After several hours of chatting with some of the locals and trying to figure out what my next step was, I felt like I was making headway. There seemed to be plenty of availability for work on this planet, and the community was willing to help me find a place where I could fit in. However, a group of large Quarren kept pointing towards where I was sitting, contemplating on approaching me. It had been a while and I was sure they would've come up to me by now if they wanted to, so I wasn't worried.

My headache was subsiding, though the aftermath of the previous attack was still thick in my muscles. I felt sore all over, and the chill from Maldo Kreis—I soon found out this was the name of the planet we'd taken a short holiday to—was still was difficult to shake. Ironically, I held an ice pack on my swollen shoulder and continued to drink tea as I made various notes in a booklet, writing down tips the bartender filled me in on, feeling as though there was a light, though dim, at the end of the tunnel.

It wasn't shocking that the Mandalorian felt the need to bound my wrists after seeing what I'd done to the Krykna. It was on par with how I expected the world to react. Fear twisted within communities when they saw what my species could do to the elements, our manipulation out of their control. I gripped my mug tightly, holding back the graphic images of fellow clanmates of mine—their abilities coming to light while holding off an earthquake that threatened to destroy part of the town—their families torn apart by secret New Republic agents unleashed to gather them. Few of us were able to flee. Only those who were captured knew exactly what happened once within the New Republic's custody, but rumors could be rather dramatic.

Deep within my own thoughts and chewing on some dried chicken feet, I felt a sudden presence coming towards me. Beneath his shadow I looked up to find one of the Quarren looming over the table I was sitting at. I straightened my back and stifled the anxiety that fluttered in my throat, my expression giving nothing away. He had a wicked smile on his face. As he was leaning forwards to say something vile, he paused, interrupted by a disturbance elsewhere in the room. The entire bar quieted, a rapid hush coming over them, the Quarren looking towards the front of the bar with a stupid look on his face. I followed his gaze and turned to see what was captivating folks' attention—and there he stood, the Mandalorian, stiffly in the doorway of the bar and searching for my face.

I let out a sharp sigh. When we made eye contact, I wasn't nearly as relieved as I thought I'd be to have the Quarren recover from his intimidation. When the Mandalorian reached my table, he stared into the alien's eyes, who scoffed and turned back to sit with his group.

"Do you owe them something?"

"If you asked them that, I'm sure they'd tell you I did," I responded flatly. He watched them for a second longer before looking back at me. I motioned for him to sit across the table, and he obliged, clipping the buckle off his rifle and leaning it against the bench. The moment he settled the bar continued as normal, chatting lightly and creating an ambience of noise around us, as though they needed the Mandalorian's calm and submissive presence as confirmation that they could resume.

"I could use your help," he said seriously. I stopped mid drink and swallowed my tea, trying not to choke.

"Excuse me?"

He didn't respond. He seemed to think his statement was as obvious as ever, and it didn't need to be repeated. I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"Erm," I stammered awkwardly. "With what, exactly?"

"I'm trying to get the kid somewhere safe. There are war lords from the Empire that want him."

I refrained from looking too startled. Did he just say Empire? I chewed the inside of my cheek and searched his side but noticed he didn't have the green child there. When I met his eyes within the visor of his helmet, he signaled towards the door.

"He's with the Frog Lady."

"I don't know. I don't do that very often," referring to my attack on the Krykna and ignoring his reference of the Empire. He nodded once.

"I'm not asking you to explain to me what that was."

"You don't even trust me fully," I said waving my wrist at him. "You practically tied me up when I was unconscious."

He sat still in his seat, not seeming bothered by this, but still curious as to how I managed to get the bind off my wrists. It was one of the most complex knots he knew of, and for someone to slip out of it as easily as that, he was interested how. He felt a tinge of annoyance at how much time this conversation was costing him.

"I'm not asking why you're on this planet. Or, what that was back with the Krykna. If someone were after you here, you wouldn't have sat in this small café as long as you have right on the front of the docks where you could be easily spotted," he noted. I began grinding my teeth. "I also see you're gathering information here, so you're new in town," he paused, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Your…abilities could be useful, and I am asking that you help me get the kid where he needs to go."

I eyed the Beskar armor he wore. Though the tint in his helmet made it impossible to see his eyes, I knew he was impatiently waiting for my response. Within my pocket I twisted a coin between my fingers and turned his proposition over in my head. There was so much unknown about this situation, and besides, I was nursing a reputation with Trask and didn't want to spoil it. I watched the bartender's weary expression as they tuned in to my conversation with the Mandalorian. I gave them a small nod to signal I had the situation under control, and they shook their head, their distaste for bounty hunters apparent.

The Mandalorian leaned back where he sat, knowing that my hesitation meant I would likely agree to his plan, even if I had to think critically about it first. Behind him, the group of Quarren's were gathered closely, waiting for him to leave so they could attempt to approach me again. The Mandalorian noticed my unease with this and stood, knowing I'd agree—or at least consider it—and walked out of the bar.