Private Through the Hangars

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar reached out and placed a hand lightly on Vael's shoulder, voice calm but carrying the weight of experience.
"I don't like the Sith," he said quietly, "never have. Their occupation before the rise of the Mandalorian Empire… it left scars. I saw it firsthand, and it hurt, especially during my time in self-exile. But I've learned to forgive them. Not because what they did was right… but because carrying that weight only drags down the soul."

He let the words settle for a moment, then gestured toward a section of the deck beneath the passageway.
"Now, if you're up for a bit of hands-on work, there's a spot below deck you might want to check out. A few wires, some fuses, nothing catastrophic, but the panels are tucked under the floorboards. Enough space to move, but last time I went in there without my armor, I got a nice little concussion from smacking my head on a pipe. Cramped, yeah, but manageable."

Rynar gave a faint, dry laugh.
"Just thought I'd give you the heads-up before you dive in. Makes the Vigo feel… cozy, but in a way that keeps her running right."

Deanez Vael Saren

 

[Deanez]

Dean had watched the exchange quietly, one hand still resting on Cupcake's scruff as the nexu happily worked through her treat. When Vael spoke, she shifted her attention to him, her expression composed and open, the faint edge of tension from earlier easing out of her posture.

She straightened slightly, brushing a bit of fur from her sleeve.

"Actually," Dean said calmly, her voice steady and thoughtful, "there are a few things we could use another set of eyes on."

She glanced briefly toward Rynar, a small, familiar look passing between them, then back to Vael.

"The Vigo runs well," she continued, "but she is old in places where it matters. We keep her flying because we know her systems inside and out. That also means we are very good at compensating for problems instead of always fixing them properly."

There was no self-criticism in her tone. Just honesty.

She gestured lightly down the corridor.

"The auxiliary power couplings near the aft junction have been temperamental," Dean explained. "Nothing dangerous. Yet. But they fluctuate under heavy load, especially when we are running shields, engines, and scanners at the same time."

Her brow lifted slightly.

"I would prefer to correct that before it becomes a real problem."

She folded her arms loosely, thoughtful.

"And the sensor calibration could use refinement," she added. "Rynar has improved the range. I optimized the processing speed. But we have not had time to fully harmonize the two."

A faint, almost wry smile touched her lips.

"We tend to fix things quickly when we are in the field," she admitted. "Not always elegantly."

Her gaze softened a little as she looked back at Vael.

"So if you are willing," Dean said quietly, "having someone who enjoys careful, methodical work would be… appreciated."

Cupcake padded over and sat at Dean's side, tail flicking once, as if endorsing the offer.

"And," Dean added, her tone lightening just slightly, "if you manage to improve something without triggering three other repairs in the process, Rynar will probably consider you a personal hero."

She glanced at him briefly, the corner of her mouth lifting.

"I might too."

Rynar Solde Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Vael was visibly excited to be given so many things to work on, almost uncharacteristically so for the normally stoic Way-following Mandalorians. Not only was this an opportunity to pay back his newfound friends for their aid and hospitality, it was allowing him very intimate access to a starship he had never laid his hands on before. Under his helmet, he was beaming.

"As I said," he repeated, "Wherever you need me. All I ask for is some time to grab my tools from my ship." Without waiting for an answer, he went off. He came back minutes later, a large toolbox in tow. Now completely focused on the tasks at hand and functionally mute in his single-minded movement, he turned his attention to the first problem listed: those "temperamental" auxiliary power couplings.

He watched them for a moment, listening to their hum and watching as the electricity arced intermittently. He could see why they would react to such a heavy draw. Internally, a few pieces had become misaligned - likely just the wear of travel. That was an easy fix, and one they had probably done more than once. The more substantial culprit was the wiring connecting the pylons of the couplings both to each other and to the ship overall. While they did not show any major signs of their age, these cables were still a few cycles obsolete. It was likely that they simply could not keep up with the power fluctuations. Luckily, he had a large bundle of miscellaneous wires in his toolkit. It took some searching, but he was able to find more up-to-date hardware. It was not bleeding edge by any means, but it should hold the couplings together much better than the older ones. After a solid hour of maintenance, Saren pulled himself up from the power junction, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips.

