Dinluke Book idk I hate naming things

26

Din admits, Luke is better than he expected. He's been completely even with Din so far, and he's certainly holding his own.

The way he stands, the confidence, and maybe even cockniess that bleeds off him, it makes Din even more in love than he already was. The big, satisfied smile that appears when he successfully hits the target, and the way he has a mischievous glint in his eye as he pats Din on the back.

Din crosses his arms as the younglings cheer around them. "How about we up the ante?" He asks, tilting his head up in challenge. "Seems to be a little too easy."

"Hm," Luke intones. He thinks for a while, and shrugs. "Sure."

Din scoffs. "No fighting words? Afraid that you'll lose?"

This manages a laugh from Luke, who immediately sizes up to Din, playfully shoving him. "Didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone." He replies with a tilt of the head, baring the pale skin of his neck.

Din swallows, suddenly feeling the need to wet his lips.

He clears his throat, purging the inappropriate thought in his head.

Not in front of the children, he thinks to himself.

"We need a moving target," Din mumbles, looking around, trying his best not to look at Luke.

"Right," Luke nods along, stroking his chin.

Din is thinking of a way of incorporating a moving target into the competition, putting a pot on a youngling's head and ask them to run around? No... is that child abuse? Maybe they could find something out in the wild to use as practice?

"Look Din," Luke calls out to him, and when Din turns to face him, he's surprised to see the younglings running off.一

In the distance, he sees a plate moving wildly in the air, as well as most of the younglings that seem to be the culprit of the flying plate. The plate almost seems to be struggling for dear life, flying near uncontrollably in all different directions, with the younglings fighting to move the plate in their desired direction with the force.

The movement of the plate is fast, unpredictable, and Din sees the direction Luke was going with this. This was going to be difficult.

"...This is what you had in mind?" Din questions, tone somehow a mix of awe and disbelief.

Luke flashes one of his bright smiles again. "It works, right?"

Din huffs. "I suppose it'll do. You want to go first?"

"I guess," Luke replies nonchalantly.

He looks at the younglings. He only really gave them two simple orders: One, to keep the plate moving in the air, and two, try to keep the plate moving constantly.

And they were doing, arguably, too much of a good job. Din could see the struggle begin to settle in Luke too, the confidence that was previously shown clearly in his eyes being replaced with intense focus.

The plate seems to have stilled, floating up in air with minimal movement.

Luke takes this opportunity, pulling the trigger to hopefully land a hit.

Unfortunately, the plate that was staying still before suddenly takes a sharp turn, flying out of the way, avoiding Luke's shot.

"Man! Miss," Luke grumbles, and looks back at Din, eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I'll give you another shot," Din says, and he doesn't miss how Luke's eyes seem to brighten at the promise of another try. "I think that was more bad luck than anything."