Valter kept quiet as he looked around scanning for possible hostile targets finding none he turned his attention back down to the group. He saw two new possible allies in this endeavor as he held his rifle in his hands waiting for his escort to do the talking. It wasn't his place to say anything, nor was he likely going to be asked to talk. People respected that brown armor now of days. The symbol of republic's old roots in rebellion. He wasn't born in that era but he heard the war stories from his older Mandalorian friends. He scanned the new pilot he seemed like the same hot shot pilot that got laid out in Nar Shadda's Pazzak rings. Or the guys the Hutts hired to fuck around with the New Republic Customs Office. Nothing too serious not anything to worry about. He hoped his presence, and his armor would be a signal to any would be trouble makers that any signs of a fight would be trouble. Back on Nal Hutta a group of Rodians backed off when they saw him with an escort of Moka the Hutt's entourage. That jobbed paid well, and not one was stupid to mess with a Mandalorian. The Legends of Boba Fett, and the Clones still were alive in the minds of those who cared to remember. Mandalorians were mostly gone but not completely.