"That's one problem that should be taken care of," he said, "The wiring you were using with that coupling, while still capable, was meant for lower draw and older engines. I took the liberty of replacing them with something that should be able to handle your higher output. If you could show me to your sensor array, I'd be more than happy to take a look at that as well."

Deanez Rynar Solde

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar had been leaning against a crate, arms folded, watching Vael disappear into the ship's guts with that quiet, hyper-focused energy tech-types always got.

He glanced sideways toward Dean.
Low voice. Half a grin.
"So," he murmured, "how long d'you think it'll take before he gets frustrated with all our… creative solutions and punches something?"

It was meant as a joke.
Rynar expected sparks. Swearing. Maybe a request for spare parts duct-taped together with hope.
Instead, Vael's voice carried back through the bay.

"That should take care of the first issue."
Rynar blinked.
He straightened.
Vael kept going, talking about outdated wiring, higher output tolerances, replacements.

Rynar's jaw slowly dropped.
"…Wait."
He pushed off the crate.
"You didn't just patch it."

Vael explained calmly, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Rynar stared.
"You updated it?"
His hand lifted, pointing vaguely toward the couplings, disbelief bleeding straight through his voice.


"You... you made it better?"
Cupcake chose that exact moment to chirp from above, the tone so smug it might as well have been laughing.
Rynar groaned and waved her off.
"Don't start," he told the droid. "I don't need commentary right now."

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then looked back at Vael, shaking his head once in quiet amazement.
"…Okay."
He cleared his throat, posture easing as the shock faded into genuine appreciation.
"Listen," Rynar said, nodding toward him, "when you're done saving our ship from itself, if you want a drink, it's on me."

Vael Saren Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean had been standing just behind Rynar, arms folded loosely across her chest, watching Vael work with the same quiet scrutiny she brought to most things. She had expected competence. She had not expected initiative. And certainly not at this level.

When Vael finished explaining the rewiring, her gaze shifted from the couplings to him, measuring him with a steadiness that felt almost tactile.

"You replaced the pylons' feed lines entirely," she said, not accusing, simply confirming the fact. "Without asking."

There was no edge in her voice. Only assessment. A weighing of choices and consequences.

She stepped forward and crouched beside the junction he had been working in. Her fingers brushed lightly along the newly installed cabling, tracing the route with practiced familiarity. She checked spacing, anchor points, insulation seals, and the subtle tension in the lines. She followed the path up toward the coupling housing, eyes narrowing slightly as she mentally ran through draw tolerances and stress points.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she leaned back on her heels, exhaling through her nose in a way that was almost approval.

"It's clean," she said at last. "Better than what we had. You accounted for fluctuation bleed from the primary engines."

She looked up at him then, her expression steady but no longer guarded. Something in her posture eased, just a fraction, but enough to be noticeable.

"That was not a cosmetic fix."

Rising smoothly, she wiped her hands on a cloth at her belt. She gave Rynar a brief sidelong glance, the kind that carried an entire conversation in a single flicker of her eyes. It said, plainly, we're keeping him.

Then she turned back to Vael.

"The sensor array is aft, port side corridor," she said. "Panel three-seven-A. It misreads depth when we push through dense debris fields. Lag spikes during wide-spectrum scans."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a new kind of interest.

"If you can improve that without tearing out half the housing, I will be impressed."

A faint pause followed, subtle but intentional.

"And thank you."

The words were simple, direct, and unadorned, but from Dean they carried weight. She did not offer gratitude lightly.

Cupcake padded over then, sniffed Vael's boots with great seriousness, huffed once in what could only be interpreted as approval, and settled nearby like a small, furry overseer.

Dean stepped aside, gesturing toward the corridor with a quiet confidence that made it clear she was not relinquishing command, only granting access.

"Come on," she said calmly. "I want to see how you think."

It was not a challenge.

It was an invitation. And from her, that meant something.

