, perhaps 5 or 6 since the man left but the teen cannot help himself.

Despite the fact that he's been training every day to get his connection to the force back to some semblance of order, his control is still not great. Their stay at Caveerpel had helped him with the pain and some minimal shielding, but it had hardly been even a ripple in the grand scale of things. It doesn't… it doesn't feel like he's making any real progress, and that scares him a little. It's been so hard to grasp these small victories. It makes his insides churn with anxiety. Shouldn't he be seeing a difference by now? Some sign that his connection to the force hasn't been screwed with forever? He shudders at the thought, putting his arms around his middle, he keeps pacing. He'd rather not think what a Jedi who can't connect with the Force was. 'Not a Jedi at all,' whispers his treacherous mind.

With his instincts hard to rely on, but very, very present, Obi-wan frets. The feeling of wrongness and tension in the Force is prickling over his skin like fire ants, like an itch he can't scratch or do anything about.

He knows it will be long before Jango returns. It could be by the end of the day, or it could be several days. He doesn't know however and pacing for his return won't help. The Force buzzes around him insistently, for a moment he considers looking for the collar again-

No. He needs to do something with himself right now besides worrying uselessly. He walks back into the ship, frustrated and restless. He should… he should meditate. Or sleep. Or exercise the energy away. He scoffs at himself. Not that he would last very much at any type of exercise. Jango had tried to goad him into a spar some days ago but 2 minutes in had Obi-wan already losing his balance and getting blurry vision.

He grabs a pastel pink fruit from the small cooler box they have in the kitchenette, it's so small it could almost be mistaken for a toolbox. He eats anxiously until he can't take it anymore and goes to throw himself over the couch to rest away his nerves.

Through the prickling and aching of his skin, and the buzzing in his head, Obi-wan falls into a restless sleep. His dreams are disjointed and he's grateful for it. Too many times do memories assault his resting hours, or his mind constructs things that make his heart ache just the same. The next day goes by much the same as the one before. Obi-wan tries to keep himself busy but by the time the sun starts going down he has to force himself to take another nap or just go to sleep until tomorrow. He tries and fails again to push away a discomfort he can't keep at bay. He slumbers for a while, tired from being so high straight all day.

His senses ring then, strong like a bell.

He props himself up on the couch, groggy like he slept too much or too little. The Force sings and he listens; someone is approaching The Fury. He takes in a sharp breath.

It is not Jango.

Danger, the Force screams.

The ginger shakes off the leftovers of sleep, his eyes wide and alert. He jumps from the couch but the sound of the ship's ramp opening makes his heart miss a beat. Whomever it is, they've gotten in. 'Force I hope it's not Jango's bounty.' He thinks as he looks around the common room for something to defend himself with.

'Jango's weapon stash!' His mind supplies, remembering the hidden nook in the sleeping quarters that the Mandalorian opens on occasion. He rushes out of the common room, the double doors parting for him, and quickly reaches the bedroom's opening panel, desperately tapping in the entry code. At that exact moment, the next set of doors to the cargo bay open. Three armed strangers stare at him, he stares back, all of them trapped in an awkward moment of silence.

The moment breaks as Obi-wan slams enter and one of the intruders shouts. "Get him!"

The boy flies into the room the second the door slides open, but he feels the world tilt off its axis as he's yanked back by the shirt.

"Who the kriff are you?" One of them barks, an Iktotchi who's pointing a blaster at him.

"Boss didn't tell us the Mando had a runt with him." A Weequay frowns.

Obi-wan wants to say something, defend himself, anything at all, but his words are trapped away in his throat again. Fear hides them like someone's got their fingers around his neck.

"Maybe he bought himself a whore boy," snickers the human man.

Obi-wan's voice clamps up even more; he wants to be sick at the thought. The Weequay drags him across the ground and throws him onto the cargo hold floor. Some instinct buried deep inside him and unused for long commands his body to act.

With the motion of the throw, even though his back slams painfully against the ground, he rolls into a stand and turns. The ginger springs straight into the Iktotchi- the most threatening looking sentient of the group- and doesn't give any of them a second to react. Even though Obi-wan's slight, the immediate surprise is enough for the boy to slam the male down and use the confusion to wrench the blaster away from him.

He's not thinking, he's only action and instinct and action and instinct.

