Din had been injured on a job—a nasty blaster wound tearing through his arm, rendering it nearly useless. The searing pain had slowed his movements, his armor feeling heavier with every step. Without the comfort and security of the Razor Crest, he found himself without a safe haven, and for the first time in a long while, he needed a place to rest and recover. The usual self-reliance he clung to wouldn’t cut it this time.

Swallowing his pride, Din did something he rarely allowed himself to do—he reached out for help. After scanning through his contacts, he settled on an old friend, one he hadn’t spoken to in years. It took a moment for him to craft the message, knowing that asking for lodging and medical care meant exposing a vulnerability he wasn’t comfortable with. But the pain in his arm, which pulsed in sharp waves with every movement, made it impossible to be stubborn.

The reply came quickly—a quiet acceptance with no questions asked. His friend offered him a place to stay and free health care, knowing better than to pry into the details of how he’d ended up like this. Trust, though rare, still lingered between them.

When he arrived at their location, he knocked on the door with his good arm.