Suggested Listening:
Bogata - John Powell (from Mr. and Mrs. Smith) | ...arriving at the estate
One Last Dance - Kris Bowers (from Bridgerton) | ...an elegant affair
Breaking In (Searching the Factory - Daniel Pemberton (from The Man From U.N.C.L.E.) | ...you know what i know
The Unfinished Kiss - Daniel Pemberton (from The Man From U.N.C.L.E.) | ...where we left off
Anna and Albert - Joel McNeely (from A Million Ways to Die in the West) | ...din and kyra (Listen guys, this is their theme, I'mma keep coming back to it!)
ALTERNATE last track: Meg's Garden - Alan Menken (from Hercules)

We parked the speeder in the woods near the estate, and Din handed me the little earpiece again.

"I got the comms working," he explained, tapping the side of his helmet. "It's a little grainy, but we'll be able to communicate."

I slipped it into my ear.

"Can you hear me?" He asked, a scratchier version of his low rumble murmuring into my ear. I nodded.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

I turned to walk toward the estate, but he caught my elbow. I turned back to him in surprise. He hesitated, then I heard him swallow hard in my ear.

"Just… be careful. Okay?" His voice was gentle and a little vulnerable.

I looked up at him, our faces close. After a moment, I nodded.

"Promise."

Sneaking into the party was shockingly easy. My muscle memory kicked in as soon as I approached, and I carried my frame with a regal confidence that matched the easy charisma of the wealthy crowd around me. I aligned myself with a group that looked fairly similar to me, taking up the rear and laughing along with them as they wandered into the party, only a few of them flashing their invitations. They were too self-involved — or maybe too intoxicated — to notice me. The guards didn't even pay me a second look. My first stop was the bar, my second to the ballroom to make conversation with strangers. My third, eventually, was out to the veranda to catch my breath.

The moons cast a creamy pink glow on the tropical gardens that sprawled below the palace. Standing next to the balustrade and breathing in the fragrant, sultry air, with the sweet music spilling out from the ballroom, I felt a light giddiness. I had grown up envious of girls from my school whose families had coming out parties and elegant affairs with this kind of ease and merriness — my family's parties were well-dressed, certainly, but the events themselves were of a very different sort.

"Any sign?" Din's voice murmured in my ear.

"Nothing yet," I said softly, camouflaging my speech with a sip of my drink.

I made conversation with various stylish people around me. I found that my bartending had taught me well how to get necessary information out of drunk people who think they're the main character in the story of the night. I learned that Gyddes Vank was considered a playboy amongst this lot — not respectable, but a good time at a party. I was on the stairs, peering around for a boyish tycoon doing something ridiculous like downing wine straight from the cask or lifting a girl up on his shoulders. The trouble was, every man here seemed to fit the bill.

I was on the stairs, peering down at the outdoor crowd when I was approached by a young man in a dapper gold robe, swaying.

"Don't tell me, it's on the tip of my tongue," he said in a languorous voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Your name," He continued, leering down at me. "We met at the last Tanga shindig, didn't we?"

"Are you making a friend?" Asked Din in my ear with dry amusement. I cleared my throat.

"Sorry, you've got the wrong girl," I said firmly, and kept looking around. Being "recognized", even by an obviously drunk little rich boy who was confusing me with any other vaguely girlish looking being, still made me anxious.

"No, I know it was you," he said, moving closer to me until I was backed up against the railing of the stairs. "You've got that tattoo…"

For a moment my heart dropped into my stomach — but then I realized that my tattoo had come after my escape and there was no way anyone who actually recognized me would know about it.

"You're mistaken," I said, more firmly. "And please back away from me."

"Kyra?" Asked Din in my ear, the teasing tone completely dropped. "Are you okay?"

"Oh no," Opined the lout, skimming a hand around my waist. "She's not feeling shy all of a sudden, is she?"

"Get your hands off me," I muttered quietly, not wanting to make a scene.

"What's he doing?" Din's voice came harshly through my earpiece.

"All I know," continued the man, grabbing me tightly, "is that you weren't playing this little game at the last party."

"Get off." I tried to peel his hand off of my hips.

"Come on, lets go find a room upstairs."

"I swear to the Force, you're going to regret this," I warned, preparing to knee him where it counted, though my reflexes were slow — like my body was in a fog of disbelief at what was happening to it.

I yanked my head away as he leaned in forcibly to kiss me.