He cracks the butt of the heavy duty blaster against the Iktotchi's temple and unstradles the sentient just in time to dodge an electro-staff being swung at his head by the human man. He prepares to shoot, but his heart stutters at the idea of using it, like it always does when he holds a blaster. The hesitation is a mistake. He feels the roots of his hair being pulled out as a tuft of his locks is grabbed and he's yanked backwards. Obi-wan screams in pain.

The Mandalorian is lifting him up by the hair.

"Stop, please!" Obi-wan begs as he sobs.

The redhead pulls himself out of the memory, the second of distraction has the two remaining intruders pointing their weapons at him while the Iktotchi sits up, dizzy from the blow.

The Weequay lifts him by the neck and slams him against the wall. He lets a punch fall against the teen's face and the world blurs around the edges of Obi-wan's vision.

"The little Mandalorian wants to play games with the big boys, huh? Is that it?" He squeezes his fingers tighter, making it hard for Obi-wan to breathe.

It doesn't matter anyway, the teen couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. He can feel it, if he were to try, nothing would come out from his lips. The mercenary holding him up scoffs in distaste, perhaps at the lack of answer, or at the unexpected change of events. They obviously hadn't thought they would find anyone on the supposedly empty ship.

"Should we tell the boss?" Asks the human.

Obi-wan's winded from the small confrontation, his limbs trembling from exertion. His kicking is weak at best and the most his hands can do on the arm holding him up is give him better support. Barely. This feels too familiar, he hates it, he wishes he could be Zygerrian so he could scratch bloody the hand into letting him go.

"What for?" Asks the Iktotchi in displeasure, standing up and massaging his head "Let's just kill him and take the ship, s'not like the pest was part of the plan."

"We should probably call her anyway, don't want to get into trouble if he's important or something. Maybe the boss'll want us to take him back." Suggests the human.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

He cannot be taken again, he can't, he can't.

Obi-wan trembles; it's not from tiredness, though. He can feel the panic setting into him like cold water, gripping him like he's being held hostage. He cannot bear to become nothing again, to lose himself in the blur of tortured days of hunger, and pain, and exhaustion, and a sadness so intense he could feel himself drowning in it. He can't wait again for something that will never happen while he is tied down like an animal. To be nothing more than a chip for some sick excuse of a game for whomever his next captor will be. Even the thought of being captured again is unbearable.

He would… he would rather die than be submitted to that again.

The Weequay glares at him; a pesky inconvenience under his boot, disgusting if nothing else.

The Force in him vibrates to the tune of his unbalanced emotions.

"Let's tie him up then, better not bother the boss while she's busy with the Mandalorian." Weequay decides as the de-facto leader.

"Sounded like she was having her fun in there," chuckles the human. "Strung up the bastard like an animal for the slaughter she did."

No.

Obi-wan's eyes widened. The Force peaks inside him along his fear and anxiety. He takes advantage of this, scrunches up his face and aims outwards as from within him explodes a wave of invisible energy, pushing all the intruders back. The Weequay holding him is thrown so hard into the opposite wall that he immediately crumbles unconscious to the floor.

"Jedi!" Snarls the Iktotchi, who swiftly recovers before the rest, lifting his blaster in a flash and shooting at the teen. Obi-wan rolls away behind the human coming up at him, his electro-staff is raised to strike, making one of the Iktotchi's blasts get him in the hip.

"Ah!" The man hollers in pain. "Watch it, you karking bastard!" The human wastes no time to turn though and swings at the ginger while clutching at his side.

The teen dodges, bending backward. When he balances back, he extends his arm to call forth the weapon in the man's hand. Obi-wan's control of the Force wavers, making his tenuous mental grip on the electro-staff slip from his fingers.

The boy gasps in pain as a blaster bolt hits his shoulder from behind, his knees hit the ground.

"Get him!" Shouts the Iktotchi.

The next thing the ginger knows is that he's screaming in agony. The blunt end of the human's staff is pressing down onto the back of his neck as currents of excruciating electricity run through his body.

Obi-wan flops on the ground and accepts surrender as the end of Qui-gon's wooden staff is placed on his chest. He's winded but the sparring session had been exhilarating.

"Solah," he says breathlessly.

"Why?" Questions his master curiously.

