Disputes
After they've eaten, Dia and Boba head into town with the eopies, laden with the ship parts they could salvage.
Mos Eisley is a bustling collection of sand-coloured buildings, with ships buzzing around it like bees around a hive. Dia leads the eopies to his friend Peli's small hangar near the edge of town.
"She's a little rude, but she's a great mechanic," Dia chatters as he and Boba tether the eopies by the entrance. "She knows the Jawas, so I'm sure she can help us get the ship back."
Peli is a short, curly-haired teenager with dirt smeared on her nose, who greets them with barely a glance up from her worktable, littered with droid parts.
"Hey, Dia." She's hunched over the droid's head, tweaking something with a wrench. "Haven't seen you in a while. Whaddya need?"
"Nice to see you, Peli." Dia skips over to the table with a smile. "I was hoping you could help my friend with fixing his ship."
"Who's your friend?" Peli pauses in her working to study Boba with a frown. His blue outfit was torn up in the crash, and is stained with dirt and blood. Boba crosses his arms self-consciously.
"His name's Boba. His ship crashed near the moisture farm, and the Jawas got to it before I could," Dia explains, leaning his arms against the desk. "I was hoping you could maybe help us get it back?"
"Hm. What kind of ship?"
Dia looks over his shoulder. "What kind of ship, Boba?"
"A Firespray-31-class patrol and attack craft," Boba recites. "Modified."
Peli closes up the droid's head with a loud clang. "Firespray? Never heard of it."
"It's one of the only ones in the galaxy," Boba explains.
"Hmm." Peli tilts her head, considering, then points at Dia with a wrench. "Fine. I'll talk to the Jawas and see what I can get back – "
"Thank you, Peli!"
" – but I'm not fixing anything without credits, you hear me?"
"Boba's got credits. Don't you, Boba?"
"Really?" Peli scrutinizes Boba, his torn-up, dirty clothes and his crossed arms. "How much, kid?"
Boba frowns. "Get me the parts first."
"Alright, alright." Peli stands up, her chair screeching on the floor. "Let me see what you've got."
After Peli looks through the parts Dia managed to salvage and lays them out half-organized in the hangar, she goes to her office to contact the Jawas.
"You kids stay outta trouble, alright?" She leans down and mutters to Dia, "Keep him away from the hangar for a bit. I get the feeling he'll try to roast the Jawas alive."
Dia smothers a giggle behind his hands, and Peli slams her office door behind her.
Hey, Boba." Dia grabs Boba's arm. "Let's go explore the town!"
Boba frowns. "Why?"
"You're leaving once the ship is repaired, right? Don't you need supplies?"
"I guess so… "
"Great! Let's go!" Dia tugs on Boba's arm, dragging him from the hangar.
_________
The streets of Mos Eisley are busy, loud, and dangerous. Boba keeps a firm hand on his wallet, but Dia seems oblivious to all the danger, or at least unconcerned about it. He weaves through the crowd, pulling Boba along with him, pointing out every shop, cantina, and stall they pass.
"So I'm guessing you need clothes?" Dia asks, leading them to a clothing store. "Do you still want something blue, or do you not really care?"
Boba buys a new blue shirt and a pair of matching pants from the shop, after Dia barters for a lower price, and changes into the new clothes at the store. After hesitating a moment, he stuffs his old clothes into his bag, not ready to throw them out yet.
When they leave the clothing store, Dia hurries over to a stall and stands on his toes to see over the counter.
"Hey, Boba, give me a few credits."
Boba passes some credits into Dia's hand. The stall owner crosses his two sets of arms and asks Dia something in a language Boba thinks might be Bocce.
Dia points to the rack of ponchos and held up a finger. "Wun, bleeze."
The stall owner hands over a dark blue poncho, and Dia places the credits onto the counter.
"Zanki." Dia holds out the folded poncho to Boba with a smile. "Here. Now we can be matching."
"Why would I want to be matching with you?" Boba mutters, taking the poncho. He catches Dia's wounded look and scrambles to correct himself, feeling inexplicably guilty: "Uh… I mean – Whatever, it's fine."
Blushing, he tugs the blue poncho over his head. "There. Happy?"
Dia grins brightly. "Very happy," he agrees.
But his grin vanishes as his eyes slide to something behind Boba.
"Chuba!" he yells, glaring at a Dug who stood nearby. The Dug quickly hides something in his pocket. "
Boba recalls his Huttese lessons. Jango had been teaching him, but they hadn't gotten very far before – Pushing those thoughts roughly from his mind, Boba follows the confrontation as best he can.
"Hi chuba du naga?" the Dug growls. What do you want?
Dia steps past Boba and holds out his hand expectantly. "Mooulee-rah." Money.