Rynar Solde Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

The praise was welcome, to be sure, but secondary to the feeling of accomplishment from a repair well done. He listened to the hum of the coupling in the background as the duo assessed his work. Music to his ears. He returned from his reverie to respond to his battle brother's incredulity.
"I appreciate the offer," he said to Rynar, "And while I may take you up on it, it's not necessary. It's only right to give my best to a brother, no matter what it might require." Despite this, he could not resist the small swell of pride in his chest. Then came Dean's more detached observations. Where some might see her as cold or uncaring, he had lived long enough among the more militant of the adherents of the Way to learn how to see past that muted affect. She was clearly the type who held her feelings close to her chest. He could respect it, even admire it. It was something that many of his peers in the Jedi Enclave - even some Knights - would strive to achieve.
He followed the female Chiss through the ship and toward the sensor array. It was just as well maintained as the rest of the ship. He nodded along with her description of the problem, crossing his arms and humming in thought.
"Part of the problem may have been the power draw," he mused, "but not all of it. I'd like to run a diagnostic on it first, see if the repairs to the power coupling have altered its depth pathing in comparison to previous readings. The lag spikes you're experiencing are likely due to an integer overflow... I'll have to see if I can up the data intake. Or maybe it's something else. I'll need to do some experiments to figure it out." He opened up his toolkit once more. Time to get to work.
Deanez Rynar Solde

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar followed closely, his magnetic boots barely whispering against the deck plating as he navigated the humming corridors of the Vigo. His gaze was a constant, measuring presence, drifting from the confident set of Dean's shoulders to the focused energy radiating from Vael. A low, appreciative chuckle rumbled in his chest as his eyes lingered on Dean's movements ahead of them.

"Careful, Dean," he murmured, his voice a low, teasing rasp that cut cleanly through the ship's ambient noise, loud enough for both of them to hear. "If you keep swaying those hips like that, I'll be forced to file a flight plan. Destination: wherever you're going. Navigation method: pure instinct." He let the innuendo settle in the air, thick and deliberate, before adding with a smirk aimed at Vael, "I hear it's the most reliable way to chart a course to the outer rim."

Shaking his head at his own joke, Rynar unclipped a well-worn data pad from his utility belt. The casing was scuffed and scored, a testament to countless missions. He held it out to Vael, the screen glowing with a soft blue light. "Here. The last three diagnostic cycles for the primary sensor array. Thermal, energy, and resonance outputs are all flagged. Might save you from chasing a phantom power fluctuation." He watched Vael's hands, already ghosting over the tools in the kit, with an almost reverent admiration.

His tone shifted, the playful edge softening into something more genuine. "You know, it's… something else, watching you work. Most of our vode, hell, most people in this galaxy, see a ship like this, a hammer, a blaster, a means to an end. A tool to be used until it breaks, then patched up just enough to get back into the fight." He paused, tapping the data pad against his palm. "But you? You're not just fixing it. You're listening to it. You treat the Vigo like it's a living, breathing brother in beskar'gam, not just a collection of wires and conduits." He met Vael's eyes, his own expression open and uncharacteristically vulnerable. "It's a level of devotion I haven't seen in a long time. Makes a man feel almost inadequate. Almost."

At his side, Cupcake, the large nexu, padded along in silence, her large, intelligent eyes taking in everything. Her tail gave a slow, deliberate flick, and Rynar laughed, a softer, warmer sound this time. "And don't you start," he murmured down at the creature, though the grin spreading across his face betrayed his amusement. "I know what that flick means. You're entirely too judgmental for something that still tries to chew on power couplings."

He deliberately fell back a step, widening the distance between them. His presence became a quiet, steady weight at the edge of the corridor, a silent observer. This was a rare moment of peace, a chance to simply witness another Mandalorian in their true element, not as a warrior in a fight, but as a craftsman honoring their craft. There were no critiques, no suggestions, just a profound respect for the care Vael was about to give the ship they all depended on.

Vael Saren Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean slowed slightly when Rynar's voice drifted down the corridor, the teasing warmth unmistakable. She did not stop walking, did not turn around, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, a tiny roll of her shoulders that suggested she had heard every word.

And was very deliberately choosing how to respond.

After a beat, she glanced back over her shoulder at him, one dark red eye catching the corridor lights, her expression composed… right up until the corner of her mouth curved faintly.

"Careful," she replied evenly, tone calm but threaded with dry amusement. "If you keep talking like that in front of a guest, Vael is going to assume you are either trying to distract me from my job… or proving that Mandalorians have no sense of self-preservation."

A pause.

"Possibly both."

She turned forward again and continued toward the sensor array, one hand lifting to tap lightly against the bulkhead beside her as they passed.

"As for navigation by instinct," she added, voice carrying easily back to him, "it explains several of your flight decisions."

Not criticism.

Affectionate truth.

