Suggested Listening:
Your Mission - Lorne Balfe (from Mission: Impossible - Fallout) | ...the plan
Peace Negotiations - Laura Karpman (from The Marvels, which despite what the press is saying is a VERY fun watch and not at all a box office bomb?) | ...he's here
Wonder Woman's Wrath - Rupert Gregson-Williams | ...that face
Signori toileto Italiano - Daniel Pemberton | ...that could've gone better

The plan, I had to admit, was a good one. Mayfeld, for all his shortcomings, had made a decent case for us helping him. To be honest, the idea of those animals being stolen and dealt for underground fights did in fact stir up the same righteous anger in me that Mayfeld seemed to harbor — and he had promised Din and I a payment from the authorities if we helped him pull this off.

"Mando, you come in as a buyer," Mayfeld explained quickly. "This was only supposed to be a goods exchange between dealer and distributor. I was only supposed to get confirmation that this guy is without a doubt dealing Wendo eggs." He pointed at Din. "You stay mysterious, you act rich, you get the middlemen and the dealers to sit down to an actual negotiation."

"And then you get twice the information," I mused. "Not bad."

"How does that get us our bounty?" Rumbled Din.

"Once I get the info I need — any other animals they deal, any other client names, any competitor dealers — that's when this one comes in." He jerked a thumb at me and nodded.

"And what exactly is 'this one' doing?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"You play dumb, right?" He raised his eyebrows enthusiastically as he began to pick up steam. "You hang on Fane Reth, you be his bimbo for the night—"

"Watch it," said Din in a low voice.

"—His, uh — his lady… friend…" Mayfeld shot a nervous look over at Din to see if this phrasing was allowed. "… for the night. And when I give you the signal, you come out as an Agriculture Agent."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my eyes widening in alarm. "Why do I have to take your fall?"

"Because!" Mayfeld looked at me like it was obvious. "You say you're shutting the deal down and they're all under arrest, you pin Fane Reth as the mole who's been ratting on all of them to you, they turn against him, Mando and I take you both out to the alley to, uh… handle you, lets say… You take Reth, I go back in a hero, everybody wins."

Din and I stared at him in silence for a moment.

"You know, it's not bad," I said with an impressed shrug, turning to Din for final approval.

"I don't like it," he muttered. "You're the lightning rod, it's too dangerous."

I bit back a smile — I secretly felt a flutter of butterflies every time he was protective of me like this.

"I'll be fine," I soothed. "You guys are driving the ship, I'm just a red herring."

Mayfeld looked at him hopefully.

"Fine," grumbled Din eventually. He looked over at Mayfeld. "Give us a minute."

Mayfeld looked up impatiently and stepped away.

"Who's got a minute?" He muttered under his breath.

I looked up at Din, who took a step closer to me and leaned in ever so slightly.

"You sure you're okay with this?" He asked in a low voice. "I don't wanna throw you to the wolves—"

"It's going to be fine," I murmured. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I could tell that public displays of affection weren't going to be a big part of our group dynamic. "I may not love the guy, but after everything that we all went through together… I do trust him."

"Maybe, but I don't want him using you as a human shield."

"Din, you can't treat me like I'm made of glass." I felt my voice soften as I leaned in to whisper — I didn't want Mayfeld overhearing anything on this particular subject. "I know things are different… between us… but I'm still your partner, same as before."

"I'm not—" he began to argue, but caught himself. He sighed. "I know."

"Okay," I said, looking up at him with a half smile. "So lets go do what we do."

Din nodded, then looked over at Mayfeld.

"Okay," he called over to him. Mayfeld wheeled around and jogged back over to us.

"Give me the tranq," I said, holding out a hand. "I'll have a better shot at the element of surprise."

He handed it over and I slipped it into my jacket's inner utility pocket.

Din turned to start walking around to the front of the casino.

"Okay, buddy," said Mayfeld, clapping Din's shoulder bracingly. "You got this?"

Din stopped and turned to look back at Mayfeld, and I could imagine the withering look he was giving him.

"Okay, okay, you got it," said Mayfeld, removing his hand from Din's shoulder plate and holding it up appeasingly. "Just make sure you keep him talking long enough to get some names. Please."

Din nodded stoically and turned to me.

"See you in there."

