bakerstreet | in other words...

Cobb smiled a little at the mental image of Tovy kicking Din hard enough to make him limp. He wasn't going to say anything himself because when he had the time to join those training sessions some of the kids took him down. It was just funny to see Din get a taste of it.

"You want a day off?" he asked eyebrows raised. "Issa and I could take them shooting and let you give that ankle a rest."

It was a necessary skill out here. As soon as a kid was old enough to hold a rifle they would learn to shoot and get good.

He shook his head, though there was obvious amusement in his tone when he answered, "Tomorrow is an off day anyway, it's just bruising, I'll live."

A thoughtful sound as he chewed his next bite, "Asha's the one to look out for. 'Take no quarter' is her personal creed." Pressing any given advantage was something she'd taken to like a second nature, which made Din suspect she'd been in a fight before he'd come along, but he wasn't going to ask, not unless it became necessary.

He was obviously proud of all of them, no matter which one he spoke about at any given time, "Some of them are almost ready for weapons." He shook his head, just once, "Would be, were they foundlings." That was still something that caught him once in a while, that this wasn't his Covert and these were regular people.

The tea would help too if Din would drink it and didn't mind the slightly bitter flavor. It was some of the easiest and most reliable medicine around these parts. Even the town doctor wasn't actually trained in much. The man just knew more than anyone else in town.

"Yeah, she's a spitfire." Cobb always liked the feisty kids. They had the spirit to survive the unforgiving desert. Without that, no one lasted long on Tatooine.

He nodded in agreement with Din assessment. "Yeah, they are. I'll talk with their folks and Issa about when we can set up a little shooting practice. Some of 'em might already know how to shoot."

It depended on the parents, after all.

Din didn't mind the bitterness of the tea, because it did cut through the spiciness of the sauce in a way that was almost jarring, but not in an unpleasant way, not something he could easily describe, not that anyone had asked him to.

"Asha would do well with a blade, I think, and some of them are already leaning towards staff-work." A soft sound, amused and a little chagrined, "And Deera's skill with a bola hasn't been matched yet." It was something he'd apologized for teaching her, and had more or less been forgiven for, especially now that they all had an outlet that kept them from having rock fights.

Blade and staffs. Some parents were going to complain the Mandalorian was turning their kids into a tribe of Tuskens. Din wasn't wrong about their skills. Cobb trusted his assessments. The man was raised a warrior but there were town politics to consider that Din just... didn't care about.

"Let's start with blasters and rifles, get them trained up on those and then we can see if any of them want to go further." He paused a moment as he chewed more snail and bread. "Any of 'em ask to be a Mandalorian?"

He knew now that anyone could. Din's Creed was something one had to choose, not necessarily be born into.

Didn't care about, didn't understand the depth and breadth of, and maybe it was the same thing in some cases, but he did understand -and furthermore respect- enough of it that he wasn't going to teach any of them weapons without discussing it with parents first. Or letting Cobb start the discussion, either way.

He shook his head a little at the question, sipping his tea again before answering, "Not yet." He could tell that some of them would seriously consider it before asking, and others would do so after, once they learned what that entailed. A thoughtful sound followed, adding: "Nothing wrong with starting with blasters, I learned how to use a rifle when it was still longer than I was tall."

A community like Mos Pelgo wasn't a Mandalorian Covert even though they were relatively isolated and on their own. There were different rules, different understandings of the world even if they all knew they had to fight for survival. They'd find a balance between Din's world view and their own.

Cobb did a pretty good job as translator, in his own opinion.

"Could see Deera asking. She thinks the stars of you." And he figured that kid might grow up to make a good one. She had a lot of fight in her but a lot of heart too. "If you can shoot your enemy before you have to punch it, you've got a better shot of survivin' the fight. Also a good skill for hunting."

Which was important for the survival part of things. Until the bantha herd was solidly reestablished they couldn't rely on the animals for meat.

"She probably will." He agreed, "But I don't think she'll be the first, she has to think about it, make sure she's certain with herself before she does." It was something he'd observed about her already, that while some of her choices seemed impulsive or arbitrary, they followed her own internal logic, and if asked why she'd done something, she was always happy to explain.

An almost amused sound of agreement followed, "Take them out while they're far enough away to be a threat, but not close enough to be a danger." And, of course, the hunting, but that was something else again, similar, but ultimately unrelated.

"Well, you want someone like that for a Mandalorian. It asks a lot." Din had explained more of the creed to him, the tenants and what it meant to take it. It was so much more than Cobb had ever heard from the old man in the compound where he grew up.

It was a heavy thing that beskar. Din wore it well though. Deera? Maybe when she was older and wiser, she could pick it up.

"Might want to borrow some of your weapons to teach them if you don't mind. Not everyone out here has a blaster." It was necessary but also expensive to maintain. "If you want to help out, that is. I'm sure you can do something else with your time."

He had begun to rebuild some of his arsenal, not that he'd ever had much of one, not as many as some, but he'd had more than he really needed and only slightly less than that now. Which was why he had no qualms about saying: "I can unpack some after dinner, make sure they're ready to use."

And again the thoughtful sound, considering as he chewed, "Provided nothing changes her, yes, she would do well taking the verd'goten." And if she stayed true to herself and kept up with her training, she was likely to pass with flying colors.

"I'd appreciate that." He hoped Din had a pulse rifle. Those had a kick and it was hard to shoot and reload quickly. It would be a good skill the learn.

"Alright, so what I'm thinking is I get the kids to gather a bunch of rocks. We use some of those rocks to heat that egg." He cocked his head towards the box near his fireplace. "And the rest we set up as shooting targets. Big ones to small ones and help the kids learn to hit them."

That would fill the morning and they'd break for midday when it was too hot to do anything above ground. "Maybe gather them back up in the school to go over safe handling and care in the afternoon."

