Chapter Text
Day in, day out, work was dull. Working as a scrapper it was bound to be, but that’s just what you signed up for living on Bracca. Not that most could leave very easily, even if they wanted to, but Prauf considered himself under the belief that one should make the best of what they had. It was the only way not to drown in the monotony of the everyday.
The bosses always said to keep your head down and work hard, but Prauf found that’s not how you survive as a scrapper. Work hard, sure, but keep your head held high while you do it. Keep your wits about you, keep to yourself when you can and be kind when you have to, and don’t fall into the traps of the job and the lifestyle that so many people - too many people - do. It was easy to die early on Bracca.
So Prauf kept one hand discreetly on his pouch of hard-earned credits, and the other non-threatening yet still at the ready at his side as he walked home after a long shift. It was sometimes hard to tell whether the sun’d gone down on Bracca because of the thick clouds and the rain, but Prauf was pretty confident that it had by the point he’d been let go. It was getting harder and harder to see, and the streetlights were dodgy at best. He was walking along the boardwalk pass that was next to one of the smaller rocky mountains in the west. It was the scenic route and took a little longer than Prauf’s usual way home - and definitely longer than the train - but he found it was generally a safer and quieter trip, especially after dark. He was intent on getting home quickly, putting his feet up, relaxing, maybe watching a rerun of something he’s already seen on the holonet, but then something made him pause in his tracks.
He moved to the side as to not block foot traffic, but couldn’t force himself to look away from the small concavity in the rock formation. There was someone in there, someone small. They were sat towards the back of the little alcove, hunched over with their head tucked in their knees. Really, Prauf was surprised he’d spotted them at all. The proper thing to do in this situation was to keep moving, it wasn’t his business in the slightest, but a sort of nagging feeling wouldn’t leave Prauf alone and before he knew it, he was walking right up to the mountain face.
He only hesitated for a moment before climbing into the alcove, the place at least a welcome relief from the torrential downpour even if Prauf had to bend down because of the low ceiling. Still, now that he was closer, he could make out more of the small figure. Prauf couldn’t quite discern the person’s exact species, as the only identifiable feature visible was a few tufts of short, wet, red hair that stuck out beneath the hood they were wearing. Speaking of - they were covered in a large cloak, completely soaked through from the look of it, and were shivering noticeably. And, as Prauf moved closer still, he began to make out the quiet, yet heaving sobs rattling the smaller body. Prauf’s hesitancy only continued to drain, leaving a sharp concern in its place. He knelt by the figure, putting his arms out and attempting to appear non-threatening despite his size.
“Hey there, you ok?”
The figure’s head shot up, and Prauf had to force himself to breathe out. They were human, if Prauf had to guess, and young. Far too young to be on Bracca. Prauf couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a child, if he ever had it would have been before the Empire. Families just weren’t a thing that happened in these parts, and no one in their right - or even wrong - mind would ever subjugate a child to life on Bracca. It was wrong, it didn’t happen. So how was one sitting right in front of him?
Damp hair was plastered to their face, which across it had a splattering of freckles and thick tears still rolling down it. There was a large wound on their jaw that extended from neck to cheek that Prauf could just make out above their collar, it looked healed for the most part but was sure to leave quite the scar. It looked a bit like a burn from a blaster bolt, but Prauf couldn’t be sure. Wet, green eyes stared back at him, looking scared. No, not just scared, downright terrified, petrified, even. They were only locked in stalemate for but a second, before the kid was scampering away as fast as possible. Prauf, regrettably, realized he was backing the poor kid into a corner, and took a few steps back to give them a bit of space.
“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt ya…” He attempted to calm the kid, but his reassurances did nothing to slow their rapid breathing. “What’s your name, kid? What’re you doing he-“
As soon as Prauf had moved back enough that the kid had space to run, they took it without hesitation, not even waiting for Prauf to finish what he’d had to say. They’d darted so fast that Prauf didn’t even have time to fully register the kid was gone before all that was left was the back of a cloak running back into the rain. Prauf frowned, watching for a minute as all the people just walked past - people who paid no mind to the child that had just ran from the alcove and people who, most likely, couldn’t care in the slightest.
Prauf would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He was someone who largely kept to himself, he didn’t really have any friends (then again, there were slim pickings on Bracca) and stood by the fact that one should mind their own business. But something was wrong about that kid, and it wasn’t just their age. Their face was marred and dirtied, and their eyes were haunted in a way that no child’s should be. And their sobs… kark. Those were the kind of sobs Prauf heard from colleagues before they took their own lives, and people who spent their livelihoods away on a gambling habit that they just couldn’t quite kick. It didn’t belong to a kid as young as they looked, and that, perhaps, was what bothered Prauf the most. The sobs of someone completely hopeless.
He climbed out of the alcove, feeling glum in a way that he hadn’t for a while. That kid wouldn’t last long, not on Bracca - might even be dead by morning. When Prauf got home, the first thing he did was pour himself a drink. He toasted to the kid, hoping against his better judgment that they were still around somewhere.