Ask Nau'ur Mandokar

[Kotii Solus]

THEME​

Dangers lurked in all corners of the galaxy. Mandalorians had a region of space to call their own which held its fair share of risk when traveling. But Mandalorians were capable of being nomadic as well. Distant and remote pockets of the warrior culture had become estranged from one another in the ages they had separated. Despite this, Kotii was banking on their similarities and shared interest to gain their favor.

As Alor of House Solus, it was up to Kotii to set the example and lead from the front. The planet of Vlemoth Port had a Lormar class refinery station in orbit over it. What was more, there were factories on the surface of the planet owned by differing Mandalorian clans.

The planet's population numbered in less than a million making it a seldom visited backwater world. A handful of towns and villages existed on the surface though the refinery space station acted as its own small city in space too. But Kotii knew better which was why he had brought the Werda Kom'rk to the surface of the world. Not one for an entourage, Kotii was alone as he stared at the industriousness over the horizon.

Behind his T visor, the Mandalorian looked at the back of his left hand. The light of the planet hit the arm as he walked out into the city of Arumorut. Kotii was still getting used to the cybernetic below the wrist. Doctor Morata had helped him out. It was at the edge of the system he had boarded the Resolute Defiance and subsequently lost his hand in the process. The undead onboard were not soon forgotten. But he was thankful to be on good terms with the CEO of MorataCorp. Then again, she was a difficult woman to read so maybe she did not like him all that much.

Numerous Talz and Muun as well as the array of humans and near-humans were visible in the streets of the town. They gave the red and black armored Mandalorian some looks. Armed as he usually was, the one man army still earned himself a wide birth down the public streets. So far the echani-corellian did not see many other Mandalorians present. A few shops displayed writing in Mando'a runes and a image of strill over swoop-bike shop gave him pause. Slowly his eyes looked up towards the sky. In the distance, the spec of the Lomar space station twinkled back as it reflected some of the sunlight to the surface. They're probably up there...working. He thought to himself. Working like dwarves in a forge and keeping to themselves. But it was the leadership and other comrades on the surface he was here for first. There was no way House Solus would earn the capabilities of the refineries.

To everyone else it would look like the warrior was window shopping. But to any local, they might be able to deduce he was not from around here. Mandalorians were perhaps not a rare sight around these parts. The best option was for him to keep walking around until maybe he spotted one. It wasn't like he had a postcard with a distant relative's commlink number on it. If he was meeting someone they would be meeting as strangers.

MandalMotors and their subsidiary, Mandal Hypernautics were known to have survived as a corporation after the Great Purge. Smart business had allowed the company to survive the age like its people. On the run and in hiding, Kotii Solus had a hunch that this was one of the last bastion of Mandalorian manufacturing genius. Kotii hoped things went well as he turned away from the swoop bike shop. Maybe I should ask around to get directions. Sometimes that was the most awkward part of his job.


@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Tunk.

Thunk.

Thmp.

Ca-chink.

The forge fires burned bright for her. The steady fall of the forge's hammer was music to her ears, a steady pulse that beat in tandem with her heart. The blue flames glinted and glowed against nondescript silver armor as a Selkath sat patiently, idly flipping through their holopad as she steadily repaired his chest plate. He was going to go off soon, so he claimed, to pursue bounties. Such endeavors seemed foolish to her, the lad hardly had enough years behind him to capture even a womp rat, never mind a hardened criminal.

Clan Awaud sometimes came through, demanding her smithing skills, but rarely did they bring anything worthy of her hammer. Very few had beskar'gam that deserved the forges that had burned for her family for hundreds of years. However, few others would bother to seek her out, or so she would think. The last remaining daughter of a family whose number dwindled dramatically since the last Great Purge was a nobody.

<<Child.>>

The Selkath sitting didn't even stir from his position as another Mandalorian stepped through the doorway. Like her own armor, his was kept nondescript of color or clan marking, save the insignia on one shoulder. A rough cloak wrapped around him, and she lowered the hammer, dimmed down the forge.