His head tilted a little, "Shouldn't handling and care come before target practice?" It was possible, even likely, that many of them already knew the basics and a lesson in handling and care would just be something more in-depth than that, but it didn't hurt to make sure.

"I have a few that I can lend to the lesson." He was still rebuilding his full arsenal, and while what he currently had was satisfactory, it wasn't as extensive as it had been on the Razor Crest.

"If they don't know how to at least handle a gun by now their parents probably haven't got one." Cobb said it casually even though that probably wasn't the case anywhere else in the galaxy. "But we'll cover the basics before we hand them the a gun. Not gonna make them shoot without knowing which end to point at the target."

That would be stupid. He hadn't done this as a formalized class before but shown a few people to shoot in his duties as Marshal. Probably wasn't what other Marshals did but Mos Pelgo was it's own thing.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, it's a plan at least."

"It is," He agreed with a nod, "And a good one." He had been mentally going over the few weapons he had that could be loaned to the lesson, "I picked up a couple slug-throwers. Not as useful for a first lesson, but not difficult enough to require expertise."

Just steady fingers and not being afraid of the recoil, which was something he'd had to learn himself, and how to compensate for it without overcompensating, though that went for most firearms.

Cobb chuckled as he sipped his tea. "We mostly have slug throwers here. Getting replacement parts for blasters can be tricky. Much easier to melt down old metal for slugs though."

No one in town was a gunsmith per-say but a handful of people knew how to maintain their weapons and make more ammo for them. Cobb knew his own blaster like the back of his hand.

"I like how fancy you think we are." He glanced towards Din out of the corner of his eye, mindful that he might have his helmet up to eat so he needed to be careful. Tempting though it was to catch a glimpse of the man behind the helmet.

"Ah, pardon me for thinking you weren't a complete backwater." There was amusement there, the statement not at all meant as an actual jab, and he trusted that Cobb would understand it as such.

"In that case they'll work just fine for the lesson." Something he hadn't actually anticipated, but was willing to roll with all the same.

With the angle Din was sitting at the most Cobb was going to see was the corner of his jaw, though that was still more than he'd seen yet, and while Din might be unaware of the look -and it was always best to assume he was aware of that kind of thing- he didn't seem to mind, not turning away further or lowering the helmet completely into place.

"I'm glad you hold us in high esteem and all but we're worse than a backwater. We don't exist." Cobb grinned and contented himself with the little bit of jaw.

He didn't have a real picture in his head of Din but he knew a few things. Human. Brown hair which he had seen sticking out from under the helmet and along his jawline there. Cobb couldn't put together more than that.

Almost didn't want to. The helmet was Din. The armor his soul which was really more intimate than seeing his face in a lot of ways. Cobb could live with the temptation.

The response earned an actual laugh, soft, yes, but undeniably a laugh and one that he didn't try to muffle, "Lot of reasons for not existing, though. It doesn't only mean you wish you were as advanced as a backwater."

It wasn't often that he got to joke like this, really one of those things that had only really started to happen since he'd settled here, even though he hadn't fully done that yet, either.

They wouldn't stay unknown forever. Mos Pelgo was still a myth but rumors of Freetown were getting out there. Red Key would come back and cause trouble. They'd start major trade routes some day. This peace and quiet wouldn't last.

"Maybe if we get a few more vaporators we can be a backwater. Or a stable bantha herd. Maybe a few more Mandalorians." He reached over and pushed Din's shoulder lightly.

Like Mandalorians were a mark of civilization anywhere else in the galaxy.

That statement did get a quiet sound out of him, half-thoughtful, though it was only a moment before he replied: "Probably get that one. They'll come looking for me."

Word would spread, he didn't know how quickly, that Bo-Katan had failed to retrieve the darksaber, regardless of the fact that there had been so few witnesses. Word would get out, it always did, and his people would come looking for him, if he didn't find them first.

"I can leave for a time if it becomes a problem. Don't know that it will." The thoughtful noise again, "Don't know that it won't."

"My personal experience with Mandalorians is that they're pretty harmless if you don't threaten them. Or wear their armor." Cobb tilted his head, thinking it through. His own... affection for Din aside would having more Mandalorians bring more trouble to Freetown?

Hard to say.

"We'll cross that dune when we get there. Right now, I don't see it being a problem if more of your people show up. Besides where they'll sleep. I ain't got that much room." And the town didn't have any sort of inn for them.

"Maybe you've just met the pacifists." He replied, absolutely a joke and evidenced as such by the utterly dry, monotone-even-without-the-vocoder levelness of the statement.

A little shake of his head followed, "They won't stay that long, and if they do they can sleep in whatever ships they came in." He wasn't going to let pilgrims disrupt things here any more than necessary and maybe not even that much if it could be helped, but he especially wasn't going to let any challengers disrupt things here.

But that was also something to worry about later, it would be months at least before word got around, and while he'd already been in Mos Pelgo for a while himself, he didn't think anyone else would find the place so quickly.

Cobb laughed loudly, throwing his head back. Din was no pacifist. He wasn't war-hungry or anything like that but the man could and would fight to protect himself and others.

When he settled down he took a drink but kept the fond smile on his face even though Din's warning was serious.

"Whatever trouble comes I've got your back, partner." Yeah, the mess was complicated but Cobb wasn't going to walk away from Din just because he had some legendary sword and politics coming with him.

Din had long since decided that he liked that laugh, and being able to cause it himself was even better, though if asked he wouldn't have been able to explain why.

He nodded at the answer, however, an acquiescence as much as an actual agreement, mostly because he knew that even if he tried to argue, Cobb would still be there, come what may, "I appreciate it." His head tilted to the side then, just a little, "With this there's only a low chance of being eaten by a dragon."

in other words...

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