Leia sat alone in the cockpit, desperately trying to get a certain scruffy-looking scoundrel out of her head. And the taste of his lips.
His sarcastic remarks, his constant teasing, his dry sense of humour, and his arrogance annoyed the hell out of her. Yet his lopsided grin, his laugh, his confidence and his color-changing eyes made her heart melt. She was confused; the young princess had never experienced anything like this.
Despite all of her battles with her heart, conscience, and senses, and no matter how many times she tried to deny it, Leia knew one thing for sure: the nerf-herder had already gained a special place in her heart. And he would always be there.
Just another twist, Han thought to himself, trying to tighten a stubborn bolt in the gun turrets. It didn't help very much that the gravity in the turrets was a little less than the rest of the Corellian freighter.
Almost there, he thought, giving it one last twist. "Son of a Sith…" Solo muttered, staring daggers at the blasted bolt. "Chewie!" He shouted.
[What is it now?] The Wookie rumbled.
"Get in here!" Solo yelled impatiently.
Eight feet of brown fur appeared in the turrets seconds later. [Yes?]
Han shoved the wrench into the Wookie's paw, and nodded toward the bolt. "You. Fix. Bolt. Now,"
Chewbacca chuckled. [The mighty Han Solo can't tighten a damn bolt? Ah, Han, I'm never gonna let you live this one down,] He began to fiddle with the bolt.
Instead of saying a snappy remark, Solo stormed out of the small room, letting Chewie win this round. Just you wait, Han thought angrily, one day, Chewie, you'll wake up to find Wynni next to you. You'll enjoy that, won't you, pal?
The smuggler decided to go relax in the cockpit. He was two feet away from the door, when he realized that 'Her Highness' was in there. He stifled a groan. Han hated fighting with her. It stung as he realized she never fought with Luke.
Well Solo, he thought reluctantly, might as well try and fix things. He palmed the entry pad and the door slid open.