His gaze seemed to linger on me for a moment before he leaned in to Mayfeld and spoke in a low growl.

"Anything happens to her, we blow the whole thing up. Understand?"

"Got it," said Mayfeld with a raised eyebrow. "Mrs. Mando's in safe hands, alright?"

Given Din's currently very serious demeanor, I fought hard not to laugh out loud at the nickname.

Mayfeld and I headed back inside through the alleyway backdoor. Before we cleared the entrance, he leaned in and lowered his voice.

"Remember," he hissed. "You know nothin' about nothin'."

"Double negative, but yeah, I got it," I muttered.

He looked at me with a sidelong glance.

"I'm right, aren't I? About the two of you…" He clumsily bumped the tips of his fingers together.

"Okay, never do that again," I said, my top lip curled in distaste.

"I'm just saying!" He threw his hands up. "I'm detecting a definite frisson!"

"Did…" I snickered in disbelief. "Did you just say 'frisson'?"

"Alright, already," he said with an eye roll. "Just, please, for the love of all that is good in this karking galaxy, do not let you two's whole thing — whatever it is — kriff this up."

I shot him a disparaging look before slapping on an expression of doe-eyed eagerness as we made our way back into the casino.

"I can't believe you fixed it so quickly—" I gushed loudly. "I wouldn't have even known where to start!"

"Ahh, well, you know," boomed Mayfeld, putting a hand between my shoulder-blades and steering me back into the main room. "Always happy to help a lady in distress — Fane Reth! Your girl here was asking about you!"

The group were still gathered around the bar. Fane Reth turned his wide triangular head at the sound of his name. He was sat on a stool pouring heaps of salt into what looked like yet another drink.

"Askin' 'bout me, eh?" He slapped his thigh as though to invite me to sit on his lap. "Come here, girlie, I'm an open book!"

I cringed inwardly, but scurried over and leaned into him.

"I'll take that drink now!"

I was just taking a cautious sip of some sludgy green concoction that looked like it tasted like grass — yep, that's fermented, alcoholic grass, I thought with a wince — when Din walked in, pushing the swinging doors open and instantly commanding the attention of the room. My pulse quickened as my eyes slid over his powerful figure.

Holy Hoth, I can't believe I get to go home with him later, I thought to myself before immediately scolding my brain to focus on the task at hand.

Din strode to the bar and placed his hands on the surface, waiting for the bartender.

Fane Reth let out a drunken guffaw, his hand tightening around my shoulder.

"Look at that," he boomed. "A metal man. What are you afraid of, stranger?"

Din's helmet tilted slightly in our direction, but he looked unbothered. The bartender came and Din ordered a drink, quietly dropping a handful of high-number credits onto the bar.

Fane Reth's leering grin faded as his wide eyes zeroed in on the pile. He stood clumsily off of the stool, jostling me out of his grip as he moved over to Din. I stumbled against the bar, working quickly to cover my annoyed face with a blankly pleasant expression.

"You, uh… what brings you here, stranger?" Fane Reth's voice was notably more sycophantic than it had been moments ago.

"I was hoping you'd come," said Mayfeld, emerging from the group again and coming to stand between us. He looked at Fane Reth and jerked his head toward Din. "He's a buyer."

"A buyer?" Fane Reth's face twisted angrily. "This is supposed to be a hand-off, not a sale, Briars."

"Shh," Mayfeld hissed. "The money's too good, Reth, he's not gonna want to pass up the opportunity to sell to this guy."

Fane Reth narrowed his eyes and studied Din warily. Din knew full well that his power was in his silence. He stood leaning against the bar, letting his suit and stoicism do the mysterious, borderline titillating work.

A small man slipped through the door behind the bar and made pointed eye contact with Mayfeld, who raised his eyes in response. He turned to Fane Reth, his face suddenly grave.

"He's here."

It didn't take much convincing for Fane Reth to bring me along. He slipped a hand around my waist and led the group through the door and down a narrow, dimly-lit set of concrete stairs until we were deposited in a completely different environment. We shuffled past an armed guard into an octagonal underground room that looked ten times more expensive than the shabby gaming room above. The walls were lined with brilliant blue flames encased in large, clear cylinders, giving the room a cool, flickering glow. At the center of the room was a large round table, where sat a cloaked figure with a sinister air that instantly shot a simmer of fear through my chest. He was flanked by henchmen who were in the process of gently lowering a massive rectangular container to the ground.

