"Drop the rifle and walk away or I'll shoot!" the Human assassin yelled, the barrel of his blaster pressed to Boba Fett's temple. "I swear I'll do it!"

Thoroughly unimpressed, Fennec Shand stood across the audience chamber from them, rifle trained on the assassin. "Do it. He means nothing to me."

The mechanical innards of her torso hissed and cranked, and the assassin's eyes grew wide. "What… What are you?"

"Rotta didn't even tell you what you're up against?" Fennec said with a tsk. "Amateur."

Boba narrowed his eyes at his partner, unconcerned by the blaster held up to his head but confused by the clanking. He knew he'd done a good job creating her cybernetic torso, and it had never made that noise before.

The assassin didn't know that, though, and he was terrified. "S-s-stay back! I'll shoot!"

"You already said that," Fennec said flatly. "Maybe try a different tactic."

The would-be assassin panicked and turned his blaster on Fennec, squeezing off five or six wild shots. She, on the other hand, only shot once.

Boba shoved the assassin's smoking body off of him, dusting himself off and striding across the room towards Fennec.

"You were lying, when you said that," he said.

"Said what?"

"When you told him to shoot me. That I mean nothing to you."

Fennec furrowed her brows at Boba. "Are you serious?"

"Your stomach made that funny sound."

"...And?"

Boba Fett considered her for a long moment, a theory coalescing in his mind. Fennec stared back. She was one of the only people who could manage that.

"Let's get this place cleaned up," he said finally, gesturing to the body on the floor. "We can't have my palace looking a mess."

"We certainly can't."

Boba had to engineer an opportunity to test his theory with a game of sabacc. Fennec rarely gambled, so it took a few solid months of casual suggestions before he finally coaxed her into a game.

They played for small stakes. Boba knew the infighting and conflict that could come from serious gambling debts within a crew, and Fennec didn't seem particularly interested in the thrill of potentially losing her life's savings. The credits weren't the point, anyway.

"Five credits," Boba said, tossing his credits into the pot. He had a green three of circles and a red two of squares—a decent hand.

"I raise you ten credits," Fennec said, stone-faced, pushing her credits in.

Boba looked at her from over the top of his cards, eyes narrowed. "Have a good hand, do you?"

She shrugged, but said nothing. That wasn't going to work for his experiment.

"I've got plus one," he said, leaning forward across the table. "Can you do better?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He shook his head. "There's no way you've got better than a plus one. Convince me otherwise."

"I don't know what to tell you, Boba. I have a good hand."

The hissing rattle of metallic parts emanated from Fennec's stomach, and she froze. A slow smile crept across Boba's face as he stared down his opponent, a weakness spotted.

"I raise you fifty credits," Boba said, pulling the extra currency out of his pocket.

To her credit, Fennec's face betrayed nothing. Unfortunately for her, her body had already given her away. "I fold."

Boba smirked as he gathered the credits to himself. He'd won something much more valuable than credits this game. He'd won information.

"I can't resolve this if you won't tell me what's wrong," Boba said, trailing Fennec as she stormed through the lower levels of the old Hutt palace.

She'd been in a foul mood ever since their last excursion to Mandalore, and Boba couldn't figure why. It had been a simple mission—helping a sister-in-arms out with some Pyke Syndicate thugs. Everything had gone smoothly, but Fennec's silence had felt sullen and off these last few days.

"Nothing's wrong," she said, but her gut gurgled away the truth.

"Just tell me! You're obviously upset about something."

"No, I'm not."

"Your stomach says otherwise."

Fennec rounded on him, her impassive expression broken for once into a nasty snarl. "Look, if I wanted to tell you why I'm upset then I'd tell you."

Boba took a step back, caught off guard by her sudden anger. Part of the reason they worked so well together was the uncanny way they seemed to understand each other's moods and temperaments, but this was a version of Fennec he'd never seen before.