Boba glances between the Dug and Dia, and suddenly notices his pocket is lighter. "That kriffing – ! He stole my credits!"
"I'm handling it," Dia hisses. "Just shut up."
"Liar!" the Dug is exclaiming, offended and angry. "I didn't steal anything!"
A few market-goers begin to gather to watch the exchange with interest.
"Who let their slave out here?" one asks, amused, nudging their friend.
"He's gonna get killed," the other replies with a chuckle.
Boba frowns, but can't take his eyes off Dia and the Dug.
"Mooulee-rah," Dia repeats, stepping forward and thrusting out his hand again.
With a snarl, the Dug spits at Dia's feet. "Eh chu ta, shag!"
Well, even Boba knows that wasn't a compliment. The Dug keeps speaking, and with every word Dia's expression darkens.
Dia abruptly lunges forward with a cry of anger, colliding with the Dug and cutting off his sentence.
Almost too fast for Boba to see, the two grapple, throwing curses along with punches. Boba watches Dia curiously, how he targets the Dug's weak points and wrestles away the bag of credits the Dug had stowed in their pocket. His form is sloppy, although that's probably to be expected.
If he had any proper training, he'd be a great fighter, Boba muses. He's surprised by the sudden switch in Dia, from happy and carefree to a spitting ball of fury. What did the Dug say to make him so angry?
A moment later, Dia rolls away and hops to his feet, breathing heavily but clutching the bag of credits.
The Dug struggles to their arms and staggers away, looking over their shoulder at Dia with a death glare.
"
Boba wonders if that'll come back to haunt Dia.
"Here." Dia shoves the bag of credits against Boba's chest, still glaring at the ground.
Boba takes it after a moment, torn between complimenting Dia's fighting and staying distant.
Dia misinterprets his staring, and snaps, "What? D'you want to fight, too?"
Boba frowns. "Why would I fight you?"
It's the wrong thing to say. Dia rounds on Boba with a glare that could rival the suns' intensity.
"What, you think you're too good? You think I could never beat you?" He steps up close to Boba and spits, "Think a slave isn't worth your time?"
What the kriff is this about? Boba wonders incredulously. "Of course I don't think that. I mean, your fighting could use some work – "
"Oh, could it?!" Dia grows even angrier. "Well, then why didn't you help? Huh? Maybe you're just a coward!"
Saying this, he shoves Boba's chest. Boba doesn't know where this anger is coming from, or why Dia's directing it at him, but he will not let anyone call him a coward.
His fist strikes Dia's cheek before he even realizes what he's doing.
A cry goes up from the still-watching crowd as Dia stumbles backwards, pressing a hand to his reddening cheek. He stares at Boba in disbelief, but it quickly morphs back into anger.
With a cry, he throws himself at Boba and knocks him to the ground.
Dust billows up into Boba's eyes and mouth, and he strikes out blindly, shouting in pain and anger as Dia hits his stomach with hammer-like punches.
They continue a frenzied struggle until someone grabs a handful of each of their ponchos and hauls them to their feet, holding them away from each other like two feral tooka-cats.
"Alright, alright! That's enough!" Peli yells. "What's gotten into you two?"
Dia glares at the ground, breathing heavily but not trying to claw out Boba's eyeballs anymore. "Sorry," he mutters.
"You'd better apologize too, kid," she snaps at Boba.
"…Sorry."
"Good." Peli drops them on their feet. "Now let's go back to the hangar." She turned on her heel and stomped away, muttering indistinctly.
Dia wipes blood from his nose, not meeting Boba's eyes. "Sorry. I was just mad. That Dug said… some cruel stuff. Shouldn't have taken it out on you."
Boba also avoids looking at him. "I meant to say you could be a really good fighter with some training," he admits.
Dia looked up in surprise with wide brown eyes. "…Really?"
"You're a good fighter," Boba tells him sincerely.
Dia looks away with a blush. "Thanks."
They follow Peli back to the hangar, where she pauses at the door.
"It took some bartering," she prefaces, holding up her hands, "and they'd already sold some of it, but I did what I could."
She punches the button to open the door, and Boba's jaw nearly drops. It was better than he'd hoped.
"Oh my – Peli, this is nearly the whole ship!" Dia cries in amazement. "I can't believe it!"
"What, you doubted me?" Peli teases, crossing her arms proudly.
Boba crouches by the ship parts to inspect. Most of it is there, and somewhat organized. But it'll take a long time to rebuild it.
"What about repairing it?" Boba asks. "How much do you want?"
Peli tsks. "I'll be honest: you're looking at several thousand credits worth of repairs."
"…I guess that's fair," Boba admits, though it annoys him. Where am I going to get money like that?