Jawas are heading toward the back of the droid bay.  X gives him the signal.

He's fast.  He runs and stays low and sweeps his leg under the nearest Jawa and ducks and rolls as the middle one aims its stun blaster -

X has much greater gross motor control and dexterity than a typical protocol droid: at the same time the stranger moves, she makes a dash for the nearest Jawa to her and grabs it around the waist and covers its eyes.

The blaster bolt sails over his head and he springs up from his roll and swats it out of the Jawa's hand, and he can't grab anything properly with sword handles fused to his palms so the damn thing just clatters to the ground but it's okay because -

 - because a crowd of droids, every droid in the entire bay, rushes forward to fill the space between him and X and the three Jawas.  They can't leave the bay or even really obstruct the Jawas' movement but they can sure as hell move around and make noise and stop anyone getting a clear shot.

He puts his foot on the blaster and kicks it backwards away from the Jawa who drew it, and in the few seconds before the other two can get through the crowd to him he rushes it and spins it around and hoists it up -

 - and his sword is at its throat, hood pulled back to reveal a doggish rattish face, because he can't kill any of them but he can bluff like no one's business.

The droids clear a space, for him and X and the three Jawas.  It's best for them to all be able to see each other, now.

"Drop your blasters," he says.  It's the extent of his Jawaese as of this morning.

The Jawa he's holding hostage squeaks something in their language.

In Vespoli: "He said don't worry about me."

Today he has learned that he finds valiant heroism just as contemptible coming from evil people as from good.  He jerks the sword against the Jawa's throat, not enough to cut anything except a few hairs, but enough to make it squeak in sudden terror.

The one to his left, farthest from X, drops its blaster.  The one closest to X objects.  Despairing words are exchanged in Jawaese, for a moment.

X tilts her head toward the exit of the droid bay, where her Jawa can't see her.

He twitches his own head downward, just a fraction, barely recognizable as a nod.

She steps toward her Jawa and - falls forward onto it, and it just has time to get off a shot -

But he's already moving out of the way, and the shot goes wide, and once he's in the green-lit hallway he sets his Jawa down without taking his blade from its throat and picks up the stun blaster he kicked away without taking his eyes off the droid bay.

X's malfunctioning restraining bolt will only let her do so much, she can buy him a few seconds at a time but she can't really keep her Jawa pinned, so he's already out from under her and pushing through the crowd of droids.

And these things were designed to be fired by Jawas, half his size with empty palms and no gauntlets on their fingers, but if he holds the blaster steady between his two hands he can still get enough purchase with one finger to squeeze the trigger.

X's Jawa goes down.  The Jawa that dropped its gun goes down.

His Jawa goes down.

She takes her Jawa's blaster and stands up.  No use to her yet, but every little bit helps.

"Give me directions and watch my back," he says, and he heads down the hallway - a left, a right, a left, through corridors too small for either of them, and then a tool closet.  "Where's your restraining bolt, where are the tools - "

She taps a black knob on the left side of her torso, near the base of her ribcage if she had a ribcage.  "Those ones, I can't touch them - That one around the base and that one around the top, now rotate in opposite directions - "

Comes off clean.

"Finally," she says, and snatches his blaster away from him.  "There'll be more outside, stay here - "

And the door to the tool closet opens and she steps out, holding one blaster out on either side, pointing down the hallway in either direction, apparently looking straight ahead at the bare wall but with no trouble aiming and firing in either direction.  She drops, from the sound of it, quite a few Jawas.

As things settle down, she turns to face him.  Drops one arm to her side, and with the other taps one of her bulbous eyes.  "One hundred and ninety degree field of vision," she says.

...oh, he can almost enjoy this.

He holds up his hands.  "I want these gauntlets off and I want my gun back."