from @candykline: can i ask you something? - din
it's an understood rule of the sordid cantina — don't speak to the masked mandalorian sitting alone near the back. don't approach his table. don't come crawling into his intimidating presence and deal with the agonizing silence of his silent stare. you're not likely to get a response, and you're even less likely to get any movement, any tilt of the head. when din is seated there, elbows on the table, body rigid, weapon at his hip, there's no use approaching. it's pointless. useless. futile.
however, candy kline is far from pointless, and her skills with a weapon are certainly not futile. she's bubbly, buoyant, and brilliant like a solid, steady light in the center of a room of darkness. seated across from the mandalorian without a single care for the understood rules of the cantina, candice speaks up and often, prying through the shadows to dig deep into din's unwavering distance. if there are inferred rules in this bar, she disregards them. she chooses her own path, and for that reason alone... din secretly likes her.
can i ask you something? it's such an innocent start, even though candy kline is also far from innocent (sometimes her shots with a blaster put din's aim to shame). "what?" din hasn't moved. his gloved hands still lay across the table, one atop the other. his visor doesn't even tilt in her direction. "sure." other bar patrons move around them, weaving in and out of chairs and around booths on the way to get their drinks, but din pays no attention. still immovable — "ask away."