The payment was enough, but her father's visit was strange.

<<Yes?>> she replied curtly, and she could see him shift, begin to settle down on one of the chairs typically reserved for clients. She could already see from his body language he was working up the courage to say something. To walk away, like her instincts told her to, would be disrespectful and cowardly. Though her father was a level-headed, quiet-spoken man, it was her mother that would have been blunt. Her mother...

<<You need to stop.>>

She gritted her jaw, setting away the hammer, beginning to cool down the forge. "Stop what? Bringing us business?"

He exhaled at her use of Basic; she didn't need to be a Jetii or Dar'Jetii to hear the disappointment in his tone before he even began speaking. <<You need to find a place to settle your forge. This place will not sustain you.>>

"I will sustain us," she replied, scowling beneath her helm.

She could almost imagine him opening his mouth to speak... Ah, if the memory played out for longer---

She opened her eyes beneath the helmet. The dream cut off just as quickly as it had begun before; groggily, she sat back up, the sounds of the city filtering right outside her lean-to. She had hastily built it the night before, to establish some credits before moving on again. It had been a long time since she had been to Arumorut, but word of mouth was good, and there were several pleased with her work.

Letting out a bodily sigh, she rolled out of the cot, securing on her helmet once more.

It was a new day, and the line for clients wasn't going to grow shorter by sleeping through it.

Once more, the forge was activated, and the familiar heft of the hammer and tongs a comfortable, easy weight in her grip once again.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Kotii's measured stride took him steadily through town. A few individuals were wearing Beskar'gam. But they were partial plate mostly, though in good condition. <"Where's your forgemaster?"> He inquired in Mando'a. When they did not respond in kind he repeated himself in galactic standard basic. "Your armor. Who maintains it?" After that he was given directions towards a local forge and it.

Before long, Kotii came to the simple and unimpressive lean-to. There were a few individuals outside. Kotii wondered if one of them was the armorer. "You the one working the metal?" He asked a blonde man with an impressively long gotee. Kotii's helmet remained at eye level but he couldn't help but watch the bottom of the beard wiggle as the man answer. "Nah they're in there. You'll have to-"

"Thanks" He replied and did not wait another moment. Kotii walked past the people who had been waiting and into the forge area. The man could be patient at times but this was not one of them.

"Wait you can't" "uh hu" He interrupted unenthusiastically. The badger was undeterred from going forward. What qualified as a door closed behind the Mandalorian. "Morning." It wasn't like he was trying to sneak up on anyone.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Mysha had a standard, a certain way of doing things. And when people interrupted that, they interrupted her rhythm. Smithing didn't mean just whaling at things with hammer and tongs, there was a patience, an art with it that required landing blows carefully and mindfully.

The unfamiliar voice made what would have been a straightening blow not strong enough, and snarl under her breath. She didn't care who the man was. He could be the Mand'alor themselves, and she would have still treated him the same. Holding the arm plate carefully between the tongs, her helmet turned towards his, and her gaze narrowed beneath her helmet. The armor was unfamiliar to her; she wouldn't have let it be so rugged. Solus, probably.

She lifted the hammer again, turning her back to him.

<<You can get in line and wait,>> she replied back, the blue light of the forge flaring against the silvery-white armor of her own design. <<All customers are in order. Or,>> she shrugged once, <<You can sit and wait until I am finished. Do not interrupt me.>> Her words weren't spoken casually or flippantly, but with a gravity that brooked no argument. She instead no longer focused on the stranger in her forge, but the task still waiting. Every moment was critical; she adjusted her swing, and with satisfaction noted the plate rang true.

She was told beskar was better to work with, but such pieces were so rare that it was almost worth its' weight in billions of credits. She could remember the last time she had worked with it. It sang for her hammer like no other music. This stranger might not have beskar, but something about his manner told her he was likely as unyielding as that gorgeous metal. He could wait.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

For a few seconds he was met only with silence. The relative stillness of the forge like it was holding its breath until its master spoke. She replied in Mando'a, causing Kotii's helmet to tilt ever so slightly to the side. Unlike the Mandalorians with partial plate, she both literally and figuratively had retained more of her people's culture than the others.