"Jothor Gest, as I live and breathe!" Fane Reth held his arms open wide, his booming. drunken voice incongruous with the hushed ominousness of our surroundings.

That simmer of fear flared into a flash in my chest. Jothor Gest, I thought anxiously. Why do I know that name?

"Fane Reth," came a raspy, rattling voice from under the hood. "Always eager to announce your presence."

He pointed a long, bony hand at the seat opposite him.

"Sit."

The entourage were well choreographed. Fane Reth sat, Mayfeld came to stand behind his right shoulder, and two other men took seats next to him. I hung back purposefully, but my doting escort looked around, smacking the seat of the chair next to him.

"C'mere, baby," laughed Fane Reth. "Come see how the big dogs play."

I'd like to show you how the big dogs play, I thought sardonically, picturing the rancor from the port — but I reluctantly joined him, sitting down delicately and trying to draw no attention to myself.

The shrouded figure lifted his head, revealing a cold, wizened face of a man who had seen decades of deals go bad.

I froze, the puzzle suddenly clicking together in my mind — I know him.

Or at least… I knew him. His name had been familiar, but his face was unmistakeable. He had been at every one of my father's birthday parties, he had come to the compound for illicit transactions — I never knew what was being dealt, but I knew it was more than just a few crates of spice.

I had never spoken to him — he wasn't one of the closer circle of colleagues that my father had made Thoss and I socialize with — but if I knew his face this well… it was just as possible that he knew mine.

I looked down at the table, willing myself to become smaller, more insignificant. He looked past me.

"Who is the Mandalorian?"

"I brought you a buyer, Jothor," slurred Fane Reth arrogantly. "I knew you wouldn't want to pass a direct sale up—" He leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper. "Very deep pockets."

Jothor's face curled into a sinister smile.

"Come join us," he said, indicating to a seat a few chairs away from me.

Din silently walked over and took the seat.

"How did you find yourself here?" Jothor examined Din with narrowed eyes.

I started a tally in my head — all the information we could gather for Mayfeld's operation. I wonder how many secrets were enough to signal my part in the plan.

"I come seeking a second opinion," said Din in a low voice. "I run an establishment in need of supplies, and the dealer I spoke to sounded like he was running a racket."

"Let me guess—" said Jothor with an amused tone. "Did this dealer do business out of Nal Hutta?"

Check.

"On the contrary," said Din. "He's from a dry climate."

A momentary pause as Jothor furrowed his brow and my heart dropped.

"Ahh," he said, releasing the tension in his forehead. "And who wants to do business in Mos Eisley, anyway?"

My eyes widened at the familiar location.

Check.

"They say you provide the best product," said Din. "And Fane Reth is the best contact."

Jothor's beady eyes flicked to Fane Reth, his expression withering.

"Do they?" He asked wryly. Then, he turned to his henchmen. "Fleece him."

My stomach turned over as I watched them wrench Din to his feet, patting him down and stripping him of the weapons they could find — I knew that they would never be able to render him unarmed, but they took his blasters and a few ancillary weapons off of his belt. Din grunted in annoyance but stayed calm.

"Standard protocol," said Jothor. "You understand."

He stood and swept over to the crate on the floor. Din shifted his weight as the henchmen stepped away from him.

"Wendo eggs?" Asked Din.

The whole room looked at him, taken aback. Jothor's eyebrows flew up, and a rattling laugh escaped him.

"Not much for subtlety, is he, Fane Reth?"

Fane Reth let out a bellowing laugh and clapped his big golden hand on my thigh. I sucked in a breath through my nostrils and flicked my gaze over to Din, whose hand clenched stiffly into a fist.

Come on, Djarin, I willed silently. If I can keep it together, you can.

"We don't feel the need to be so specific," hissed Jothor, stepping close to Din. "We feel there's a certain sort of crassness to naming names."

"I know what I need," said Din, squaring up to him. "I'm not wasting time playing dumb. I have credits to spend on quality product, and I'm not buying anything until I can take a look at it."

Jothor regarded him for a moment, then turned to his men.

"Open the crate."

