Chapter Text
The first signal something was off should have been the utter and complete silence. The fauna –mainly birds and mice– had gone absolutely still, and he had found it just odd, not concerning. He should've known better, but this desert was a mystery to him: the tall rocks, the dry wind, the scorching double suns; it was his first time in this dust-ball of a planet, and he was already wishing it was the last.
Despite his ‘rookie’ status he already had a few good bounties under his belt, proud victories that meant he’d bring credits –pride– to his tribe. Though maybe it was because of his rookie status that he had been stupid enough to risk going after such high-profile prey. He would've liked to blame it on the strange terrain that had caught him off-guard, but the truth was he had been feeling arrogant that day. Invincible from a good streak.
All this passed through Din Djarin’s mind as he laid immobile on the ground, while a gaping wound on his side let blood escape his body. He had already tried getting up, had already tried moving. Nothing worked. And he had no one to call for help, no one looking for him.
Vision blurring with tears, –he had thought he'd feel pain during his last moments, but no, all he felt was sadness. And cold, so impossibly cold. The sky was a beautiful shade of pink above him, the rocks a fuzzy and bright orange; there were faint echoes around him and the smell of sand above the stench of metallic blood. They painted a bittersweet image of his end. Vividly he remembered his father's face now, his mother's loving embrace as they hid him and faced their death.
They had been brave, and so he would be too.
With a tired sigh he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, not thinking he'd ever wake up again. If this was his end, then so be it. Mandalorians had a nice afterlife, and he hoped to reach it for he had gone down fighting like any good warrior.
But in his dreams he saw no heaven, he was eyeless and couldn't focus on a single thing, images dancing in his narrowed field of view. He felt like flying, but then sharp and piercing pain brought him back down and with horror he feared he'd been sent to hell instead. There was heat and cold and poking and he cried and lamented as his insides were poured out of his body, a torture that never ceased.
Until it did. Until he was numb again, enveloped by darkness. He began to panic now, afraid, anguished because this couldn't be it, this couldn't be death, because where was his heaven? Where was his beautiful afterlife meeting his loved ones? Was this truly hell? Or was there nothing, just darkness, forever?
His questions were answered by a blue eyed God or Goddess or spirit, a light so bright it almost blinded him, a warmth so kind he felt like crying. Tears welled in his eyes. He tried to plead for forgiveness, for passage, but his voice wasn't working or if it did he couldn't hear it. The eyes and the warmth both drifted away and he wanted to beg if it was necessary for them to return, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was crying when darkness enveloped him again.
Then he woke up.
Chest constricted, sick to his stomach, bile up his throat. His eyes were as dry as his mouth but when he blinked away the fog he realized he was in a different place now, though not where that was. Blue eyes found him again, and he considered for a moment whether they belonged to a God, a Demon or something in between –and whether they meant trouble or safety. ‘Please’, he wanted to say, but no sound came out of his mouth, if he even had a mouth anymore.
“Hey, you awake?” a voice too loud for his overwhelmed ears said.
Din could say nothing in reply. Suddenly the numbness he felt gave way to impossible softness and warmth and he realized yes, he still had a face for gentle hands were cradling it.
“Blink if you can hear me.”
And he did, elated to discover he could do it at all.
“Oh, thank the stars.” A soft exhale hit his face then, and the blue eyes moved back to reveal the face of no Demon nor God but of a man instead. “How do you feel? No, wait, shoot, you can't answer that. Okay, um… let-let me think, uh…”
Din took a deep breath and managed a bleak “please”, though what he was asking for he wasn't sure.
“I– okay. Wait. Just– hold on.” And the man frowned and left his vision.
Panicking again, Din tried to grab him so he wouldn't go, but his arm was too weak to move; yet this helped cement the idea that he had a body, and slowly, groggily, he began to wonder if he was dead at all.
“Where,” he croaked dryly.
“Take it easy,” the voice replied softly, the eyes reappearing, “you lost a lotta blood. We're in a cave, I did what I could to patch you up, but... Hey, at least you're awake!”
It was too loud, too fast, words echoing and bouncing off the walls and hitting his eardrums with force before he could even understand what they were saying –but the confirmation that he was alive filled him with so much relief that he thought he'd pass out again.
“What,” he muttered next. He tried moving to see the man better but that alone made all his nerves flare up on his side, hitting him with a wave of pain and nausea.