She stopped beside the sensor console and crouched, opening the access panel with practiced efficiency. The interior lights flickered on, bathing her hands in soft blue as she gestured for Vael to come closer.

"Here," she said, shifting aside to give him room. "Primary relay cluster is behind that housing. We rerouted part of the feed last cycle to stabilize long-range scans. That is when the lag started."

Her gaze flicked briefly to Vael, respectful, attentive.

"If you think it is an overflow issue, you are probably right. I compensated manually, but it was a temporary fix. I did not want to push the system without proper diagnostics."

Then, more quietly, almost as an aside:

"I prefer fixing problems properly. Not loudly."

A very faint hint of humor.

She straightened slightly, folding her arms loosely as she watched Vael work, her attention sharp and focused.

Then she glanced back at Rynar.

Just once.

Her eyes softened.

"And for the record," she added calmly, "if you file a flight plan based on my hips, you are doing the paperwork."

Cupcake chuffed softly nearby, tail flicking.

Dean reached down absently and scratched behind the nexu's ear without looking.

"She agrees," Dean murmured.

And then her focus returned fully to the sensor array, steady, composed, and quietly proud to be standing beside two people who treated their work and each other with the same kind of care.

Rynar Solde Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Vael took the readings data Rynar offered, pulling up the current readings to cross reference. He idly followed the vaguely flirty conversation the duo were having with a small smile. He did not give his input on it, though, too focused on the work in front of him. He did, however, respond when Rynar commented on his dedication to the repair work.

"I see it this way," he began, "My weapons, my ship, my supplies... I treat them with the same sort of care I give my beskar'gam. They are as much an extension of myself as the armor is. If I did not give them what they needed, they could fail me in a thousand different ways at any time - usually when it's most important for them to work." He briefly turned to Dean as well. "We of Mandalore are survivors, but survival instinct and normal self-preservation are very different things. If we were good at self-preservation, we wouldn't have the 'supreme warrior' reputation we now carry."
He turned his eyes back fully to the sensor array. The increased power output had indeed improved its ability to properly chart, but there was still something holding it back. Making sure doing so would not set the ship into motion by doing so, he charted a mock course through a nearby asteroid field. As the array attempted to plan its way through, he could see that the complexity of the course was causing an integer overflow. As the route became more and more intensive, the computer was doing in minutes what should have taken seconds. The machine needed more internal memory. Once more, he dug deep into his bag of tools. He was not certain, but he could have sworn he had some memory boards in there somewhere. Having all of these random bits made lugging the toolbox anywhere but his ship a supreme pain, but it was worth it when situations like this came up, rare though they may be.


Ah-ha!


He pulled a pair of memory boards out of the pile with a grunt of satisfaction. It took some more time to find slots to install them, but install them he did. After doing so, he ran the simulation again. It still was not perfect, but it was performing much closer to expectations. Looking through the hardware again, he realized that the array was likely performing at its best. Age and wear meant that trying to bring it back up to it peak would involve replacing a lot of parts that he did not have.


"I've gotten it as good as it's going to get, I think," he finally said after running a few more diagnostics, "Any more is going to require heavy replacement. Unless you plan on upgrading any time soon, this should do you well."


Rynar Solde Deanez

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar leaned against the bulkhead for a moment, watching Vael work with a quiet sort of approval that wasn't often voiced aloud. The way the man treated the ship and its systems was… refreshing. Methodical, precise, but with heart. It was the kind of care Rynar usually only afforded to his own armor or to Cupcake, and even then, grudgingly at first.

When Vael finally stepped back, satisfied with the memory board installation, Rynar smirked and offered a hand.
"Here," he said lightly, "let me help you up before you twist something you didn't mean to."


Vael accepted, and Rynar gave a subtle shake of his head, grinning under the helmet. "Korda Veydran has no concept of self-preservation, I'm telling you. The man would juggle live detonators for fun..." He paused, his voice dropping slightly, almost conspiratorial. "...I've seen him do it. Once. And play hacky sack with the same ones. He laughs through every hit. Masochist, if you ask me."

Rynar's tone shifted to a low shudder, even as the humor lingered. "Bar brawls? He walks through them like it's a stroll in the park. Drunk or sober, I've seen him rip a lifter droid clean in half. Just… because he could."

