"Do you think this crazy suit is flammable?"
Leia smiled. "I doubt it. It's bright enough to actually scare fire away." She turned from the bureau mirror to watch her husband standing in front of the full-length mirror. He was making a face at the reflection staring back from the glass. Actually, it was the brilliant sun-orange frock coat and matching dress trousers he was wearing which provoked his distaste. And it was certainly an overpowering outfit...bright, shimmering, made of the finest worsted veium and interwoven with faint gold threads of shimmersilk. The frock coat suffered from a particularly unnatural sheen, and came down to just above his knees. The trousers were more muted in their orangeness, but they did suffer from the ill-thought addition of two red metallic fabric approximations of Corellian bloodstripes stitched on their sides. It was a valiant and polite attempt on the part of the Manarix tailors to make the required custom of wearing their native costume a little bit easier for their guests...but the intended effect really didn't work.
Yet Leia did have to admit that the trousers were nicely tailored. Even in the most garish color, Han still clearly displayed one of his best assets in a finely fitting pair of pants. Nothing could ever detract from the always tempting sight of her husband in something comfortably form-fitting on his bottom half.
Leia let out a sigh. The fact that he was willing to embarrass himself for the sake of diplomatic relations by wearing the traditional presentation costume of Manaree impressed and amused her. So much had changed in Han' s personality in the time since she rescued him from carbonite. Days, months, and now even years had passed, and each moment brought subtle changes that carried him further away from the man she first met in the corridor of a long extinct space station. He had given himself to a higher cause, and kept doing it when he was asked. Even when the situations were more than a little humiliating, such as this present one...he was willing to wear burning orange for the sake of diplomacy. Amazing, and wonderful.
Leia shook her head. They were both willing to sacrifice their mutual dignity all in the name of good relations. She looked down at her own attire: a strapless evening gown with a three-tiered ruffled skirt in the same shade of orange as what her husband was wearing. The sight of them both coming down the grand staircase of the People's Palace might wind up burning out the retinas of every guest at the reception, but it would reinforce their pledge to assist this small planet.
From the other side of the room, Han grunted. "I look like an experiment with a glowfruit gone wrong."
Leia laughed. "You still look wonderful, even in that awful color."
"You're just saying that so I'll be nice to you later tonight." He came over to stand beside her.
She looked up at him, then placed her hand on his cheek. "I don't have to flatter you for that to happen."
He kissed her shoulder. "Damn. I hate when you're right."
"Of course you don't." She took one final glance in the mirror, smoothed the front of her glowing bodice, then turned away from the bureau. "Are you ready to go down there?"
Han adjusted his frock coat. "Not really. But the sooner we get this over with, then the sooner we can come back and get out of these outfits."
Leia reached out and brushed the front of the coat with her fingertips. "Are they really so bad?"
Han took her hand and gently kissed her fingertips. "Terrible."
She smiled. "You're right. Let's go."