“Don't move, you'll make it worse! I just told you, you lost a shitton of blood, I've no idea how you survived that,” was the reply he received. Din grimaced at that, wincing a little. “Um, but you made it! So, uh, congrats... Maybe you should get some rest first? We'll talk once you're feeling better.”
Dragging his eyes as far as he could, Din focused on the man's face; it was hard to see any features besides the piercing blue stare.
Lastly he asked: “Who.”
“Oh! Right, sorry. Yeah. I'm Luke,” the man said, and his face split into a big blurry grin. “Nice to meet you, I guess. Now rest, I'll keep watch over you.”
And Din did, mostly because the conversation had drained all his energy, but also because he had been close to dying and had come back only because of this Luke; if he had wanted him dead, then he would've been dead. He had no choice but to trust him for now.
As soon as he closed his eyes he was a goner.
When he awoke again, so did some of his faculties. Moving still hurt like hell, but he could now think beyond his survival instincts and analyse his own situation. The first thing he did was look around; he was in a cave, laying on a bedroll covered by a blanket, and had something propping his head up as a make-shift pillow.
With heaved breaths he tilted his head and saw bloody rags all over the ground, medical supplies scattered across the floor beside them. There was also a dark red trail leading from where he was to the entrance of the cave, gruesome and gritty dragging marks over the white sand that showed the state he had been in before the patchwork.
He sighed. Leaning back down he stared at the ceiling. There was light coming from between cracks in the ceiling, so bright and warm it reminded him of sunlight. It bathed the cave in a sweet glow, bouncing off the walls, and he thought he'd never seen something so colorful before. The wind moved slowly too, carrying a faint whistle, and belatedly his mind supplied that he had to be on Tatooine still, maybe inside the same canyon he had been investigating before the attack.
Then a thought hit him, so sudden and so horrifying he yelped and then winced in pain.
Vivid. The world was too vivid. It never was this colorful, never smelled this clearly, never was this loud. With all the strength he could muster he brought a trembling hand and found his biggest fear come true: his helmet was gone.
Panic took over, breath shortening, fear mixing with pain from the shivers raking his body. There was no pressure on his chest either –his chestplate, his heart was gone as well. He forced himself up on his elbows and looked around dazedly, searching: a bit to the side and out of his reach was his pistol and satchel, the contents emptied on the ground. His belt and knives, his detonators and tools, hell even his pauldron was there, but no more of his armor. No beskar glinted under the sunlight, no T-visor stared back.
A strangled noise left his throat, a sob of sorts, as his vision blurred with tears. Gone. His helmet was gone, he was an apostate. A disgrace. Dar’manda.
Might as well have died; he wished he had.
Footsteps approached him and he got on high alert, groaning as he tried to crawl towards his pistol yet only moving but an inch. Through the light came a figure from dream-like memories –his savior, or perhaps his assailant.
“Hey, you're awake again!” the man said cheerfully, a wide grin that quickly melted into worry as he came to kneel beside him. “Woah, hey, don't move, you're hurt!”
Din could only raggedly breathe in and out, trying to speak but only croaking something unintelligible though a dry and constricted throat.
“C’mon. Lay down or you'll open your wounds again. I'm no doctor, you gotta help me out here.”
Fingers grabbed his shoulders gently and pulled him back down on the bed, and he wanted to fight it but he had no strength left.
“Helmet,” he slurred, though it didn't sound any close to the actual word.
“I'm gonna help you, just stay put,” the man said softly, “you're safe here, I promise.”
Sighing long and tiredly, Din gave up the fight for now and did as was told, trying to relax through the pain, the panic and the grief. Vaguely he saw the other man moving beside him but he was too tired to care; he did take note of him when he moved the blanket, uncovering his left side, and then flinched when he felt pressure on the throbbing spot by his flank.
“Sorry, I’ll be quick,” the man murmured gently.
Bacta filled the air, the stench of blood and of something burned, and Din squirmed and looked down in time to see as bacta patches were being lifted off his skin to reveal a large black wound oozing blood.
“Kriff,” the man whispered, moving quickly. He tossed the dirty patches aside and used more rags to clean the blood away, spraying bacta on the wound; then he gave Din a shot of something that made him yelp and finally placed new patches on the charred flesh. Lastly he dressed the wound with bandages, sighing. “All done, I think.”
