It took them a few hours to replace everything that had been disrupted, the work taking the edge off of the awkward silence between Boba and Patch. Boba would not look at her, and the guilt weighed heavy on her. Once finished, Boba slumped into a chair and rubbed his temples, trying to strategize their future. He squinted his eyes and tensed his lips as he thought.

Patch tiptoed around him in the tight shelter and made it to one of the sleeping quarters, having come up with a solution that seemed most beneficial for both of them. There was a rustling in the room for a minute; and then she exited with a pack, stuffed full. She walked around to the door to leave the shelter, her intentions evident.

"You're forgetting your helmet, again," Boba said without looking up, knowing she was leaving and not planning on stopping her.

Patch stalled, turned back to the table in front of Boba and with one hand picked up her helmet.

"They'll be coming back. You're going. That, I understand. We'll all have to get out," Boba said.

Patch looked at Boba, a pang of regret rising in her.

"I'm sorry I came down the canyon. I should'a stayed put," Patch said.

Boba took a mouthful from a bottle of Cheedoan whiskey. "Yeah," he replied, but that was all he said.

Patch turned to leave. However ,her curiosity halted her before she left, and this was the only time she could ask. "Can I ask you a question?" Patch asked.

Boba did not answer.

"Did you love my mother?" she asked.

He did not answer for a few seconds, then replied in a defeated tone, "Can it install a power core?"

"What?" Patch said, confusedly.

"Can it hide the Falcon? Can it keep those raiders from coming back? Can it erase this afternoon?"

"What are you talking about?" Patch asked.

"Love," Boba said flatly.

Patch did not reply.

"Then there is no use discussing it," Boba stated and took another swig of the whiskey.

This was not enough for Patch. "Then why did you take me in after she died if you didn't love her?" Her face looked at him hopefully, her eyebrows lifted up in expectation.

Boba smiled at the thought. "You're great at fixing stuff, Patch."

Her face fell. She readjusted the pack on her shoulder and said in anger, "My name's not Patch! And I'd like to see how long it takes for you to patch up the Falcon by yourself! Hope you finish it before the Keeper gets it. Then at least you can watch him fly it off!"

She whipped around and stormed out the door, slamming it as she left.

A moment later the loud engine of the starhopper hummed outside and then grew fainter and fainter as it hastened away.

"She is just like her mother," Boba said to himself.

PZ-85 opened the door and stepped into the shelter stiffly.

"Master, it seems Patch has flown off with the starhopper," he reported. "Did you send Patch away for a purpose?"

Boba took another sip from the bottle. "Shut-up, PZ."