The red armored Mandalorian smiled a bit at hearing her reply. The warning the armorer gave him was one he could respect and understand. If he did not heed her words then he was going to be the next thing she worked with her hammer. A barely audible exhalation of breath escape Kotii's nose, his shoulders sagging slightly in the process. He did not even dare say a word and instead would just act.

Turning his head to the side, the Alor wondered if he should head outside to wait. After a heartbeat of silence the Armorer got back to work. Kotii did not say anything or ask a question. Instead he would move over to where he assumed the spot to sit was and sat down.

The crate looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. There was a slight squeak that came from its integrity coming into question but the Mandalorian was pretty sure he wasn't that heavy even with his armor and equipment.

Keeping both of his gloved hand in front of him, Kotii waited patiently. Occasionally he would glance and watch the woman work before finding himself staring at his hands. Both were covered in black gloves and painted armor. The metal of his vambraces were both made of pure beskar and were the only parts off his armor made of the stuff.

There was another's armor he wanted to find. An ancestor of his who's armor was not recovered. But for today he wondered if she would be able to find time to look into his suit.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

The stranger was not talked to, nor indulged in anything in particular while she worked. Customers came and left; many of her clients had already been addressed, and were waiting for last-minute items. Blasters that malfunctioned, an armor function that shorted out, broken vambraces and shabby duraplast armor. There was very little in this batch of clients that she struggled with working with; not many required the actual forge, and fuel was a necessary resource.

Turning from the last client's upgraded chest piece, she noted the man sitting, then set down her tongs, dimming the forge flames with a few button presses. He had stayed silent; that was a point in his favor. When the flames began to die down, the room darkened from the lack of ambient lighting apart from a few glowing rods. Still gripping her hammer, her voice spoke to him again, assessing him as surely as he was assessing her.

<<What is a Solus doing, visiting an armorer?>> she asked, head tilted slightly to regard him. <<Not many of ours come through with full armor like yours these days, and I doubt you came here for me to make you more.>> She wouldn't mince her words; she wanted to get straight to the point. The blue flames began to flicker, and dim to a low glow. <<So how can I help you?>>

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Occasionally the man shifted to look at the customers that would pay the working warrior a visit in her forge. But otherwise remained still. The customers of Mysha he had pushed past stared at him when they came and went but did not talk to him. A hint of sourness in their stares lingered as he waited for Mysha to finish.\

Every Mandalorian knew the importance of their armor and most of their people cared for beskar just as much as their own lives. But learning the trade and being given the honor of a clan's armorer by way of forging it was a rarity. There was time to ponder the importance of his armor, the functions and means of protection that sometimes the Alor realized he took for granted. Already he was glad to visit the world and this forge if for nothing else than perspective.

Eventually she spoke up against with the same authoritative voice as before though maybe a little less annoyed. <"I'm visiting, thought I'd see how the local smith was doing before approaching Clan Awaud for wholesale production."> Kotii remained seated as he replied at first. He had every intention of commissioning fang starfighters if he could find the leadership of MandalMotors somewhere in the city or on the planet. That would greatly help House Solus and enforce the defensive measures at their disposal. The big projects were not on his mind though. The armorer had made an appopriate assumption about the red and black armored warrior.

<"My vambraces could use some attention, especially my left one."> Both of his gloved and gauntleted hands raised in front of Kotii's blank T visor. The digits wiggled for a moment and flipped over. The paint had been pealed and scrapped off from its usage but the pure beskar surface had held up well. Kotii stood up and began to remove them, starting with the right one.

<"Have you ever worked with scatterweave before?"> The paint on his gauntlets was black to fit with his name as Black Hand but also for the sake of House Solus. <"Or a kama?"> He was thinking about wearing one. The jaig eyes of a leader were something else he had contemplated. Kotii felt like he had yet to earn them yet though. He felt wrong just giving them to himself as the leader for his aliit. When I've earned them He reminded himself inwardly.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Local smith.

