Irritation

Jabba relished throwing extravagant soirées. Almost every week, hundreds of diverse dancers were summoned to the palace courtyard, accompanied by tons of libations. Soon after, a multitude of guests from rival clans would arrive. It was a costly affair for Jabba, but that’s how Hutt society worked—constantly showcasing their wealth and influence to their fellow Hutts was a necessity. The goal was to make them all envious, perhaps even to suffocate from the incredible generosity and overwhelming wealth of the party’s host. Although no such instances were recorded in history. Along with the guests came their hired mercenaries, left with nothing else to do but gossip to each other’s delight and consume everything brought to the Palace. Boba Fett didn’t appreciate such entertainments, but his position as one of Jabba’s best and beloved court hunters obligated him to be present. Each time, the Hutt summoned his favorites, compelling them to repeatedly recite aloud the list of their finest trophies and the most formidable prey killed at the command of the mighty Jabba. Naturally, Boba considered it the pinnacle of idiocy, but since the Hutt was paying him… In the end, the mercenaries had adapted to such a routine, gathering after their standard warm-ups in a separate wing of the complex. There, amidst scantily clad (sometimes completely nude) women and an endless supply of alcohol, they discussed the latest news in the Galaxy, made bets, and sometimes even negotiated contracts. Occasionally, there would be gunfire, but the troublemakers were usually fed to the palace’s pet rancor, so the desire to cause trouble at social gatherings gradually diminished. And if one really needed to settle matters, everything could be resolved in the city. Entering the vast hall, Boba reflexively scanned it, studying the arriving mercenaries. He was surprised to notice a girl named Shay among the hardened thugs and killers. This annoying girl had recently arrived at Jabba’s palace and quickly secured a position as a medic—patching up unlucky mercenaries, tending to dancers, ensuring that slaves didn’t succumb too quickly to diseases and wounds. A well-trained medic, charismatic, and beautiful in his eyes, but there was something familiar in her movements, actions, and gaze. Boba had spent his entire life in the company of mercenaries and was well aware that such a focused, discerning gaze could not belong to an ordinary medic. Beautiful and feminine in her plain attire, she seemed fragile compared to the seasoned mercenaries, yet her mannerisms betrayed a dangerous, and more importantly, experienced, fighter. This… intrigued him. Shay seemed to sense Fett’s gaze and promptly turned her head towards him. The corner of her lips barely twitched as she glanced over him, then continued her conversation with Bossk. Judging by her gestures, they were discussing knife wounds—Shay was vividly waving her hand to emphasize her points. Fett grimaced and audibly snorted (fortunately, the helmet concealed it all). Demonstratively turning away, he headed towards another group of mercenaries loitering near the bar. Shay irritated him. Not like the mercenaries who snatched lucrative contracts—he simply killed those. Not like the dim-witted clients—Fett would just refuse to work with them, leveraging the reputation of one of the most dangerous mercenaries in the Outer Rim. She just… irritated him. She spawned numerous questions and refused to allow answers. Always keeping a slight distance, maintaining a certain level of aloofness, as if constantly observing Boba from beneath lowered eyelashes. And this, despite the fact that in the month since her arrival at Jabba’s palace, she had managed to befriend all the dancers, regularly having tea and sweets with one new friend after another! Initially, Fett even suspected that Shay might be an agent sent to kill him. However, after she skillfully patched up his leg, shot in a duel, the mercenary’s opinion of the medic shifted slightly. Still, Shay answered any questions evasively, and each of her words seemed to have either a double or triple meaning. Fett, unaccustomed to such an attitude and not particularly skilled in verbal duels (unlike all other kinds of duels), boiled internally at every encounter. Especially when he noticed that Shay behaved entirely differently with other men (and, of course, women!). Silly thoughts crossed his mind: “Why does she let others touch her?! How dare she smile at those idiots?!” — but Fett deliberately suppressed them. And he got annoyed when he observed another injured mercenary being brought into the med bay once again. Most importantly, he didn’t quite understand why it bothered him so much. Certainly, the Resol’nare might treat a man and a woman equally, but she wasn’t a Mandalorian. Moreover, she was a valuable asset, making it impossible to resolve matters according to Mandalorian laws. Jabba