Din hummed in thanks, staring at him. He seemed young, and though he had claimed to not be a doctor he had taken care of the wound with practiced ease; Din himself would’ve probably done it the same way, had he been able to move his hands. And whatever that shot had been most certainly carried strong painkillers for he now felt the pain receding.
“Who...?” His throat was still dry, tongue like sandpaper, and talking took a toll on him, but he needed to know.
“Oh. I’m Luke,” the man grinned brightly. “What’s your name?”
The word rang a bell, much like a déjà Vu though he wasn't quite sure. Maybe from a dream. And the man was probably trustworthy by now, considering he most likely owed him his life, yet the habit was impossible to shake as lied in his reply.
“Mando,” he rasped, and with grief he realized that no, he wasn’t, not anymore and never again unless he was redeemed.
But he stuck with the name anyway.
“Great! Nice to meet you, Mando. Listen, uh, I did my best to patch you up, but you’re gonna have to stay here for some time before you can move again.” Luke offered him a sympathetic smile, added, “but hey, at least you survived! You're tough as krayt bones.”
Din blinked slowly, sighing. Now that the painkillers were doing their job he felt bone-tired and thirsty, not tough at all. But he didn’t say it. Instead he slurred as coherently as he could, “what happened?”
The man stared at him for a moment, searching for something in a bag and then bringing a canteen to Din’s lips, helping him drink in short sips. All Din wanted was to gulp down the entire thing, and he brought a trembling hand to desperately tilt the canteen up, making a mess, but Luke simply cleaned it up without a word while Din felt his face setting on fire from the humiliation of his weakness.
“So. I found you about three or so days ago,” the man started. “I was out riding my speeder and whatnot when I heard some blaster shots and went to investigate. Then I saw you lying there on the ground. I... admit I thought you were dead, ‘cause there was all this blood and all, but you were breathing! So I brought you here.” He grinned brightly at that, adding, “you woke up briefly yesterday, though maybe you don’t remember, you were pretty out of it. But you seem better today, so that’s great!”
Taking it all in, Din could only sigh. He remembered the fight, and the gang whose leader he was after, the high-payment bounty on a strange world he had stupidly thought he’d be able to collect. He had been a fool, and was now paying for it.
“Then I owe you my life,” he said sagely, bitterly. “Thank you.”
Interestingly enough, Luke’s cheeks went pink, a silly smile on his face as he laughed nervously. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, shrugging, brushing it off with a hand. “I wasn't gonna leave you out there to die, so…”
Thinking back on the many shady characters he’d had to work with in the past year, Din hummed in doubt. All of them would’ve let him die instead. Hardly anyone would’ve rescued a stranger like this, at least not without receiving a huge reward in exchange.
A beat of awkward silence passed before Luke spoke again. “Are you hungry? You should eat if you feel up for it. I brought you some of my aunt’s soup.” Then he procured a container from his bag, smiling. “It should make you feel better, I hope.”
“Thank you.” Accepting it, the container warmed his hands even through his gloves; Din was surprised by his generosity yet again. Pain mostly subdued, he felt famished.
Opening it was hard; he had little to no strength left and he struggled with the lid with embarrassment until the other man took pity on him and helped out. It smelled heavenly, the aroma reaching his nose and making his mouth water, his stomach grumbling loudly between them.
“Do you need me to…? I mean, I don’t mind if you…” Luke hesitated, spoon in hand.
Din felt his face warm up again, ashamed of his state, and quickly shook his head and took the spoon, mumbling, “it’s fine. I can do it.”
His pride would never let a stranger spoon-feed him, no matter how battered he was. Besides, Luke had yet to ask for anything in return for all his help and it was starting to make him a little nervous; no one was this nice for free.
“Well then,” Luke said with a small smile. “I should head back now, if my uncle realizes I sneaked out again I’ll get the scolding of my life. You gonna be okay out here on your own? You shouldn't move too much.”
“I’ll be fine,” Din muttered awkwardly, maybe a little too defensively.
“Alright. I’ll still drop by later to check on you again, Mando. But um, you should be safe here, just stay inside and don't pull on your wounds. Don't want to come back and find you bleeding again...”
“I'll be fine," Din insisted, and because it felt a bit rude considering he had saved his life and all, he added, "and thank you.”
“No problem. See you around,” and with a wave and a dashing smile he was gone, an engine rumbling alive outside as he most likely drove away.