Just then, a gloved hand appeared, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around and before I knew it he had been thrust over the balustrade into the bushes, his indignant cry answered by the crunch of pricker branches. I looked back up to see Din standing there, fists clenched.

Before I had a chance to remark, he took my arm and pulled me up the stairs into the ballroom.

"What the hell are you doing here," I hissed at him. "You're sticking out like a sore thumb!"

Sure enough, everyone around us had turned to look at the singular Mandalorian dragging a woman by the elbow through the crowd. He stopped and turned to me, leaning in to speak quietly.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine, I could've handled it!"

"That's not the point!" He sounded furious, but I knew him well enough to know his anger wasn't toward me. "He's lucky that's all he got."

"How did you even get up here?"

"Don't worry about it." He looked around. "Any sign of Vank?"

"You know what I know," I shrugged.

Suddenly, we were approached by a tall, thin older man in black and white attire.

"Excuse me," he said stuffily. "But would you kindly follow me to the door? We need to confirm your invitation."

"This is my guest," I said in my best assertive posh voice. "I was assured a plus-one on my invitation, no one said I had to declare whom it would be ahead of time."

"Madam," the man said, glancing around discreetly. "We don't wish to cause a scene—"

"No, we don't," I said, linking arms with Din. "And I'm sure you would never want to make a guest feel ostracized for being from a different culture with different attire and customs, would you?"

He looked mortified.

"Absolutely not, Madam," he mumbled, straightening up and smoothing his suit. "Please stay here, I'll go and check the list myself."

Thank goodness for politeness and social norms, or we'd be screwed, I thought to myself as he strode away.

"We gotta do this quick," I hissed to Din. "I'd bet we have maybe five minutes tops before he comes back to talk to us about the fact that I do not have a plus one, nor an invitation. Come on."

I led him by the arm through the crowd — I could feel he was tense and uncomfortable in a setting like this. Funny, I thought. Just a few weeks ago and I never would've walked into a crowd this big. Somehow it didn't feel so scary now.

We approached a rowdy group of partygoers and I began laughing along with them as they exchanged jokes that went right over my head.

"Great Galaxy," said a woman with cerulean skin and a high pile of red curls on her head encircled by a bronze laurel crown. "Are you a Mandalorian?"

The group's attention turned to us as she skirted through the crowd, coming to a stop right in front of Din. He didn't answer.

"Amazing," she breathed, looking at him a bit like how someone looks at a Kowakian Monkey Lizard in a zoo. "I've never met one before! Are you the type that doesn't take your helmet off?"

He didn't answer again and I felt his arm get even more tense.

Two other ladies flanked the curly haired woman, peering up at Din with eager fascination.

"Is it true there are only five of you left in the whole galaxy?" Asked one.

"Maris, that's a rude question," said the other one, turning back to Din with interest. "Is it true you're not allowed on certain planets?"

…Is it true, Kyra, that you got arrested on Niamos for putting three women in a head lock at once?

Din was silent and stony. My face flushed hot with anger on his behalf.

The first woman put her hand on his chest plate, flirtatiously.

My cheeks burned even hotter.

"Tell me," she said, leaning forward. "Do Mandalorians dance?"

I was about to leap to his defense and excuse us, but he spoke in a surprisingly polite voice.

"Thank you, madam, but I'm here with my wife."

He nodded to me. I flashed him an alarmed look, but immediately replaced it with a tight smile and a nod.

"Oh," said the woman, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"That's quite alright," I said, placing a possessive hand on his arm and laying the graciousness on a little thick.

"I didn't know Mandalorians could marry regular people!" Gasped one of the other girls.

I would've derided that as being an inappropriate exclamation, but to be honest — excepting the wildly rude use of the word "regular" — I'd wondered the same thing. I glanced over at him to see if he'd answer.

"We make it work," he said, placing a gloved hand over mine on his arm.

I felt a thrill in my chest, followed immediately by a brain scold — It's pretend, it's pretend, get a grip, it's pretend.

"Ladies, perhaps you could help us," I said, working hard to bite back a grin. "We're looking for an old friend whom we heard would be here, Gyddes Vank?"

They all lit up.

"Oh, you know Gyddes!" Exclaimed the blue woman. "Oh, no wonder, he's always got such odd friends!"

I fought an eye roll.

"He's around here somewhere, he's…" She craned her neck to look around through the crowd, then locked in on someone. "There he is!"

I followed her pointed finger through the throng, finally landing on…

Oh no.

