Boba shakes his head at Dustin's speculation. "I know it's not impossible. The Kaminoans can make clones look like whatever they want. But why would they make one that's different?" A pause and then he amends: "Another one that's different."

Because Boba's different, too, even if he doesn't look like it. But he'd been made different specifically at the request of his father—and he's sure his father hadn't requested another clone for himself. The question is: had someone else?

"Maybe she's a mistake," Boba mutters, thinking aloud. "But if she's a mistake, the Kaminoans wouldn't have let her get so old."

In some ways, it hardly matters. So what if there's some strange, custom-made clone of his father's somewhere in the city? It's not like they're actually family and even if they were, it wouldn't bring Boba any closer to escaping this place. Yet, Boba can't help but be curious—and, maybe, it's a little easier to focus on this new mystery in front of him rather than the far larger, more overwhelming ones about his presence in this place.

The black gaze of his helmet visor snaps up to look at Dustin.

"Do you know her? Can you tell me where to find her?"