Finally alone Din dug in, slowly and carefully tasting it first, then desperately shoving spoonful after spoonful of the spicy and very-hot soup that set his mouth on fire but was too tasty to put down. Only once he was scraping the bottom of the container for the last bits did he finally let himself breathe out in relief. He indeed felt better, even if his tongue tingled from the burn and the spice, slightly sick though he forced the food to stay past his throat.
His belongings were still sprawled on the floor and too far from his reach. At least Luke had left his canteen nearby and he greedily gulped some more water, uncaring if he made a mess this time. He wasn’t sure why the other had helped him, or where exactly he was in the desert, and belatedly he realized he should’ve asked these things earlier.
He should’ve also asked about his helmet, but he was still feeling too ashamed to even think about the topic. He knew he should try to get up, grab his things and– limp, at the very least, back to his ship to try and sort things out on his own, but the wind traveling through the rocks outside made a lulling sound, and he was so tired from the simple task of eating that he couldn’t bring himself to move further than to drop the container on the ground.
Closing his eyes to blink slowly, the next time he opened them he found himself submerged in artificial light. The cave was now only faintly lit by a warm glow coming from the ground, and he followed the source to find a lamp beside him, warming him up as it illuminated the small place. There was also soft music coming from a radio, an even softer voice humming along to a tune that reminded him of the dirty cantina he had visited on his first day.
Din tilted his head minutely to the side to find Luke back in the cave with him, kneeling on the ground and shifting through his things, shamelessly snooping inside his satchel. Pretending to be asleep, Din took a moment to fully stare and analyse him. He was warmly illuminated by the lamp, giving him a good view of one side of his face. And maybe it was the painkillers, for despite the fact that he was rather thin he was still attractive, all soft features and strong chin, hair golden like the sand dunes of this damned desert. He wore a dirty and worn poncho above his clothes, the sand grains coating it shining under the light, and Din had to wonder what it was like to live on such a horrible planet –he'd only been here for a few days and already hated it.
Luke hummed low and picked something from the ground: a thermal detonator. With narrowed eyes he tilted the metallic sphere towards one side, then the other, inspecting curiously, thumb going dangerously close to the activation button.
“Don’t,” Din croaked from his spot.
The sound made the man jump, scrambling to catch the grenade trying to slip from his grasp, and thank the stars the safety pin was still on otherwise they probably would've been blown to pieces. His bright eyes glinted under the light, giving him an uncanny deer-in-the-headlights look as he scanned his entire frame without a drop of shame. He carefully placed the detonator back inside the satchel and Din sighed, relieved.
“Sorry. Wasn't trying to steal your stuff or anything,” Luke mumbled, drawing closer. “How're you feeling?”
Shrugging one shoulder, Din made a noncommittal sound. He realized now the place was cleaner; gone were the bloody rags as were the remains of the soup, and the medical supplies had been organized somewhat against the wall.
With a groan he used his elbows to support himself and lift his upper body up, hissing when the movement made his wound complain. As he dragged himself back to lay against the wall, he felt a ginger touch helping him move; it was Luke of course, rather close and very warm. Once he was comfortable Din sighed, and the man let go.
“I brought you some more food if you want it,” he commented with a small smile.
“Thanks. The soup was great, by the way,” Din replied honestly, because it felt like the right thing to say given this was his savior and all that.
Luke's face split in two in a huge, beautiful grin as he excitedly said, “that's great! I'm glad,” sitting down beside him. “My aunt made it. I’d let her know you liked it but, well, I’m not supposed to be here. But I’m happy you liked it. You sure look better, how's the wound? Too much pain?”
Din just stared, at a loss for words. It was clear helping him was against his family rules yet here he was risking it, and– stars, he knew absolutely nothing about him. Not even his real name. How could someone offer their trust, their kindness so openly to a literal stranger?
“I’m sorry,” Din murmured, suddenly feeling guilty, “I must be causing you a lot of trouble.”
"What?" Luke frowned at that, a puzzled look on his face before understanding arrived and he smiled reassuringly. “Oh! Not at all! Don’t worry about it. Nothing ever happens out here, so,” he shrugged, “you’re the most interesting thing that's happened to me all year. I’ve never met anyone like you before, Mando.”
Despite himself Din blushed, squirming under the intense gaze and the sweet words, feeling absolutely naked without his helmet.
