Groceries
Leia Organa brushed the heel of her hand against her sweaty forehead. Han would be back in a couple of hours, after three weeks in the Outer Rim, and she wanted everything to be perfect.
Of course, the furniture store had waited until the last minute to deliver the new pieces. And naturally, she had to clean it all over again after the men left. At least the bedroom was now completed, at last. The bed looked really bigger there than in the catalogue, but she was sure that Han would not mind. She herself did not mind at all.
She checked in her mind every thing she wanted. The bed, done. Holo-vid, connected. New skimpy sleepwear, under the pillow. Assorted edibles to picnic on the new carpet, ready. Wine, uncorked and breathing. Gizers... With growing worry Leia Organa checked the cooler and the cupboards. There was not even one container of Han's favorite beverage in the apartment.
"Damn!" The Princess less-than-royally swore.
It was too late to ask for a delivery, plus her usual provider did not cater the brand Han favored. She made a mental note about sending a customer's suggestion about that.
All right, she would have to go out and get them herself. In two heartbeats she had pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wrapped her utility belt around her hips. Dropping her brand new credit chip in a pocket, off she went.
)space(
She had been there once with Han. It was a place he felt comfortable with, a Corellian store. Not exactly the most dangerous underlevels, but certainly no posh quarters either. He had gone into the groceries' store while she bought some flowers for their – by then – mostly nude apartment. Grabbing a basket from a pile, she dashed to the beverages section.
Fortunately, they had Han's brand. She dropped two six-packs in the basket and the little green screen blinked twice. Thirty credits. For a moment, she felt ashamed about how much more she spent in her favorite wine than Han in his drinks. All right, since she was here, she could take a few more things, like a few bags of fried tubers and a loaf of Corellian whitebread. Then she spotted a pile of blue-purple fruits, and her mouth watered.
Dragging the heavy basket back to the front of the store, she cursed when she noticed that it was later than she had thought. Han would be back in less than an hour. She tapped her foot impatiently when the old lady before her in the line seemed not able to find her chip in the giant bag she carried and distracted herself inspecting some white tablecloths with some typical Corellian patterns on the edges.
At last it was her turn and she hauled the basket over the counter. The lady behind it ogled the cumulated goods.
"D'ya want a repulsor-box for all that, sweetie? It's only twenty-five credits."
Leia nodded her agreement and the store lady quickly passed all the packets and bags through the reader.
"Two hundred ninety two and thirty five cents," she said.
The Princess surveyed her buy, surprised, but extended her credit chip nevertheless.
"ID, please," the lady said, without even looking at it.
Leia left the chip on the counter and looked through her utility belt. At last she remembered that she had probably left it in the purse she had used that morning when she went to work. "Could you do a retina-scan?"
The lady laughed. "I don't have that kind of equipment! Where do you think you are, the First Galaxy Bank?"
The Alderaanian looked again in the pouches of her belt, just in case she might have something to identify herself. Mini-multitool, a few Raltiirian coins worth less than five credits, excess charges for the blaster, her spare comm, a few buttons from Han's blue shirt – she blushed remembering how they had come to be there – nothing really useful in this situation.
"Do you have a license for that?" The lady asked when the butt of her custom made blaster peaked over the opening of the compartment she was looking into.
"Yes, I do," the Princess answered curtly.
"I doubt you're even old enough to carry that. Look, I don't want problems," she said lowering her voice. "You don't have an ID but you do have... that. Go away and I won't say anything. I know, times are tough..."
Leia Organa blanched at the implication. "My... fiancé is a regular custom here," she stuttered.
"Really?" The lady asked doubtfully, arching a brow. "I know all my regulars. Who might he be?"
"General Solo," Leia muttered, reddening deeply and suddenly taking in her ragged appearance. She was wearing a sweat stained gray t-shirt, brown baggy pants that Luke had left at Han and hers apartment after one of his visits and she had slipped on her old combat boots. Not really princess-like, she thought.
The woman behind the counter was laughing again. "My, girl," she cried. "You certainly have an imagination!" Her voluminous breasts quivered. "You don't look nothing like the Princess! Come here," she asked, leaning over the board. "I could give you a few tips if..."
Leia Organa leaned over the counter too, until she was only a few centimeters from the woman's face. "I. Am. She." She whispered sweetly, a tight smile on her face and her eyes blazing.
"Really, girl, I'll let you keep the beers just for the good laugh..."
"Wait," the Princess said, looking around for something to help her. She spotted suddenly the tablecloths and yanked one from the stand.
"Hey!" The saleswoman protested, but her strange customer was already wrapping herself in it. Then she piled her hair over her head.
"And?" She asked smiling now more naturally, still supporting her hair up with one hand.
The storeowner glanced nervously at the transformed woman before her and took the credit chip that was still on the counter. Leia Organa, it read. Sweet Corellian stars.
)space(
"Sweetheart!" Han greeted Leia when she arrived back to their apartment. Scooping her in her arms, he swirled her around and then kissed her. "Where've you been? I was worried..."
"You won't believe me, flyboy..." She answered with a mysterious smile. But there were more interesting things to do right now, like making him lose a few more buttons.