For some reason, she bristled at that term. Setting down her hammer as well, she crossed her arms beneath her bust, listening to what he had to say. Armorers, even true smiths of the trade, were few and far between these days. But she was hardly local. <<I travel a bit,>>, she replied but tilted her head at his words of meeting up with Clan Awaud. <<I know of that Clan, but I am not one of them,>>, she continued, however when he stood she shifted, head tilted down to stare at his vambraces. Even in the low light, she could see the familiar gleam of metal, and her fingers tingled at the sight.

Beskar.

Her eyes flicked back up to his visor, staring hard. Many of their people had mere scraps of beskar for their armor; her own armor was, sadly, not as pure as she would have liked. The beskar'gam of old was harder and harder to come by, so anyone having more than one piece on them immediately set her on her guard. Who was this man? Reaching her hand out, she lightly touched over his right vambrace, then let out a quiet sigh.

<<Get chewed on by a Zakkeg?>> she quipped, eyeing the pieces thoughtfully. At his words, however, her head snapped up. And though he couldn't see the scowl, her words were still their measured, steady heaviness, with a hint of ire behind them. <<I might have worked on a kama or two before,>> came the drawling response, before turning away. <<Want a repaint job with the vambraces as well, or merely repair work?>> Very few people could get under her skin, but something about how he questioned her skills nettled a little. Turning away, she would begin her work.

It wouldn't take long, but she would be careful. This metal was something that was always a treasure to work with.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Her responses were minimal but that was to be expected of an reserved member of their people. It was rare to see an orange armored Mandalorian with an open 'lust for life' these days. But Kotii could also detect the difference between being reserved and being curt. The tone the Armorer gave the Alor told him she was not approving of him entirely.

Great. You're supposed to lead a House. You should at least be able to talk to her amicably. Kotii thought to himself. He was glad for not just the helmet but the mask over his mouth underneath as well. He was very concerned with how he appeared. How much he gave away.

<"You're not from here?"> He asked making it clear Kotii was aware the assumption from earlier may have been incorrect.

Kotii's pale right hand was visible after he had removed the gauntlet. It was only partially covered by the body glove now and the same could be said for his other arm. Handing them each over to the Armored for her to work, his cybernetic hand hooked a thumb on his belt. <"A frenzied undead actually. AMS sweep and clear on a corvette."> The beskar had held up but the spacing between the plates had been torn and the teeth of that zombie had cost Kotii his natural hand. He shrugged but was bothered by it more than he let on since that was his dominant hand.

She had not answered about the scatterweave so Kotii took that as a no. But the news about a kama was good. <"Please, if it's not too much trouble."> Kotii would reply when asked about his vambraces getting painted. The urge to keep conversing while she worked was there. The mixed blood man wanted to learn more about the stranger but also knew to not disturb her while she worked. It would give him time to think of the right thing to say.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

At first, she didn't answer his question about where she was from. She was already lost in her craft, in assessing damage and repairing what she could. A pity and relief the beskar itself wasn't terribly damaged, but it was a little rough. Some cleaning and more delicate repair work would be needed.

Sitting down on another stool near the forge, she began to examine the rest of the vambraces for underside damage as well as structural integrity, before beginning her work. When she spoke again, she did not look in his direction. <<I go where I am needed.>> And that was all.

She hadn't missed the part of the scatterweave; she sighed, bending to her work with practiced finesse. This work was her life and only real joy. Pride in her work ran deep in her bones. <<I have worked with all kinds of materials. Even scatterweave.>>

However, she spoke little else, instead focusing on her work once more. But... part of her was now growing curious about the Solus. So few others of his Clan came into her services, being elusive for a few generations.