The groping man from earlier was standing with a friend, pulling branches and leaves out of his hair, looking absolutely furious. His eyes landed on us, and his face turned red.

"Dank Farrik," Din and I both whispered in unison, and immediately turned to go. He led me by the hand, threading through the crowd and slipping into the bustling hallway.

"Walk, don't run," Din instructed in a low voice. "We can lose him in this crowd."

"YOU!"

We spun around to see Gyddes Vank, pointing right at us. The whole hall full of people snapped their gaze on us like lasers.

"Stop them now," Gyddes ordered in a loud, wounded voice. "They're violent trespassers!"

"Never mind," whispered Din, wearily. "Running's good."

We broke into a sprint as mass hysteria erupted. Unsuspecting guests threw themselves out of the way as we barreled down the corridor. I spied an intersection and yanked Din by the arm down a narrower walkway that led to an open circular deck with stone stairs descending down to the lawn. We swept down them, the voices of the angry partygoers hot on our tail. When we got down into the greenery, he grabbed me by the shoulder.

"Get back to the speeder and be ready to drive," he commanded, pointing behind me toward where he'd stashed it. "I'll get Vank."

I nodded and dashed into the trees. I knew that stealthiness was one of his main strong-suits — Vank wouldn't see him coming.

The lawn was flooding with staff and amped-up gentlemen who were excited to have something actually active to do. As I looked over my shoulder, I caught sight of Gyddes Vank himself, staggering across the lawn with some of his cronies, throwing an absolute tantrum. I knew Din had run in the opposite direction, so I decided to amend the plan.

As his friends started running toward the trees, I slipped through the dark to the edge of the forest and hissed an earnest "psst!" in Vank's direction. He spun around looking for the source of the sound, before finally spotting me. He opened his mouth to yell, but I threw my hands up.

"No, no, no!" I whispered, and beckoned him over. Hesitantly, he stumbled over to me.

"Your boyfriend threw me in a hedge," he whined, and I could smell the rum stink on his breath from feet away.

"He's not my boyfriend!" I opened my eyes wide and doe-like and tried to look delicate. "I was so upset when he interrupted us, I was really looking forward to getting to know you better!"

He wavered, unsure of whether or not to believe me.

"Since there's all this craziness going on," I looked around and lowered my eyelids, coquettishly. "You wouldn't want to pick up where we left off, would you?"

He looked dubious, but then a drunken smirk crawled across his visage.

"Lead the way, baby."

Wow. Drunk men are stupid.

I reached out and grabbed his tie with a wry smile and pulled him into the trees. As we walked into the thick of the forest, I slipped my hand through the slit in my skirt and discreetly unhooked the tranquilizer gun. I turned around and leaned my back against a tree, looking at him enticingly.

"Come here, gorgeous!" He stumbled toward me, arms outstretched, and right before he got to me, I whipped up the tranquilizer gun and gave him a shot of sedative, right in the neck.

He had the good manners to look utterly shocked before passing out and going totally limp. I caught him with a grunt.

"Dank Farrik, you're heavy," I groaned, looking around for what the hell I was going to do next.

With laborious, miserable effort, I slowly dragged him to the small clearing where the speeder was waiting. I had already spent what felt like ten minutes trying to hoist the dead-weight dandy into the cab of the vehicle when Din appeared.

"As usual, you stuck to the plan with great loyalty," he whispered with dry sarcasm. "What the hell is this?"

"Vank," I grunted, trying again to lift him. "Not my fault I got to him first!"

Din bent down and lifted Vank's top-half with ease.

"How did you get him alone?"

"I invited him into the woods to pick up where we left off," I shrugged.

He stared at me.

"And that worked?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't mean—" He stammered, frustrated. "Of course it worked, you're— you know what I mean, get his feet please?"

I obliged and together we heaved him into the cab of the speeder before jumping in ourselves and pealing off through the trees away from the estate.

"So much for discreet," I called to Din over the wind.

"They're getting their bounty," he called back with a hint of amusement. "Discreet was a request, not a guarantee."

Back on the Arrowhead, we let Gyddes Vank slump on the floor behind us as we sat at the viewport and steered the ship up into the stars.

"Well," I said as we dragged into the hyperspace lane, "that was certainly different."

"Yeah…" Din looked back at the pile of wealthy truant on the floor of the cockpit. "I think I'll stick to assassins and warlords."

I chuckled and leaned back in my chair.

"My feet are killing me."

