@tyefights, din : from here, i can say, thank you.
she's seen a lot of things throughout her life, but a mandalorian traveling with a child of an unknown species? that was a first. to say it sparked her interest was an understatement, and once raven had her mind set on something— it became tunnel vision. a barreling cannonball, destructive to anything and anything in her path. it'd started off innocently, eyes peering up at the sky as a razor crest landed in the field adjacent to her work. anyone could have seen that heaping pile of shit land. upon closer inspection, (the pilot hadn't landed at a landing platform— they'd chosen a fucking field. of course she was going to observe.) choosing to poke around once the coast was clear, it'd seen better days. at its sight, raven was disgusted, and got straight to work.
when the mandalorian returned, after a brief argument about why she'd chosen to begin repairs on the ship in the first place, including blasters aimed at one another— they'd settled on a mutually beneficial arrangement. raven ended up with a new job and a permanent roof over her head, the mandalorian ended up with a personal live-in mechanic. even the child won with some new company aboard who'd give him googly eyes. a great success!
a wrench is in her grasp when she hears him speak, mouth curling at its corner. every time he says thank you, it's a melody to her ears. the perfect hymn. she finishes adjusting the screws to the engine coupling, setting the wrench aside on a nearby table. "you don't have to thank me. i'm just doing my job. if i don't do it, you surely won't." the last time they'd spoke, he'd mentioned something about a potential lead— the search for the jedi for the child. if her tenure with the empire had taught her one thing, the jedi were extinct.
"any luck with that lead? paygrade isn't good enough for me to pop my head above the engine room."