"Fine," he said, feeling strangely hurt. "Why don't you take off for a few days. Do whatever you need to sort yourself out."

"Fine," Fennec snapped, then she stormed from the room.

"I've brought the Rodian, as requested," the Mandalorian woman said, shoving the smivelling creature in question in front of Boba. "I want 10,000 credits for him."

"The bounty was for 5,000," Boba said, leaning back into his throne and looking her over. She was from the old class of Mandalorians—simple bounty hunters, a breed after Boba's own heart.

"The bounty was for 5,000, but then nobody caught him for six months. So I upped the price."

Boba brought a hand to his chin, considering. 10,00 was steep, but the Rodian in question had tried to sell him out to Rotta the Hutt. The twerpy little Hutt kept coming for Boba and wasn't likely to stop any time soon, so Boba needed to send a message about loyalty. And he had to admire the bounty hunter's nerve.

"Alright. Collect your 10,000 from my treasurer," he said, waving her in the direction of the bespectacled, nervous looking man Boba kept around to look after his finances.

She nodded and Boba signalled for his guards to take the Rodian away, rising to his feet and leaving the audience chamber without truly registering the screams of protest echoing down the halls. Fennec followed after him, ever in his shadow.

They made their way through the subterranean hallways of the old palace, but once they were well away from the crowds Fennec stopped. She huffed, and the barely-audible sound might as well have been deafening, coming from her.

"What is it, Fennec?" Boba asked, turning to her.

She pursed her lips. "You gave that woman much more than that bounty was worth. You're always soft on Mandalorians."

"No, I didn't."

Fennec crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "Come on. We asked for 5,000. Maybe you can give her more because he was harder to catch then we expected, but double?"

Boba felt a twinge of guilt at Fennec's frustration. She'd started as his guardian, bound to him by a life debt, but over the years they'd become something more like partners. And yet he hadn't considered talking over the bounty hunter's proposal with her first.

The guilt only irritated Boba more, activating his defense mechanisms. "You're acting like a jealous lover," he snapped.

"No I'm not," she said, her sharp features accentuated by the heavy shadows of the dark hallway.

Her stomach popped, a cranking, rattling sound hissing out, and Fennec froze. Boba blinked stupidly at her for a long moment, his brain taking longer than it should to process this new information.

"Are you... interested in me?" he asked, incredulous despite the evidence before him.

"No," Fennec said firmly, her arms crossing over her stomach. Unfortunately for her, her arms couldn't stop the hissing and rattling of her abdomen.

He stepped closer to her, feeling a strange sort of hope paired with uncomfortable nervousness. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," she said, louder now to cover the insistent burbling.

He took another step towards her, and she didn't back down. Slowly, with the patience of a man who'd survived years on his own in the desert, he inched closer. He brought one hand to her cheek, his thumb resting along the curve of her cheekbone. His forehead touched hers, his nose nudging the bridge of her nose. "Do you want me to kiss you right now?" he said, quietly, intently.

"No…" Her protest was barely audible over the rattling of her midsection.

"Fen… this is something you have to tell me with your words," Boba said, looking right into her dark eyes.

Her eyes were wide with something he'd never seen in her before. Fear, nerves, hesitancy—whatever it was he knew it was a privilege to bear witness to in a warrior such as Fennec Shand.

A decision was made in the set of her jaw, in the steel of her eyes. "Yes," she said firmly.

Boba closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers, his fingers sliding into her hair and her arms looping around his shoulders. She held on tightly and he could feel the gurgling of her stomach settle down to a contented peace. One of her hands moved up to his face, memorizing the lines of his scars and honoring each one. He let one arm fall down to her waist, marveling in the strength contained in a body so small.

She pulled away some time later, breathless and flushed. She prodded Boba's chest with a finger, her jab as sharp as a knife. "If you let anyone know I have such an obvious tell, you're dead."

He smiled at her, pulling her into his arms again. "Wouldn't dream of it."