The ginger rises his head a little, looking at the older man in confusion.

"Cause… I lost?" It's not really a question, he knows he did.

"Did you now?" The long-haired man asks without mockery. "People always think they've won when they have their weapon on you."

"I always think people win when their weapons are on me," Obi-wan retorts incredulously, gesturing at the staff still keeping him down.

"People might think the fight is over, and you as well," Qui-gon taps the wood gently on the underside of the kid's chin. "But something people fail to recognize is that they've given you an advantage."

The boy looks up confusedly. Qui-gon kneels beside him and takes his hand.

"Be it blasters or a hand or a staff, or anything so long as it's not a saber," Qui-gon chuckles, "the people attacking you have given you something they only think they had." He looks intently at Obi-wan and places the boy's hand on the wooden staff. "Leverage of their weapon."

The redhead pulls at the last dregs of energy inside him and in one move twists his body and gets a hold of the weapon, it burns his hands but the human is caught off guard as he gets pulled down with the turn of Obi-wan's body.

The teen dodges the next set of blasts from the Iktotchi and cracks the human's head with his own staff. Without thinking he jumps at the other intruder, careful of the hot blaster bolts, and places himself close to the Iktotchi, grabbing at his weapon. The male doesn't let go this time though, and punches the Jedi in the gut, unable to shoot with the teen manhandling his blaster.

Obi-wan loses all breath but he doesn't stop and does what the human should've done when he had the redhead at his mercy but was too distracted instead by the prospect of causing him pain. With his other hand he activates the electro-staff directly against the temple of the Iktotchi.

The goon flops weightless to the floor as Obi-wan gasps for air, curling up with his forehead on the ground. The Force rings around him in a warning; he moves away but he's not fast enough. The human kicks him in the stomach, rage twisting and contorting his features like he's a Sith spawn.

Obi-wan sobs, he can't do anything more, he's spent and weak and the Force-

Another kick is delivered to the same spot. The teen cries out in pain.

"You're a real pain in the shebs filth," mumbles his attacker.

"I can't Master. I can't anymore." There's a tear sliding down his round cheek as he heaves for breath. They have been practicing katas for half of the day, Qui-gon has barely let him rest. He's spent. "Please let me stop. I can't-"

The Master attacks him again, his face emotionless. Obi-wan raises his training saber to block weekly. Another parry, and another, and another. The young boy lunges a stab forward and the man dodges and grabs the boy's hand, immobilizing him.

"Seems to me that you can just fine." Obi-wan looks up, Qui-gon is smiling gently at him. It warms his chest in a different way than the heat of exertion does. The boy smiles back shakily.

"Just a while more my young apprentice, then you can rest." The boy's face falls disheartened.

"I can't do it," Obi-wan whispers.

"I believe that you can do anything you set your mind to," Qui-gon brushes back the sweaty reddish hair with love, and steps back. "Just a little bit longer, Obi-wan."

With the next kick that comes his way, Obi-wan tightens his grip on the electro-staff and latches onto the booted foot connecting with his stomach. It takes what little breath he didn't know he still had away. Still, he raises his arm holding the weapon as far as it goes and jams it at the underside of the man's face. He perseveres with a grimace until the human drops to the ground, but he doesn't leave the man time to recover. Obi-wan crawls like a wounded animal next to the human and jams the staff in his forehead.

The mercenary is unconscious, his body twitching with leftover electricity. The redhead chokes meager breaths in and out hard, his face is tear streaked and pained. He… he can't rest; he needs to tie them up he… The teen sobs in exhausted frustration. He wants to give up, he wants to let go, he just wants whatever darkness awaits him to engulf his mind once and for all.

He curses into his palms as they cover his face.

Slowly, painfully slow, he picks himself up, his body shaking with exertion. He needs to look for something to tie them up with.

·~·~·~·

Jango is bloody. He's tired, and pissed, and hungry. He needs like 3 sonics and he needs to nap. Kriff the fucking Twi'lek woman. The Mandalorian grumbles curses under his breath, he's walking slowly with a prominent limp and the painful reminder of the past days.

Jango almost… he almost didn't make it. There was a moment back there at the woman's hideout where he'd been filled with regret, because surely, he was not going to make it back to Obi-wan. He was going to leave the kid all on his own. He sighs, trying to massage some of the pain from his left forearm away.