They did so hurriedly, and I couldn't resist peering over to see a heat-packed assortment of large yellow eggs with mottled grey spots.

Check.

"Where are they sourced from?"

"Corellia, of course."

"Which forest? Ursa? Hand's Peak?"

"You know the planet well?"

"Very," said Din. "I've been there many times."

I wondered if that was true, and made a mental note to ask to hear the stories when this was over.

"This particular crop were sourced in the west rake of Hand's Peak," said Jothor.

Check.

"Come take a look," Fane Reth said to me, eager to show off.

"Oh, no, I don't need to—" I began to protest, but he had already pulled me up by the arm and pulled me over to the chest. I held my breath as we came close to Jothor and tried not to look at Din, in case he sensed my inner panic and went into protective mode.

"If you're as well traveled as you claim," mused Jothor, his attention still on Din. "You know how treacherous that forest can be. Such prized goods fetch a high price, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Cost isn't an obstacle," rumbled Din.

"Excellent!" Barked Fane Reth, wandering around Din and coming to a stop at his side. "So lets make this deal happen, huh? Of course, with a finder's fee for myself for connecting you two wheelers and dealers…"

He clapped Din hard on the back of his armor, causing him to wince in pain and shake his hand delicately.

"Not so fast," said Din. "I need a variety of assets for my establishment. What else can you offer me?"

Jothor's face turned cold.

"You're getting direct access to this sale as a stroke of luck, Mandalorian."

"Money makes luck in this city," said Din in a low voice. "Or so I've heard."

At this point, I could feel my temples beginning to sweat. I was holding my body rigid, my eyes flicking between Din and Mayfeld, hoping for any indication that we were done, that we'd gotten everything we needed.

"Yours isn't the only money in the galaxy," said Jothor with a mirthless laugh. "Trust must be established for these kinds of questions."

He turned away from Din.

"Close it up," he barked at the henchmen.

He made to stride back to the table, but his eye snagged as he looked at me for the first time. I felt the blood drain from my face. He paused, his eye examining my features slowly and studiously.

"Have we met?" He said finally, a sinister smile creeping across his face.

I swallowed, shaking my head and trying to appear unfazed.

"You look…" he wandered closer to me. "I can't help but feel… but you were younger—"

"I'll take them," interjected Din, trying to keep his voice even — but I could hear the subtle undercurrent of alarm. "I apologize for being too forward. These goods are plenty."

I looked over at him and he pulled out a purse of credits. His free hand was clenched tightly at his side.

Jothor's long, wizened finger touched my chin as he turned my face back to him. I winced, unable to conceal my distaste. Realization began to dawn in his eyes.

"This face…"

The room began to spin. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before I even knew what I was doing, I had yanked the tranq gun out from my jacket pocket and punched a sedative into his neck.

The entire room stared at me in shock. Slowly and silently, he slumped to the floor, his cloaks splaying across the blue-lit linoleum.

I looked around at the stricken faces, most of them acknowledging my existence for the first time. Wow, I thought to myself. You really can just do anything when you let yourself be underestimated.

The eyebrows in the room began to furrow as everyone's brains caught up with what they'd just seen. Riding high on adrenaline, I threw my hands up.

"I'm an Agriculture Agent!" I shouted before I had a chance to think of anything more clever to do.

Chaos erupted. Angry voices accosted Fane Reth for bringing an undercover into their midst, while Jothor's baffled henchmen scrabbled to pull out their weapons and began to close in on me. I pulled out my blaster and held both weapons out, flaying them toward the encroaching enemy.

"Everybody shut up!" I shouted, clinging to the tough-as-nails agent persona I'd hastily decided was my way out. I shot Din a look, begging him silently to not spring into action and blow everything up. "Thanks to Fane Reth's role as an informant, I have enough information to take you all in! Don't come any closer, I will…" I glanced from the blaster to the tranq gun, nervously. "…put you all to sleep, I swear!"

Mayfeld, detecting my panic, took Fane Reth by the scruff.

"You set us up?" He accused through gritted teeth. "You brought her in here?"

"I didn't—" Fane Reth was in full panic mode, looking around wildly. "I didn't do anything! He's the wildcard!"

