It's funny what runs through your head in dangerous times. There were times when I was convinced I would die, simply because I couldn't think of any way out of the situation. Like the time that bounty hunter almost shot me. Some part of my mind was wondering why Chewie liked using a Mantellian savrip in Dejarik when it was so easily countered by a Kintan strider. But that's beside the point.
Maybe it was because she was the last thing I saw— most likely the last thing I ever would see (and if I'm being honest, that's probably the preferred last vision) — but this one innocent question drifted to the surface of my memories.
"So, what do you think of her, Han?"
If I had been honest with myself, I would have said something along the lines of, 'Quite a bit.' Because I had been thinking about her ever since I first saw her. Not that I'd been trying to, but some things were just noticeable.
The first thing I saw was her. Brown hair coiled into this ridiculously formal hair style on the sides of her head; small, petite features; brown eyes, measuring, calculating, feeling, a myriad of emotions swirling there; slim, slight, definitely not tall, but not what I'd call short— more like just right.
Next, I noticed her strength. I mean, taking command of her own rescue within maybe thirty seconds out of a cell? That takes guts. And she'd also been tortured and forced to watch her home planet get destroyed; yet here she was, fine. Relatively speaking.
Then, she displayed her quick wit. Some rather unwarranted comments about me, my copilot, and my ship (without which she would have been dead, I might add) and a few light quips. Then it developed into a duel between us, both giving as good as we got.
And then to top it all off, there was Bespin. Something came to light on that trip that she and I both had been trying to ignore. Seeing her with Lando made me want to make her mine; one hundred percent, utterly, undeniably mine. It was kinda worth it, all that torture Vader put me through, just because she was waiting for me. As effective as bacta. Bacta for the soul and mind, not the body.
Now, I can't move, can't breathe; how I'm still alive is beyond me. But I can't help thinking about that question.
"What do you think of her, Han?"
A whole lot, Kid. A whole lot.