Chapter Text
. * ✧･ﾟ: * ˳· ˖✮˖ ·˳ * :･ﾟ✧ * .
"You–y–you don't wear..." Again he spun his wrist seeking the right word. I refused to save him, especially considering I didn't have any idea what he was trying to say.
"Y–you know support?"
I looked down at the silhouette of my breasts, slightly more visible through the damp fabric than usual.
"Should I?"
The Mandalorian spluttered. "I don't know. Just don't most mammaloids do for support and, you know, modesty?"
"Two thirds of our public beaches were nude, Din."
He straight up groaned in frustration, smacking his hands on his thighs. "Just support then!"
I looked down at my breasts again.
"They have each other," I muttered, reveling now in the Mandalorian's suffering. "I needn't interfere."
"You're about to get spaced, you feral bikini model," he grit, pointing his index finger threateningly in my face.
"I never really wore bikinis," I replied, the picture of nonchalance.
"Well then what did you...?" Mando began, trailing off when he saw my mischievous smirk. "Oh, for fuck's sake!"