Dank Farrik Drabble #35

First time I’m writing Cobb Vanth for this @dankfarrikdrabbles prompt, Oil/Contemplative, hopefully he sounds “right”!

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He saw them arrive from a long way away in that distinctive Naboo starfighter. Visitors in Freetown were rare, even if the recent battle in Mos Espa had seen an influx of support from the bigger town. Cobb wasn’t sure how he felt about that – he liked the anonymity of their isolated settlement. And he knew his people preferred that city folks left them alone. They wanted to remain free to do as they pleased.

It wasn’t all bad, obviously, and he’d be dead today if it wasn’t for the daimyo’s help, who turned out to be the rightful owner of his old armor. Guess he had to appreciate the irony of it all, somehow. Cobb stayed seated and observed them making their way towards his makeshift guard post – a table and a couple of chairs in front of his office. Not the most threatening setup perhaps, but he wouldn’t let himself be surprised a second time.

“Is that guilt I’m seeing on your face?” he asked, pretending he could see through that shiny helmet of his. The Mandalorian slowed his steps and Cobb shrugged. The man still couldn’t take a joke. Surely he should be pleased to learn that his funny bone was intact despite the Duros hunter’s attempt to crush it.

Cobb grabbed the oil canister from the table and went back to his task, letting him observe his new mechanical shoulder and arm in silence. He liked that about him – he didn’t ask unnecessary questions. And that helmet meant he wouldn’t have to read pity in his eyes, although he doubted it would be there. The Mandalorian didn’t strike him as that kind of person, despite his attempt to make a joke earlier.

“Those squeaky sounds are driving me mad,” he still felt like explaining, as he sat in front of him, that strange kid of his plonking himself down at his feet. “You got him back then, huh?” he remarked unnecessarily, and it was the Mandalorian’s turn to shrug.

“Hardly seems fair, you got your kid back but my old armor’s still with that other Mando.”

Cobb applied a couple of drops of oil in the mechanism, and the creaking stopped. Apart from that, it was working pretty well, and he could almost draw his blaster as fast as before. Almost.

“The armor belongs to him, it was his father’s.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that,” he grumbled. “I’m not saying I want it back, but it sure as hell would have helped me on that day.”

“I doubt it, his armor doesn’t have beskar pauldrons like mine, the result would have been the same,” the Mandalorian said, sounding uncharacteristically smug. Did the man actually have a sense of humor, Cobb marveled?

“I would have probably died without that bacta tank, and he did pay for the surgery, so I guess we’re square, he and I. And he did offer me a job as well.”

“You’re gonna take it?” the Mandalorian asked, genuinely curious.

Cobb flexed his hand and admired the different gears and bolts doing their job. They all worked perfectly. And if it wasn’t for that damn sand he would even be spared those grating sounds. But the oil did its job, too. Everything had a purpose and everything was as it should be.

“I don’t know…” he replied, giving himself some time to find the right words. The tiny kid asked to be picked up by raising his arms and the other man grabbed him immediately, sitting him on his lap so that he could see what was happening.

“We do agree on many things and we’re both glad to see the syndicate and their spice gone, but these people rely on me, now more than ever.”

It had scared him at first to see how much his almost-dying had rattled the small town. But when he’d learned of their bravery, taking part in the battle of Mos Espa despite it all, that fear had turned into pride. And every time he started feeling a little sorry for himself or he got overwhelmed with his recovery, he remembered that they were counting on him to get better, and it helped immensely. He had their support, no matter what.

“Mos Pelgo, Freetown, however it’s called in the future: it’s my home, and someone has to make sure it’s still standing, and I don’t mind it being me,” he concluded, feeling more serene now that the words were out.

Looking at the other man, Cobb realized that he probably didn’t have one of those – a home. He could see it in the way he hugged that kid of his a little tighter. So maybe him getting the child back was fair enough. He still had his town. He still had his people. And the Mandalorian still had his son.