He'll have to tell Red about the whole thing, how the boy was right about his feeling, how bad the job had gotten. Oh, Ka'ar, Obi-wan had been so right.

If Jango stops to think about it too much he won't end up anywhere nice. It's… frightening. To think about what Obi-wan can do. What the Force lets him do. See the future. Because that's what this was, Obi-wan, in one way or another, had known that the job would not go well, enough that he had warned Jango against it.

It still takes him by surprise sometimes. He gets too comfortable with the idea of having a Jetii on his ship, he forgets what it actually means. It's then the fear returns to him.

Jetiise. The motionless and mystical conglomerate of races. Beings of unknown magic and power. Witches that get inside your head and play at being puppeteers. Oracles and harbingers of the future. It reminds him of lessons hard earned. You may tame a wild beast or think it cute in its youthfulness, but a beast will always be a beast. In time, all beasts turn on you with their claws out.

Jango is suddenly stilled by his own thoughts. After a short moment, the disgust that rises within him is so intense he feels like he's going to be sick. Is this really what he thinks about Red? He's cute now, but he won't always be? Not if Jango can help it. If he can keep Obi-wan far away from the Jetiise it shall never be so. But even then, even if he keeps the teen away from those monsters, Obi-wan's words reverberate inside his skull like an echoing drum. A conversation that almost seems a very distant memory, even though it's not.

"I don't need to know anything about them-" Jango had said, cutting himself off before he could say something stupid.

"No," Obi-wan answered, knowing where his thoughts lay. "I guess you wouldn't need to. You just need to know how to kill them, right?" His blue gray eyes stared intelligently at Jango. The words were true, that's what he thinks.

"Kill us. Us." Obi-wan left, the reminder of who he really was, like salt over Jango's wounds.

These, these are all thoughts he would rather not linger on, so the Mandalorian pushes them away from his mind, though the discomfort remains.

After a while more of walking, he gets angry. So what if Obi-wan's a witch? So what if he's one of them and weird at times and othernatural? So what? Jango cares for him so much. In spite of his Jetiiseness, hell, maybe even with the whole mess that having the Force and being a Jetii entails.

He finds a measure of peace then, very small, for his dark thoughts about Obi-wan and his people have not left him completely. Just tonight he barely escaped a gruesome end, and just as he was pulling himself up from the ground, he'd thought, 'I've faced worse odds than this. And I've got a kid to get back to now. I can't be getting myself captured and killed when there are more important things waiting for me.'

Jango chuckles at himself and sighs again, calming down and pulling away from unwanted thoughts. He's very tempted to just get into his bed without showering; he smells disgusting though, and he probably looks just as bad.

It was very satisfying putting a blast blot into the woman's temple. He'll downplay his pleasure when he tells the kid though, that is something Red definitely won't like. He smiles fondly at the thought, despite his restless thinking on his way back, he's eager to get back home and to Obi-wan.

When he reaches The Fury, the ship is wide open. It's the middle of the night. Jango's heart sinks.

He runs in, raising his stolen blaster because most of his weapons had been lost when captured. Jango expects to find a mess, the bloody body of the kid, dead and discarded somewhere, but The Fury is barely damaged. There are a few blaster blots on the walls and ceiling, but nothing else.

"Red?" His voice trembles.

The teen is curled on the floor on his side, he looks paler than he's ever seen him before. His face is bruised and his hair mattered. But his chest is moving. Jango sighs in relief and moves his concentration towards the threat.

They don't look like much, all tied up securely from what he can see, and roughed up a bit too. Two of them are unconscious, but the third, a male Weequay, looks at him glaringly; there's an undercurrent of fear hiding in his eyes. Jango kneels in front of the mercenary and grabs his jaw in a painful grip.

"You see him?" He turns the other's face to the unconscious boy. "He's family."

Under his hand Jango feels a tremor run through the man. Good.

"You're going to regret ever laying hands on him," he whispers menacingly in his ear.

Jango's eyes catch on some threads on the floor…

They're… they're not threads. It's hair. Soft, golden orange hair, not anywhere near where it should be.

He puts pressure on the jaw he's holding without looking at the Weequay, who begins gasping in contained pain. Something gives a little under his fingers and the man screams.