<<... I'm Mysha Kelborn. What about you?>>

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Hearing her answer, the Mandalorian's visor indifferently scanned the surroundings. His eyes focused on the details though which told him this was a temporary set up. Maybe she was more of the nomadic type. She was of a different clan than the Awaud though there were few markings on her armor to denote any allegiance. She continued to work and he recognized the endurance, strength and skill she performed before his very eyes.

When she gave him her name he knew there was not much of a way to verify it. But he trusted her and replied in kind. Normally with aruetii he only gave them Black Hand as a stand in. <"I'm Kotii Solus. Alor of House Solus."> The title of Alor was still a bit new on his lips. But the more he said it the more it became true. Kotii had to say it to remind himself. Otherwise he wasn't living up to his responsibility, which was the last thing he wanted. It was important to have that because of what he would say soon.

Kotii wanted to have Mysha's understand and like him. So naturally he thought to share with her why he was there. Normally reserved and a man of few words, Kotii continued. His robotic hand came to his chest plate, gesturing to himself with an open palm. <"I've come to Vlemoth Port looking for more of our brothers and sisters. Specifically ones that might have ties to MandalMotors. I thought maybe Clan Awaud might know something."> It was his way of opening things into further discussion. <"I came here because I spoke to some of your customers. They had good things to say."> Mysha's work had come recommended after all.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Alor of Solus. It checked out, with his having beskar and his general attitude. For a moment, she stilled her work, head tilted... then continued the repairwork carefully, letting out a low hum in response. Kotii. Wasn't a bad name, not that she was the right judge for names. Or of anything beyond smithing and weapons. Coming here for MandalMotors though, perhaps would mean ships. Armament. It could be an indirect way for her to gain more employment beyond relying on moisture farmers and small-time bounty hunters in need of basic repairs. He was right on the money, though; Clan Awaud likely knew plenty of connections with that company.

However, at his words from her customers, she paused and set the vambrace down. Turning to face him, she set down her tools on the table and crossed her arms, head cocked slightly. <<They might know something,>> she agreed. <<Smithing is a family trade. I learned from an expert in his field; it is his training that has given me those good things to say about my work.>> It was hard to accept praise; harder still to keep her from showing her pride. However, a small part of it slipped into her tone, a small smile evidenced in her words.

<<So are you just here on business, or are there greater reasons for bringing in brothers and sisters?>> She turned away from him again, uncrossing her arms to give both left and right pieces a proper look-over, before resuming her work. <<There aren't many of us left for any calling.>>

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Family trade, perhaps she was born into the Mandalorian life style then and not adopted into it. But that could mean a lot of things. <"Was it a parent that taught you?"> he asked curiously. The man was pleased to have a positive response from the woman. At least it seemed less defensive than when they first had met. <"I should think they would be proud of your work."> Kotii was not an armorer so perhaps the compliment diid not carry much weight. But often that was what Mandalorian's sought, approval and fulfillment in clan work.

<"There are some..."> Kotii answered Mysha to the contrary. <"...some of the Clans had a moot at the Black Keep on Mandalore. Others on Lothal from what I hear."> The latter he had not attended. However the former, he had been able to hear the voices of the other clans and Mandalorians as well as announce his own status as leader for House Solus. All the same Kotii doubted the woman's interest in other clan's affairs at this time.

<"I'm trying to strengthen House Solus like it used to be."> Some allegiances had changes. Some clans did not even exist anymore. Kotii after taking in a thoughtful breath off air. <"I don't want us to be at the mercy of other parties or be duped. The last time we Mandalorians had a hold of the galaxy, Mandalore the Chosen had lead us."> There was more Kotii could say. His bare ungloved hands had begun to ball into fists with his conviction showing through. <"...do you think I'm biting off more than I can chew?"> His helmet cocked to the side, wondering what her impression was.

