Tyran nodded his head. "Deal, don't need you getting upset and moving my home off its foundation or something like that."
He went to his personal armory where he kept all the tools of his trade. There were a few sets of Mandalorian armor that had belonged to his parents stored there, along with all the weapons they had acquired over there long careers as mercenaries. If it stabbed, shot, injured, maimed or inflicted any type of fear or pain then Tyran had at least one or two of them in this armory. He started to clean his armor, it was something he always liked to do when he had some idle time to burn, in a way it was like his meditation. It was chipped and dented but he never bothered to fix those things, it showed what he'd been through in his own career.