He looked back at Dean, tilting his head, a smirk visible even beneath his helmet. "Sometimes, survival demands you sacrifice self-preservation. Like… well… when I found Cupcake as a cub. Better off leaving her, and yet I didn't. I knew the risk. And she's still with me."

He gave a short laugh, more self-deprecating than proud. "Some things are worth the gamble. Looks like Vael gets it too."
Cupcake let out a soft chuff at the last, tail flicking in quiet agreement, as if endorsing both Rynar's story and his approval of Vael.

Vael Saren Deanez

 

[Deanez]

Dean had been standing a little off to the side, arms loosely folded across her chest, watching Vael work with the same quiet intensity she brought to most things. She wasn't hovering or inserting herself into the process, and she certainly wasn't second‑guessing him. She was simply observing—taking in every adjustment he made, every deliberate choice, every moment where he paused to think before committing to the next step. It was the kind of attention that felt less like scrutiny and more like respect.

When he finally stepped back and offered his assessment, she inclined her head in a small, measured nod that carried more weight than a dozen spoken compliments.

"That is more than good enough," she said calmly, her voice steady in that way that made it clear she meant it. "Reliable matters more than perfect. Especially for us."

Her gaze shifted to Vael then, steady and sincere, as if she wanted him to understand that she wasn't offering empty praise.

"You did not just patch it," she added, her tone softening with genuine appreciation. "You actually fixed the problem. That tells me everything I need to know about how you work."

And then Rynar started talking.

About Korda.
About detonators.
About brawls.
About Cupcake.

Dean's expression shifted in subtle, precise increments—first mild amusement at the sheer inevitability of it all, then a flicker of concern at the mention of explosives, followed by the resigned acceptance of someone who had long ago made peace with the chaos that came packaged with the people she cared about.

By the time he finished, one brow had lifted just slightly, the gesture small but eloquent.

"…Of course he juggles explosives," she murmured dryly, as if the universe had once again proven itself predictable in the most inconvenient ways. "Why would he not?"

She stepped closer to Rynar, her movements unhurried, and reached out to rest a hand briefly against his arm. The touch was grounding, familiar, the kind of contact that said she knew exactly who he was and had chosen him anyway.

"And you," she continued, looking up at him now with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, "have always had a remarkable talent for deciding that 'this is a terrible idea' and doing it anyway."

There was no accusation in her voice, no frustration simmering beneath the words. Only quiet affection, shaped by long familiarity.

Her eyes softened as she glanced toward Cupcake, who was still very clearly pleased with herself and entirely unrepentant.

"But," Dean added more quietly, her voice dipping into something gentler, "you are right. Some things are worth the risk."

She turned back to Vael then, meeting his gaze with calm, unforced respect.

"You treated our ship like it mattered," she said simply, as if that alone carried enormous significance. "Not like a contract. Not like a favor. Like something people depend on."

A small pause followed, deliberate and sincere.

"That makes you welcome here."

Her fingers tightened gently once on Rynar's sleeve before she let go, the gesture brief but intimate.

"And for the record," she added, her tone shifting into something faintly wry, "if either of you start juggling detonators on my ship, I will personally eject you into space."

Cupcake chuffed in agreement, entirely too proud of herself.

Dean's lips curved into a small, genuine smile—quiet, warm, and unmistakably real.

Rynar Solde Vael Saren

 

[Vael Saren]

Saren smiled under his helmet, basking in the warmth of familiarity and gratitude. It made him all the more thankful he had let his guard down and connected with the duo. It was a lonely existence he lived, more often than not. Years of seclusion and trauma had made that loneliness easier. It was not, however, a fulfilling life. Making friends like this was rare, but it was so gratifying when it happened. He leaned against the nearby wall, loosely crossing his arms and letting out a small laugh at the banter between the two partners.

"I've got no detonators to juggle, sadly," he said, "but I'm halfway decent at spinning blasters, if that tickles your fancy. In any event, Rynar's got the right of it. We of Mandalore tend to gravitate toward 'high risk - high reward' scenarios. It's the only way to know for certain that you're doing something worth doing. After all, if it can't kill you, is it even worth looking at?" A joke... mostly. Some of the more militant of their ilk certainly did think like that. Usually the ones who were sent out to the frontlines consistently. Adrenaline junkies like that could rarely function without something trying to execute them. It honestly freaked Vael out just a bit.

