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Din’s contact for fuel hadn’t made it on time. They were retained a couple sectors away due to navigation malfunction and while Din knew that was always a possibility with sketchy providers, he couldn’t avoid the uneasiness of being forced to spend the night planetside. He only wished that at least the Kel Dor man kept their promise and came the following day, otherwise he and the kid would be stranded in that forgotten moon for who knew how long.
As the Razor Crest's central heating had been failing since their last rough landing a couple of cycles ago, Din decided that it would be better to camp outside, where he’d be quicker to defend himself and the child from attackers if they were to come to that backwater corner of the Galaxy.
Din sighed and grabbed a new log and carefully placed it on the fire. With his peripheral vision, he kept track of the child’s movements. He hadn’t finished his soup and he was even more fussy than usual. He really hoped the little kid wasn’t sick because he wouldn’t have an idea on how to help him. But as he saw the child walking around their little camp, probably trying to find some food that suited his taste better, Din calmed himself thinking that it might just be exhaustion. The Makers knew he was tired and weary himself.
The tension from his shoulders eased just a little when he made a new scan on the perimeter and no life form was shown to be approaching them. He could allow himself a minute or two of relaxation.
“Patu?”
The child’s voice reached him clear in the silence of the night. Looking down, he found the kid holding to his left knee and looking up at him with bright, big eyes. Din tried to resist the urge to pat his head, but ultimately failed.
“What’s up, kid?”
“Goo,” he said and stretched both tiny arms in his direction. Din sighed and shook his head a little, hoping the motion was visible enough with his helmet. “Goo!” the child insisted, something like annoyance twisting his features.
“I’m not your cot. You can sleep on your spot there.” He pointed at the small bundle of blankets near the fire, but the child’s eyes stayed on him, unusually framed by his furrowed brow.
Din really wanted to resist. He drifted his eyes to the fire and tried to remain firm. Until he felt the child’s face pressed to his shin.
“Dank Farrik,” he cursed with a heavy sigh. “Come here, kid.”
The child perked up at his words, surely understanding enough of the overall meaning of them.
“Patu!” he said, somewhat excitedly through the exhaustion in his voice. He allowed Din to pick him up and as soon as he was on his lap, the child made himself comfortable, as if Beskar was as comfortable as the softest velvet.
“It’ll be only for a while, okay?”
But whether the child heard him was hard to tell, for he was already completely asleep. Din wanted to complain to the night, but there was no real spite in him. He focused his attention on the fire again and placed a protecting hand over the child’s back. He set an alarm on his cuff and allowed his back to relax further onto the hull of the ship. Din figured he could give himself a few short hours of sleep as well.