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

She paused, cocking her head at his question. Even without a verbal answer, it was clear the answer was yes, it was a parent. <<My father was Alor of Kelborn.>> This was stated dryly, as she continued her work. <<Smithing was something he did as a passion; I wanted to make his passion my life. He has departed...>> The hammer fell once, sparks flying from the blow. She paused a moment, then struck again. <<...And since I have not heard from a new Alor of my Clan, that is what I shall be. But the hammer is my own judgement of people.>>

It was all well and good that he wanted to strengthen Solus, but she couldn't help the mirthless huff that slipped past her lips at his idealism. How many times had they scratched and scrabbled to try and rise above the others, before being glassed, proven the latest trendy genocide and forced to hide? How many times would their culture be shattered until not even these remnants would linger on?

<<Yes.>> The word was heavy, as heavy as the hammerfall. <<But that is not a bad thing. You need support. True Alors. One mind. One body.>>

She scowled, examining her work critically, before nodding once. The recolor could begin.

<<This is the Way.>>

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

It was easy to miss, and maybe it was because of the nature of the Mando'a language, but the tone sounded to be past tense. Mysha expanded on her clan slightly and her own intentions for the rest of clan Kelborn. There was a kinship in that moment he felt for her. <"Leadership is not easy. Power is for those who are willing to stoop to pick it up."> Words his father had told him and which Kotii now relayed to Mysha with an understanding nod of his helmet. <"I have not heard of an Alor rising to the occasion of Clan Kelborn in ages either. For what its worth I think you you've got what it takes. I bet you could forge more than metal...if you wanted to.">

"Hmm." Kotii gave an audible murmur of considration. His question has been genuine in wanting her input. But she continued before he gave it extensive thought. <"This is the Way."> He repeated her words. The Alor was not a practitioner of the Way of The Mandalore. He knew many children descending from the Death Watch dogma were many. Few of them knew of their origins among the Werda Verda but he doubted they would even care if they knew. Such details were irrelevant these days to many Mandalorians. The Alor of House Solus was well aware that results showed more than anything. That was why he had made his proclamation at the Black Keep.

Kotii was pleased with both the speed and skill at which Mysha worked the armor. The Mandalorian's eyes found their way to the figure of the smith. His crimson eyes blinked and looked away, returning to checking his commlink and datapad for notifications among the relative silence. The Forge was not a quiet place but the badger continued to stare at the work as well as the one that moulded it. Behind hid visor his pale face began to grow a bit flush with the heat and the strong Mandalorian who repaired his second dskin. <"If it's alright with you...I'd like to get a drink with you later.">

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Mysha had plenty of experience with people being curious of her. Her skills as a smith, the lack of clan emblem on visible display, her armor colored the grey of a loss of a loved one. Her full embrace of the Way, and her preference to keep silent as she worked. She couldn't quite help it, she preferred her own company most days, and never expected more than the usual questions her clients threw her way. How could she live in the helmet, was it hard to breathe in, did it get hot while she worked, did she ever take it or her armor off. She was used to the aruetii and their many questions.

However, when others of her kind approached, she was never sure what to expect. Many who were outgoing considered her terse, short replies to be arrogance, or worse, bullishness. But in reality, she was never sure how to address others. The need to fill the silence hung heavy, and for a moment, she wondered if she hurt him with her own lack of idealism. But... she just didn't believe that their people could band together like in the great past. She had seen her people, how broken they were, and just didn't have the ability for optimism.

She could feel his staring as she worked, however, and the frustration made her shoulders knot up as she forced herself to focus. When he spoke up again, she paused.

Slowly, she turned her head towards him, and for a few beats, merely stared at the male. Her mind blanked, and for a few moments, she had entirely forgotten what it was she was actually doing. Was this... thanks for the armor? Or was the male interested in her? And why?

When her mind finally clicked back into place, she blinked, setting the vambrace down to stare at him.

<<Drinks should be fine.>>

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

Kotii waited with hidden anticipation for the Armorer's answer. There was more to life than war, fighting and preparing for the next fight. It was important to never loose sight of why he wanted to bring prosperity to his people. Asking the capable woman out for drinks was certainly up there in terms of 'a good use of free time'. She considered it and for a moment Kotii was convinced she might emphasize a 'no' in some clever Mandalorian fashion like her hammer hitting him upside the head.