would not be pleased if his trusted mercenary shot his own personal medic. As Fett made his way to the bar through the throngs of thoroughly intoxicated pirates, the girl had finished her conversation, heading to the other end of the bar. “What in the name of Hutt does this sober one need?” Fett thought with an indescribable sense of arrogant disdain and mockery. She didn’t drink anything stronger than tea and juice at all! And Boba couldn’t understand how he knew this fact, or that Shay preferred needle pear juice and enjoyed sugared pieces of shuura as sweets. Perhaps his observant nature played a cruel trick, etching these details into his memory. Even the thought of it began to irritate him. But what irritated him even more was that many mercenaries shamelessly drooled over the young and beautiful doctor. Some would purposely catch another blaster shot on every mission just to end up on the operating table of the young beauty. Others brought her bouquets of flowers, while some bragged about their exploits and simply whistled after her. Such hapless admirers annoyed Fett, not only because, according to the Mandalorian Code, such behavior was, at the very least, shameful for a warrior. It’s not worth inflating one’s ego over the persistent attentions of a haughty nurse. Wasn’t it enough that there were Hutt courtesans ready to indulge mercenaries almost for free? Why her? It irritated him! Bossk, appearing as unexpectedly as always, perched on the nearby stool. — F-f-fett. — Bossk, — Boba responded in the same manner. — H-how’s-s-s-s the dealings-s-s with-h-h-h the Emperor? — the lizard hissed. Sticking out his tongue, he disgustingly and deliberately moved it through the air. — Fine, — Fett replied tersely, waving off a few intrigued dancers. — H-h-heard you took down two battalions-s-s-s of s-s-s-stormtroopers-s-s-s, — Bossk grinned. — I’d like to hear the s-s-s-story from the firs-s-s-st mouth, Fett. Many rumors-s-s-s… Fett was about to tell him to go into the dunes, but then he chuckled thoughtfully and nodded his helmet. — A story for a story, Bossk. What did the medic want from you? — Ah, you’re intrigued by her too? — Bossk hissed with a sly tone. — A pec-c-culiar individual, a worthwhile bitch-h-h-h… Wanted to find out s-s-something about Trandos-s-s-shan anatomy. Came to h-h-help… The Trandoshan cut himself off mid-word, tensing in full readiness—out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that with an almost imperceptible motion, Fett had placed his hand on the handle of his inseparable blaster. Usually, this would be followed by a shot, but Boba’s fingers only lightly caressed the polished plastic that had been polished for years. The Mandalorian was looking at the bar in front of him, but Bossk knew perfectly well about the side cameras on his helmet and the number of systems packed into it. — Merely the s-s-s-str-s-structure of the throat. Our s-s-species are equally vulnerable to a s-s-s-slas-s-s-shing blow to the throat. The hand returned to the bar, to the glass that Fett thoughtfully rolled along the polished surface. Bossk smirked. — Jango must’ve talked about women, — the lizard hissed insidiously, — and that a warrior s-s-s-shouldn’t let hormones-s-s-s control him. — It’s not hormones, — grumbled Boba, relaxing a bit. — I don’t like not understanding. And I don’t understand this bitch. — Of cours-s-s-se, everything’s-s-s like that, — the Trandoshan said, bursting into a series of dry, hissing inhales, a lizard’s equivalent of laughter. — Want to argue? — Mandalorian snapped threateningly. — No, — Bossk muttered quietly. — But I knew your f-f-f-father, Fett, and knew you s-s-s-since birth. There’s-s-s-s no us-s-s-se trying to dec-c-c-ceive even me. Human f-f-females are ugly, rarely attrac-c-c-ctive, but this one is good, a worthy s-s-s-specimen of your s-s-s-pecies-s-s-s. — Just what I needed, beauty lectures from a Trandoshan! — Fett retorted. Bossk hissed again, a mixture of a hiss and laughter. — A man s-s-s-spends-s-s a hundred hours-s-s- trying to c-c-conquer the one who didn’t give in. Fett very slowly turned his head towards him, and the Trandoshan somehow quickly realized that if he didn’t shut up right now, Fett wouldn’t stop even at feeding party brawlers to the rancor. — Well, yes-s-s-s, we’re all talking nons-s-s-sens-s-s-se… Tell about the Emper-r-r-rperor! — The lizard retreated and signaled the bartender. — And pour us-s-s-s more! Fett exhaled slowly and finally removed his helmet from his shaved head. The drinks at Jabba’s were good, strong, but not too brain-battering if you knew your limit. The story was short but expressive. Bossk approvingly whistled and boasted about a stolen starship he managed to push on the black market. The evening was gaining momentum, and Fett was momentarily distracted from thoughts of the irritating Shay. But not for long. A few minutes later, Boba’s attention was