"I can't imagine why," he said drily, and we looked down at my feet.

I put them up on the dash, and my boots — some elaborate, swooping heeled things dripping in fake crystals that went up to my knees — caught the light. Din and I stared at them.

"… And the great thing is, I can wear them again at work!"

He laughed, and I smiled at the sound.

"What's that?" He said, nodding to the top of the left one.

"Oh!" My heart leapt as I reached down. "I forgot I swiped this!"

I pulled out a small bottle of White Zeltros Rum that I had stashed in the cuff.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"I grabbed it from the bar when I went up to get my drink!" I twisted off the top. "I figured we might need it to celebrate when we nailed the mission and disappeared Gyddes Vank without anyone noticing."

"Well…" Din glanced back at Vank again. "We did stick the landing."

I laughed and held out the bottle to him.

"First taste of victory?"

He shook his head.

"You take the first one," he said, a smile in his voice.

I took a sip, the burning liquid feeling satisfying in my throat. I handed the bottle over to Din, fully expecting him to decline again, but he took it and turned away from me. I saw his helmet tilt up ever so slightly as he took a sip. I tried to look casual as he turned back to me and handed it back.

"What else you got in those things?" He said wryly, pointing back at my boots. I chuckled.

"I haven't worn this kind of stuff in so long."

"Could've fooled me."

I chuckled.

"What about you? Do Mandalorians get all dressed up for stuff?"

He looked at me as though trying to gauge if I was serious, then looked down at his armor.

"I am dressed up."

I laughed, peering over at him.

"This is pure Beskar," he said, affronted. "You might not know, but this is a very nice suit of armor."

"Oh, I can tell!" I grinned and looked back out the viewport.

"And you? Did you used to go to parties like that?" He asked, looking over at me curiously. "In your past life, I mean."

I looked out at the swirl of hyperspace, memories floating to the surface.

"Sort of. My father's birthday party was always a very elegant affair… a little darker in tone, though…" I felt my face cloud over as I remembered.

"What do you mean?" Din's tone was gentle, cautious.

"Oh, you know…" I began to dismiss, but when I looked over at him and saw how intently he was watching me, my joking smile fell from my face. I cleared my throat and looked down. "He would do this thing where, in the middle of the party, he would bring out whoever he had imprisoned under our compound, and the crowd would vote on which one would get killed that night."

He was silent for a moment, then shook his head slowly.

"Dank Farrik," he cursed in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged, a familiar old guilt seeping into my chest.

"I didn't do anything to stop it." I stared down at my hands, playing with a seam on my dress, a flush of shame taking up residence in my cheeks.

"Hey." Din's firm tone made me look up at him. "You were a kid."

"Yeah…" I muttered, having already had this back-and-forth with myself many times. "Still."

"I think…" said Din slowly and thoughtfully. "I think we both have pasts that aren't connected to who we are now."

I stared at him, a flash of his face appearing in my memory as I felt the weight of the connection he was speaking of.

"I won't hold it against you if you don't," I said softly.

He looked over at me and a moment passed between us. I felt my eyes begin to brim, causing me to shake my head and look away.

"So, anyway…" I said in a cheery voice, not wanting to bring the mood down.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." I looked over at him.

I was so tempted to lean into the flirtatious, bantering undercurrent that had begun to emerge in our conversation, to let the silent moment of deep connection expand and envelop us. That increasingly frequent ache rattled my chest — that yearning feeling that had begun to crop up every time I took a moment to really look at him. A thrill went down my spine as the tactile memory of his fingers brushing the back of my neck flashed in my mind.

I cleared my throat and looked away, taking another swig. Din cleared his throat, too, and leaned forward, pressing a couple buttons on the dash.

I looked down at the bottle, thinking. I had feelings for Din that were deeper than I was willing to admit… but here in front of me was something already that most people spent their lives hoping for. This — this comfortable, easy friendliness, this partnership with an actual deep connection — was enough.

"So," I said, looking over at him with a teasing eyebrow-raise. "Do Mandalorians dance?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat again and putting his own boots up on the dash.

"This one doesn't."

"That sounds right."

"But," he said with interest. "There is a dance on Mandalore… it's called the Jurkadir—"

I listened to him explain, and we passed the bottle back and forth a few more times. Eventually, we both fell asleep in our chairs, mirror images of each other with our feet up and our arms crossed, in our co-pilot's chairs on our ship — genuinely comfortable, both of us, for the first time in a long time.