Hearing Mysha's reply, Kotii smiled underneath his helmet at the answer. Part of him wondered if she was used to being hit on. She seemed the type to play it cool regardless. <"What's your poison?"> He asked coolly with a tilt of his head. The smile persisted underneath, happy to just be going on a date. A handle of Tihaar sat in the Werda Kom'rk and was unopened which may be a good option. He had a feeling Mysha might not like to drink in a public place.

If his memory served, Kelborns were known for more than making armor. Some of the best Mandalorian spirits Kotii had ever had was made by the clan. Maybe she had some refined tastes. Pulling out a personav and datapad while he waited, Kotii began pulling information on the local area. This time the badger wasn't looking to find Mandalorians but instead looking up restaurants and cantinas. A cultural presence of Mandalorians was known and so getting some decent grub was actually more likely than on other worlds. Maybe they would even have private seating. <"You know the area better than me, Mysha. Any suggestions for a good spot? I've got a tihaar on my ship but..."> He shrugged his broad shoulders at the last option. The Alor would have a few minutes until the Armorer finished

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but Mysha could almost swear the Alor was smiling. Did it really matter that much to him? Mentally shrugging, she once again turned to her work, content to consider that the end of the conversation. When he spoke up again, she had to resist the intense urge to sigh. It was difficult to work and talk at the same time; though she was almost done with one recoloring, there was the other. She set the first one down and beckoned him over to check the fit and coloration of it against the rest of his armor, her own cheeks flushing.

Though, she couldn't explain why she suddenly felt shy. He was just a client, it was surely just drinking in thanks for her work... but somehow, the air hummed with anticipation from his words. <<Tihaar works fine,>> came the simple response. Though she wasn't sure if it is on his ship implied anything... she resisted ducking her head as though to hide her own flush. She wasn't used to flirtations from another Mandalorian; most noticed her for her armor-making skills, little else.

Was this a date? She had to know.

<<Are you asking me out on a date?>> This was spoken in her usual measured calm, but she couldn't deny she was listening for his response as she worked on the second vambrace.

@Darasuum

 

[Kotii Solus]

The badger would keep relatively quiet as the woman worked for the rest of the time. He would get up from his seat to the side and offer his arm to her. Mysha seemed focused on her work with his gauntlets. His unpracticed eye knew they were already improved by the Armorer's skill. When it came time for the other arm, he would offer it as well. Chances were she would notice his cybernetic hand but otherwise the man did not mention it. He did not think it was relevant to the fitting of his armor. Then again, he had bulked up recently and those kind of adjustments would help.

Standing in front of the Armorer, he was a few inches taller and his helmet angled down to where her visor would be. But she was entranced in the vambraces and did not make 'visor contact'. Kotii gave a confident smile from behind his helmet and answered her question without hesitating. <"Yes.">

@Killa Ree

 

[Mysha Kelborn]

Ah.

Now her entire face flushed, and she couldn't blame it on the forge. Tilting her helmet up to face his fully, she clicked the other vambrace in place, then immediately let go. Turning away to turn off the forge and begin cleaning up the space, she mulled over that answer for a moment, eyeing his cybernetic hand from the corner of her eye. She didn't know him enough to ask questions. Her father raised her well enough to let people keep their secrets if they wanted to.

<<I'm still charging you for adjustments and repairs,>> she replied, internally cringing at the brusque way she sounded. <<I can't just give my services freely to every person who asked me out.>> Not that it happened often... if at all, she thought in embarrassed chagrin.

<<But... good to hear it.>>

The last part was spoken quietly, focusing instead on putting away her tools and locking them away, cleaning up shavings and other various pieces until the space was clean. When she finally did turn to face him, the space was practically empty, bar the forge itself. Hands settling on her hips, she looked up at his own visor, and gave a slight, unseen smile.

<<Lead the way, then. I've always been curious how a badger can hold his tihaar.>>

@Darasuum