Deanez Rynar Solde

 

[Rynar Solde]

Rynar let out a low, rumbling chuckle at Vael's comment, the sound carrying easy warmth down the corridor.
"Detonators are deactivated," he said casually, waving one hand dismissively. "Right now."

A beat.
"And I can't juggle anyway. Tried once. Nearly redecorated a docking bay."
He stepped in without hesitation, slinging an arm across Vael's shoulders in the unceremonious, solid way of a warrior claiming camaraderie. His gloved hand thumped lightly against Vael's chest plate.

"You spin blasters, you rewire couplings, you upgrade memory boards from a mystery toolbox…" Rynar gave a satisfied nod. "You're doing just fine, vod."
He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before letting his arm fall.
"I'll make a note not to let Korda onto the Vigo-77 with anything explosive on his belt," he added, tone darkening slightly with memory. "He's got a habit of 'improving' base thermals."

Rynar visibly shuddered.
"I've seen what his improvements do."

A pause.
"…I'm fairly certain one of them violated several laws of physics and basic decency."
He shook his head as if clearing the image, then brightened abruptly, classic Rynar shift.
"Anyway," he said, clapping his hands together once, "enough talk of accidental ship vaporization."

He glanced between Dean and Vael, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Either of you up for a game of sabacc?"
His brow lifted in challenge.
"I promise no explosives, no modified decks, and no betting the ship."

A glance at Dean.
"…Again."
Cupcake chuffed, tail flicking, as if fully supportive of chaos, but preferably the card-playing kind this time.

Deanez Vael Saren

 

[Deanez]

Dean had been leaning lightly against one of the bulkheads while the two of them traded commentary about detonators and the philosophical merits of near-death experiences, her arms loosely folded and her expression composed in that quiet way that often made people underestimate how closely she was actually listening.

When Vael delivered his line about high risk and high reward, one corner of her mouth curved faintly.

"If something can kill you, it is usually worth evaluating from a safe distance first," she replied calmly. "Preferably while behind reinforced plating."

Her gaze shifted between them, cool but not unkind.

"Adrenaline is not the same thing as purpose."

The words were gentle, observational rather than critical, but there was weight behind them. She had seen enough of warriors chasing the feeling of being alive by nearly dying to recognize the pattern.

When Rynar slung his arm around Vael and started issuing informal commendations, she let the faint smile linger. There was something grounding about watching him in this mode—relaxed, easy, generous with approval instead of haunted by corridors and fire.

"Blaster spinning, I can tolerate," she added dryly, glancing toward Vael. "So long as it remains a demonstration and not a reconstruction of your docking bay incident."

Her eyes flicked meaningfully toward Rynar.

Then came the sabacc challenge.

Dean lifted a brow at the mention of not betting the ship again.

"Your definition of 'again' is doing a great deal of work there," she noted.

Cupcake's chuff drew her attention briefly before she looked back at the two Mandalorians with quiet consideration.

"A game of sabacc is acceptable," she decided after a moment. "Provided the stakes remain reasonable."

Her gaze lingered on Rynar.

"That means no ships. No armor. No 'friendly dares' that involve gravity or open airlocks."

A faint pause.

"And no explosives."

She pushed off the bulkhead and moved toward the small common area with smooth, deliberate steps, already reaching for the deck they kept stowed in one of the compartments.

"If either of you attempts to shuffle theatrically," she added mildly, "I will assume you are cheating."

Her eyes flicked up, dark and almost amused.

"Deal in."

Vael Saren Rynar Solde

 

[Vael Saren]

"Sabaac?" he chuckled, "Haven't played a hand of sabaac in a while. You'll forgive me if I'm a tad rusty, if that's what we're doing." Rust aside, he settled in for the game. It was a more personable Mando's game, sabaac. He had gotten more used to playing against himself in pazaak. Still, this could be fun. Another hunter he had met during his exile had said that 'losing money could be quite fun and habit-forming.' Granted, that man played more for stories than credits. That way, he always won.

"Trust me," he said to Dean, "I may be a man of many talents, but shuffling theatrics have so far eluded me. The last time I tried - just trying to amuse myself during a long stakeout - I wound up finding cards inside crevices of the Oathkeeper for months. Fairly certain I still haven't found that third +6 card." He leaned forward at their table, eyes glinting under his helmet.

"Deal us in then, friend."

Deanez Rynar Solde