“Uh, okay,” he replied awkwardly, looking away.
“It’s just–” the man nervously bit his lower lip, thinking for a beat, then, “you're not from around here, are you?”
Guessing lying would do him no favors, Din shook his head.
“Figures,” the man replied easily, and he was smirking now, an amused eyebrow raised as he added, “everybody knows the Wastes are Sand people territory.”
Din huffed, grimacing. Back at the cantina he had also been warned about the Jundland Wastes, but Din had had no choice but to go anyway; it was the only lead he had.
“Is that where we are?” he asked instead, going over the mental list of questions he had for the man.
“Sort of. We’re right at the southern edge. They don’t venture this far so we’re safe,” he replied, and then smiled sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. “If I'd brought you to my farm my uncle would’ve killed me. He hates bounty hunters, you know?”
The man –a farmer, most likely– leveled him with a strange look and Din swallowed, carefully asking, “who says I’m a bounty hunter?”
“I know your type,” Luke replied gravely. He was impossibly serious.
Suddenly nervous, Din twitched and eyed his blaster, still worryingly out of his reach. Just who exactly was this man? Was this the moment when the other shoe dropped and he revealed the hidden reason behind helping him? Was he toying with him? Was Din truly so unlucky that he got rescued by a damn lunatic?
But Luke just broke into cheerful laughter, a sweet sound that bounced against the cave’s walls, hitting him with an endearing lopsided smirk that screamed innocence and safety.
“I’m just messing with you, man!” he said through giggles, a hand reaching over to Din's satchel to procure a bounty puck. “I found this with your stuff.”
“Ah,” Din said flatly, though he was truly relieved. And slightly pissed off.
“Yeah. So, who’s this ugly fella?” Luke started, turning the bounty puck on and watching the blue holo-face spin slowly.
Din hesitated for a moment between truth or lie, but eventually settled for the former. Though looks could –and often were– deceiving, the man didn't necessarily seem dangerous and he had also mentioned a farm, which meant he was a local. If the gang had taken his helmet, and he was quite certain they had, then he needed to face them again. Luke could have useful information, simple as that.
“My target,” he finally admitted. “The leader of a criminal gang hiding out here. Apparently they stole from the Hutts and then ran, so now there's big money on their head.”
Luke's face sobered, oddly serious again, and this time it didn't look like a joke. “You work for the Hutts?”
“Not if I can help it,” Din replied honestly, sighing, “but times are rough.”
“Oh… I get that. It's all my uncle talks about, really,” the other said with a grimace. “How things have gone terrible since the Empire took over, how it's even worse out here.”
“It's true,” Din murmured bitterly.
Not just out here but everywhere, he mused but didn't say, thinking of his people –who he had failed, not only by losing his bounty but by breaking his Creed.
“But it can't be terrible everywhere though, right? I mean, you've been to other planets, right? It's gotta be nice in some other place, we're just out here in the middle of nowhere… it's gotta be better in, like, the mid-rim or the core worlds, or… right?”
Din blinked, opting to shrug instead. “I don't know. It's pretty shitty all around, to be honest.”
And Luke's face fell, absolutely crushed and crestfallen, looking as miserable as Din felt most days while working. It didn't feel right, didn't feel fair to snuff such a bright light because of his sour mood, so he cleared his throat and spoke again.
“But, uh, what do I know? I mostly mingle with shitty people in shitty places, so... Maybe you're right. Maybe I just haven't been lucky enough to visit a nice planet.”
The other man smiled softly at that, a look on his face that said he knew Din was lying to make him feel better, yet all the more grateful because of it.
“It's a big galaxy,” Luke said firmly, “I refuse to believe it's like this everywhere.”
Din hummed and commented nothing about it –but deep down he desperately wanted to believe that too. It’d be easier to live that way.
Between them the bounty's holo-picture was still on, and Din gestured towards it and asked, “Did you see them by any chance?”
“I don't think so, but what you said about the gang sounds familiar. Maybe..." He hummed in thought, shrugging. "Maybe my uncle said something about it? I usually don't pay much attention to that stuff, he's always complaining about something new, but I can ask him tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Din murmured. His next question was easier for he already knew the answer. “Did you bring me here?”