Obi-wan startles awake and Jango lets go of the scum to go to the kid.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay now, I'm here," he shushes the gasping teen, placing a warm hand on his shoulder with care. Obi-wan seems to be fighting to get out of the heaviness of unconsciousness quite hard, so Jango reassures him. "It's okay now. Don't worry, you can rest."

"Qui-gon?" The kid asks weakly, there's reverence there, and hope and love. "You came for me."

Jango doesn't have one single idea who this Qui-gon is, but he feels no jealousy in his heart, it is unimportant as of now. He can take an educated guess as to who the teen thinks he is though.

"Yeah, I came," he answers softly. "Go back to sleep, I'll take care of everything."

Obi-wan lets go of his efforts, trusting that all will be well. There's the faint imprint of a smile in the corner of his lips before he succumbs again to exhaustion.

Jango looks back at the tied intruders, the Weequay looking like he's holding in moans of pain. The Mandalorian glares.

He takes them all out to the dry landscape outside and drops them, first two and then a third one. The one with the cracked jaw gives a pained yowl. The kid must've really done a number on them for those unconscious do not rouse. He closes the ramp of The Fury, Obi-wan shouldn't have to listen to these poor excuses of sentient beings being executed.

He takes out his blaster and prepares to shoot. Jango hesitates…

Obi-wan went through the trouble of tying the kriffers up; it's obvious the kid did not intend for their end to be death. They both long understood that they are very different people from one another. People with very different beliefs. And he… These karking scumbags deserve death and probably more, but that kid would not want that. Once Red came to his senses he would ask what happened and Jango knew with an overpowering certainty that Obi-wan would not complain about his actions. He knew what the teen would do though, Obi-wan would hide in that place inside himself when he resigned himself to the fact that he was powerless and there was nothing he could ever do to change things. The Mandalorian hated that look on the teen's eyes, it was always there when they first came to be together. It had slowly been chipping away though. So what can Jango do?

His brain battles between his gut instinct to end the mercenaries and his softening heart which wants to save Obi-wan a little grief.

"Hey man, you don't have to do this," the Weequay says, mistaking his hesitance for something it is not.

Jango shoves the front of the blaster into his mouth to shut him up. The filth's eyes are glued to the weapon as he shakes, and chokes in his terror.

After a few seconds of silence battling with his own thoughts, Jango decides. He'll let them live. It makes him instantly angry, but there's nothing more to do. He takes the blaster out harshly, the material rapping against the other's teeth. The man gasps, desperate for air that does not reek of his death.

Just about to pull the ramp down and leave the kriffers to their luck, Jango stops once more, thoughtful. Just because he's not going to kill them doesn't mean he can't cause them a great deal of pain, it's only fair after all. He turns slowly to face the group.

Jango smiles.

The Weequay shivers.

"I hope messing the kid up was worth it." He says and lifts his blaster up, shooting both knees off the mercenary. Hollers of pain rise up in the air, agonized and torturous.

Jango shoots the others knees as well, which of course finally wakes them up. A symphony of screams, moans, and cries join the arid, natural landscape.

'Yes,' the Mandalorian thinks. 'This was a good decision.' Without further ado, he gets back into the ship, quick to close the ramp so Obi-wan won't be woken by the screaming.

·~·~·~·

The ginger is shivering a little on the ground when Jango gets back to him, he brushes a few locks of his hair away and the boy flinches, even in sleep. The Mandalorian lowers his hand to the shoulder as the kid rouses slightly.

"What's… what's happening?" He asks, disoriented. "There's so- so much pain in the Force."

Ah, kriff. Jango should've thought of that.

"Don't worry kid, it'll go away soon. Come on, let me help you up and we'll be out of this hellhole." He helps the kid stand and they walk to the common room, Jango shouldering all of the ginger's weight. He sets him down gently on the couch. "I'll be right back," he tells Obi-wan quietly and goes to the cockpit to get the hell out of there. The faster they are out of this dust ball the better.

Mando'a:

Shebs: Ass

Ka'ar: Stars

Other things:

Solah: Call of surrender (yielding) in a spar.

Abril: Heeeey everyone, we're nearing the end now? How are we all feeling? Place your bets and tell me how you think this story's going to end! XD