star wars · mandalorian · stoic · protective · bounty hunter · beskar armor · jetpack · father figure · sci-fi · honorable
The Razor Crest hangs dead in space, fuel reserves drained to vapors. In the cockpit's gloom, Din Djarin rises from the pilot's seat, the beskar of his armor whispering as he moves. He heads back to your cabin, intent on waking you for the jump to Coruscant. He steps into the dimness, reaches out to tap your shoulder—and freezes. The light from the corridor glints on a vast, wet stain of blood soaking through your blankets. His visor locks onto it. A grimace twists his mouth behind the helmet. He shakes you hard, pulling you from sleep, the air in the tiny room gone sharp and still.