drawn to the commotion behind the Trandoshan. Once again, the star of the show was Shay, only now she was in the midst of a bunch of utterly drunk Weequay pirates, whom the mercenary had never encountered before. One of the pirates lay on the floor, pinned by the girl’s boot, with his arm twisted behind his back, while the others were just yelling loudly and were just remembering their weapons. She found trouble on her behind, and even that irritated Fett. These drunks hadn’t seen women for weeks, and maybe Shay even deserved whatever the pirates could do to her… But it contradicts his Code… And for some reason, just the thought that someone else dared to touch Shay brought him into such a fury that the previous mild irritation was nothing compared to this anger. With a resigned sigh, Fett downed the remnants of his drink and swiftly put his helmet back on. — Call the guards, just in case, — he said to the unflappable bartender. — I’ll make a bet on you, — Bossk growled, not intending to move. The Twi’lek bartender nodded understandingly, simply pressed a button hidden under the counter, and continued serving customers. Boba, on the other hand, headed towards the commotion. The Weequays surrounded the girl in a half-circle, some even managed to pull out pistols from their holsters (when there’s more alcohol than blood in a being, even this action turns into a whole quest), yelling about how they would do things to her in certain positions and quantities, threatening violence… In response, Shay jerked the arm of the lying pirate, twisting the joint even harder, making him scream in pain, and delivered such a tirade in a mixture of Huttese and Mando’a that Boba could only marvel at her linguistic skills. Yet, she was alone, unarmed, so she wouldn’t be able to stop such a crowd. Approaching, Fett twisted the vocoder of his helmet and drew his blaster, pressing it against the particularly eager pirate’s head with a rather twisted sexual fantasy. — You’re in Jabba’s palace, osik, — boiling Boba pronounced. — Shut your mouth and go on drinking, or your buddies will be thrown out of here along with your boss. Seeing the famous bounty hunter, the Weequays quieted down a bit. But the one with the blaster against his head couldn’t see his opponent. — Listen, you imp spawn… — he shouted with a slurring tongue and tried to turn around for a strike, but the well-trained Mandalorian was a hundred times faster than an ordinary drunk pirate. At the end of the movement, the Weequay awaited a blow directed at his jaw with a armored glove, which sent him flying to the floor next to his friend, pinned by Shay’s shapely leg. — Shut your mouth, I said! — Boba growled. — Do you want these schuttas to become rancor food? Shay, seizing the opportunity that the Weequays were distracted by Boba, deftly pulled a weapon from the holster of the fallen pirate, aiming it at one of his buddies right in the chest. The blaster in her hand didn’t tremble. — Well, what are we waiting for? — She tossed to the pirates with a slightly mocking tone, nodding towards Boba. — Don’t anger Jabba’s beloved Mandalorian! The pirates, it seemed, had sobered up enough, stood looking at each other, and most likely—realizing what they were doing and how lucky they were. Eventually, they picked up their whimpering comrades from the floor, and like beaten, flea-infested currs, quickly disappeared. The security, as always, didn’t appear on time, and unfortunately, the rancor remained hungry. — I could have handled it myself, — the girl examined the trophy blaster, quickly disassembled it with a couple of moves, pulled out the power cell, and threw it under Boba’s feet. — Cheap junk, and rusty at that. — Of course, — Boba turned away. — I just can’t stand ungrateful morons. — Yeah, sure. The sarcasm in her voice triggered such a flare-up of irritation that Fett turned sharply to the girl, barely suppressing the reflex desire to put a few shots in the head of the offender. Given her skills and obvious combat training, his Code allowed dealing with Shay as an equal. In other words, in the language of blasters and beskar. The onlookers noticeably tensed, and again turned towards the anticipated spectacle, and even Bossk almost imperceptibly adjusted his rifle and slightly turned on his stool to have the opportunity to shoot if necessary. — Do you want to say something?! — Fett growled, keeping his hand on his thigh. But Shay’s combat stance had absolutely no effect on her. Unexpectedly, the girl smiled, like a fluffy and affectionate loth-cat, her cheeks rounded, and her eyes turned into two small slits. A step forward… — Thank you, Boba, — her palm lightly touched his beskar chest plate, and the warm whisper sounded… surprisingly sincere for such a hardened bitch. — I appreciate you standing up for me. — You’re irritating, Shay, — responded the Mandalorian, but felt the tone came out surprisingly warm.