Shale had to admire Stennar’s ability to bounce back from a life threatening situation so quickly. Less than hours ago, he had come face to face with a Sith and now he was doing the conga with his hands on some 20 something. The Mandalorian turned to regard Max, “You met Warmaster, no? Can work your charm,” She smiled under the helmet. His jacket was off, the button down perfectly tailored to his muscled torso. Her gaze lingered longer than needed, but thankfully he couldn’t tell either way.
As he described his home planet, she took the proffered whisky. His home sounded similar to her own, and she was surprised by the overlaps. Shale sipped from the whisky, feeling the effects of the alcohol beginning to hit her. When he mentioned baby beskar’gam, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. That was the second time this evening. He was getting good at this.
“You know proper name for armor,” She remarked, genuinely impressed. Very few aruetii called it beskar’gam, “I was born into Vizsla clan,” Shale explained, perhaps more open to sharing since she was a few drinks in, “Did verd’goten and then made my beskar’gam like tradition. My clan.. Does not always keep helmet on anymore. For me just old habit,” She said with a vague shrug, her gaze back on the dancers. A lot of it had been insecurities from going through transition, but a lot of those fears had been unfounded. Outside of some hurtful comments when she was a child, no one fussed about her identity as a woman.
“Sometime I think their lives so easy,” She mused aloud as she gazed at the people laughing and dancing, “Maybe happier,” Shale took another swig of whisky. She was probably not making any sense, but she wasn’t worried about it now. She had just squared off against two Sith, she had earned unwinding a bit.
@Alhon