He jabbed a finger toward Din, who didn't respond. The entire room devolved into shouting confusion. I wheeled around, unsure of where to defend myself from first — when, suddenly, a jet of hot light crashed into the chair next to me, reducing it to smoking rubble. My gaze snapped over to one of Jothor's men, blaster extended, whose face looked like he'd shocked himself by pulling the trigger. I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

"Shit."

The blasts began flying. I dropped to the ground and rolled under the metallic table, frantically looking around. I knew my safety down there was only momentary, so in a snap decision, I trained my blaster toward one of the cylinders lining the walls and pulled the trigger. Luckily, it didn't instantly fill the room with poisonous gas and kill us all, which I quickly realized could've easily happened. Instead, the flame inside it swelled, hungrily licking at the oxygen in the air. The men panicked, scattering. I seized the moment and rolled back out, running for the door.

"Everybody out!" Someone yelled, and we all moved en masse up the stairs, spilling into the casino. I couldn't see Din or Mayfeld — thick blue smoke was billowing up from below, adding an extra layer of chaos to the maelstrom.

A hand grasped my jacket sleeve and yanked me forward. I found myself face to face with Fane Reth — and it wasn't a pleasant face.

"You've got some explaining to do," he growled. I fought against his grip and we scuffled, coughing against the smoke. He scrabbled to keep a hold on me as I dragged our fight toward the door, desperate for fresh air.

"They're getting away!" I heard one of the henchmen shout, and blasts began flying in our direction again. Fane Reth screamed and released me. I made a run for the door, a move which Fane Reth quickly echoed.

I was just about to make it out when I felt something lurch against my abdomen, yanking me back until I crashed into something unseen. Whatever my back had made contact with gave a mighty grunt. I looked down to realize that encircling my waist and pinning down my arms was a shimmering metallic rope, holding me flush against what felt and sounded like the back of Fane Reth.

He struggled loudly, cursing and spitting, but to no avail. Din walked into my view, reeling in the extra rope of his lariat. The room quieted. I glared at him with a dry, annoyed expression, which he met with an amused single-shoulder shrug.

"Un… believable…" I muttered, trying hard not to laugh.

"I'll handle them," announced Din in a gravelly voice, walking slowly toward me. He came to a stop, looming over me, his large gloved hand coming to rest tightly on the rope. I felt my mouth twist to conceal a wry, sardonic smile.

He walked us out into the alley — I say "walked"; it was really like corralling a bucking nerf at a rodeo.

"You lousy, filthy liars!" Fane Reth was roaring. "When I get out of here I swear…"

Din sighed wearily and held out his hand to me. I raised an eyebrow, as if to say you know full well you've got my hands pinned, get it yourself you big bully.

He got the message with an amused head tilt and reached down to pull the tranq gun out of my holster.

"I'm gonna beat you both so bad," spat Fane Reth, "you won't know what hit—"

With a satisfying thunk, I heard the tranq gun stop his speech. The relief of silence was brief, however, as his dead weight dragged me down to the ground.

"Dank Farrik," I grumbled as Din bent down, suddenly concerned.

"Are you okay?"

He loosened the slack for a moment and I slipped out of the lariat. I straightened and put my hands on my hips, raising my eyebrow as I glared up at him.

"I suppose that was fun for you?"

"Only some of it," he said wryly, helping to brush the dirt off of my arm. "Sorry about that last part."

"Where did you have that stashed that they didn't get it off of you?" I nodded at the lariat in his hand.

"Mind your business," he grumbled, with a playful edge. I smiled despite myself.

"—And clean this up before the authorities get here and take us all down!" Mayfeld emerged through the back door, shouting back toward the crowd of shellshocked criminals. He then turned his attention to us and dropped his bravado. "I'm not gonna lie to ya, kids, that could've gone better."

"You got your information, we got our bounty," said Din. He then cast a sidelong glance at me. "… And no one got hurt."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, remembering our flirtatious deal.

"I'll have the bosses transfer you credits for your help," said Mayfeld, holding out a hand. Din shook it. "Where can I reach you?"

"Send it care of Cara Dune on Navarro," I answered, shaking his hand myself. "You remember her, right?"

"Oh yeah," said Mayfeld raising his eyebrows, and I detected a definite heightening of nerves. "The dropper. How's— what's she— how's she doin'?"