Luke smiled at that, chin up proudly as he said “yep,” playfully popping the ‘p’. “It was kinda hard to get you on and off my speeder, and you left blood all over it because I'm a nerd-herder that didn't think to cover the seat beforehand. You're heavier than you look, you know.”
“Uh… sorry,” he replied awkwardly.
“It's fine. I managed to clean most of it off and what I couldn't get off I covered it with grease and oil. Better to get yelled at for leaving black stains than red ones, heh.”
“Hydrogen peroxide,” Din commented. Under the confused raised eyebrow he received he elaborated: “uh, it's an antiseptic. It gets blood off stuff.”
“Do I wanna know how you know that?” the other joked with a smirk.
“Let's just say these aren't the first clothes that get ruined,” he replied easily. “It comes with the job.”
“I bet," Luke laughed lightly at that, smiling, "but I kinda thought you bounty hunters were smarter. If you'd just asked around, anyone would've told you not to mess with the Wastes.”
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes Din said, “I had no choice, it's where the bounty’s hiding. Or was. And why were you there if it’s so dangerous?”
The other man hit him with a lopsided, shit-eating grin at that, a rather attractive expression if Din was being honest, though he was probably just still a little out of it because of his wounds and nearly dying and all that… Probably.
“There’s not much to do out here,” Luke shrugged, dodging the question, “but luckily I was around and found you before the vultures or rats did.”
“Fair,” Din replied.
All things considered he was very glad he didn’t end up being the desert’s lunch or torture toy; a quick death would've been nicer, but this second chance meant he could figure a way to redeem himself. It was a sign. At least he liked to think of it that way.
A beat of silence passed, and finally he mustered the courage to ask his biggest question: “when you found me, was I wearing a helmet?”
“Hmm, like a pilot's helmet?” the other asked, “no, you didn't have one. Why?”
“No, a different helmet. It’s made of a special metal, black visor on the front in the shape of a T," and he gestured over his own face as if to draw the way it looked. "Maybe... Maybe it fell on the ground, around the rocks or something?”
While Luke thought Din held his breath, hoping beyond hope, yet that was quickly shattered when the man shook his head, offering him a sympathetic smile.
“No, sorry. I would've picked it up if I'd seen it, it sounds really cool...” he replied gently.
Dejected, Din sighed and forced frustrated tears out of his eyes; he had to remain strong. He'd figure it out one way or another. He had to.
“Then they probably took it when they left me for dead. My chestplate is also missing.”
“Kriff, they took your armor too? As if stabbing you wasn't bad enough...” The man furrowed his brows in anger, lips pursed into a tight line, muttering, “bunch of assholes. That just sucks, man, I'm so sorry.”
“Yeah…”
Din was a little moved by his concern –he didn't even know what it really meant to him! Truly, Luke had claimed Din was the interesting one, but it was the other way around; in all his travels he'd never met anyone quite like him. Here was a farmer who lived in what had to be one of the harshest environments, with days hot enough to burn the skin off the weak and nights cold enough to make you forget it even had two suns at all; a place full of scum and villainy, controlled by one of the cruelest criminal cartels in the galaxy. And yet the course sands hadn't been able to erode his kindness or generosity. His heart remained untouched by the evil that lurked on the very planet he called home.
It was like a mouthful of fresh air. He hadn't realized it, but after spending so much time with criminals and other hunters he had almost forgotten there were still some actually decent people out there.
“Anyways,” Luke said then, interrupting his musings. He was looking away, blushing darkly, and had Din been staring at him the whole time? “I should probably head back now... Um, I brought you some more water and here's more soup,” he gestured to a container and a canteen on the ground, “the lamp should keep you warm tonight, but...” and at this he took off his poncho and awkwardly helped Din put it on. “Just in case. It gets really cold at night.”
He was far too close; his poncho was warm from his body heat and smelled faintly of grease, oil and sand, and now his hands were arranging the blanket over Din's body, a faint and lingering warmth that made his limbs tingle wherever he touched.
Then he completely withdrew, hastily standing up.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said, “and bring you more food and meds. I suggest not going back to the Wastes again, though,” he added with a pointed look, smirking.
Din nodded once, rolling his eyes with amusement. “Noted.”
After charmingly saluting Luke left the cave, and an engine roared outside, the loud sound going further as he drove away.
There were things still left to figure out, but for now Din resigned to his current state and went with it, eating the soup and then laying down to sleep.
All things considered, he could've ended up much, much worse.