I can't take you lot anywhere. By Kondoru
Standard Disclaimers
Suppertime in the Fortress, Daimyo Boba Fett and his loyal retinue were sat eating.
Boba Fett sat back and benignly surveyed the scene.
The Mods were bickering at a low level, as was their wont; grabbing titbits off of each other's plates, clattering forks and knocking the cruet over; their contribution was most of the noise of the meal.
Fennec Shand was not setting a good example to the younger set, she was sat with her feet up on the table, thoughtfully licking a half peeled fruit that was dripping juice everywhere.
Black Krissantan was picking his fangs with a sharp claw.
The Rancor Keeper was surreptously dropping bones through the bars of the floor grille.
His newest troops, a trivirmate of Gammoreans, were snout deep in their bowls, grunting for all the world like a trio of Puffer Pigs.
Pelli Motto was disassembling a small motor on the corner of the table, occasionally helped by the ever present pit droids.
Grogu sat at his high chair in his usual place of honour, next to his Daimyo. (Din was hiding in his curtained off corner, as usual). The smallest Jedi (When he was not being something else; Grogu was at the stage of trying out different careers, though he certainly still used the Force.) was industriously spooning up stew, with a genteel look on his face. Not a single drop was out of place. Previous to eating the Mandalorian had thoughtfully tied a napkin around his neck, but it seemingly was not needed.
He looked around himself again; Boba Fett decided to say nothing. `I can't take you lot anywhere, can I? ` He thought.