I bit back a laugh and felt a warm glow of affection for him, despite all of his annoying qualities.

"Don't think you're her type, Mayfeld," I said, half-joking, half-genuinely sympathetic.

"What are you— I don't—" His face grew red and he shook his head, crossing his arms. "Get off planet, the both of you. And take this with you!"

He gently kicked Fane Reth's slumped form, only to trigger a loud roar from the heap. We snapped our attention to the bounty, who began to write belligerently, his complaints too slurred to decipher.

"What the—" I furrowed my brow.

"Get him out of here!" Mayfeld hissed, alarmed. "Jeez, the whole motley crew are gonna hear this!"

"I've never tranqued an Arcona," said Din. "They must metabolize it differently."

"Jet him over," I said, tapping Din's jetpack. "I'll meet you back at the ship."

"You sure you're okay—"

"Yes, I'm fine," I gave his hand a quick squeeze. "I'll see you there."

Din scooped up the inebriated Arcona and with a curt nod at Mayfeld, blasted into the air.

"See you around, Migs," I said with a wave as I began to head out of the alley. "I'll tell Cara you say 'hi'!"

"I swear to—" he huffed, scuffing his heel on the pavement. "Don't make me wake that Jothor up!"

I chuckled and hurried out into the street.

Back on the Arrowhead, Din was in the cargo hold wrangling the bounty and I was figuring out the quickest route to Ossus from Nevarro. I couldn't take it anymore — it was time to go and see Grogu. I missed him so much it ached, and I could only imagine how Din was feeling. When he had shyly shown me the little shirt of beskar chainmail that he'd had made, I knew that despite his grumpy protests, a visit was long overdue.

Finally, Din appeared in the cockpit.

"Is he behaving?"

"He is now," said Din. "I put him in carbonite."

I chuckled, raising my eyebrows.

"You rule with an iron fist, Din Djarin."

I stood and leaned against the dash, looking at him. After a moment, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in an embrace. When he pulled away, his hands held my waist tightly — possessively. To my surprise, when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and vulnerable.

"I like that you call me Din now."

I smiled up at him, caught off guard by his soft sincerity.

"That's your name," I said, skimming my hands along his vambraces and settling them in the nook at his elbows where his armor separated.

"I know," he said. "But you used to call me 'Mando'."

"Well," I said with a shy shrug. "I was nervous. It didn't feel appropriate, 'Din' is so… intimate…"

I heard a low chuckle rumble through his vocoder, causing me to blush.

"I like saying your name, too," I confessed quietly. He gently touched his helmet to my forehead and I closed my eyes, relishing the closeness of our bodies. My heart began to hammer as I felt his large, rough hands slip my jacket off of my shoulders. He swept them up my bare arms, bringing them to rest on my sternum, his thumbs stroking my collarbone. His hands on my skin made my head swim deliciously. I heard a soft sound escape his vocoder — a hum of relief, like touching me was imperative to his peace. I knew he could feel my heart beating and I swallowed, nervously — even after the last few days, being close to him like this still made my nervous system spin into a fury.

"Should I go get the blindfold?" I breathed as his hands wandered down, grazing my breasts and sending chills of pleasure down my spine.

To my surprise, he looked up at me and chuckled, dropping his hands to my hips.

"What?" I asked, a little embarrassed. He took in a breath and looked away for a moment, before turning his gaze back down to my face

"It just… feels hard to decide," he rumbled, his voice hoarse, "between kissing you and looking into your eyes. I only get one or the other."

I felt a familiar ache in my chest, a deep yearning for him. There had been a thread of pain in his voice, too, as we both reckoned with the obstacle of his creed.

"Hey," I murmured, half-smiling up at him. "There's plenty of time for both."

Time. Something it had never felt like we'd had before. Our life was constant running — from something, toward something, away from each other, to each other's rescue — and it had never felt like time was a resource at our fingertips. But perhaps, for two people like us, it took more courage to just stand still with each other, counting on the probability of tomorrow.

"Huh," he chuckled, thoughtfully. "I guess there is."

He slid his hands under my thighs and hitched me up onto the dash. I gasped, giggling with surprise and affection as he pressed against me, slipping between my knees and grasping the fabric at my hips hungrily.

Well then, I thought with a wry smile. Armor on… That'll be interesting.