When in Mon Cala...
Somewhere on Mon Cala
Of all the places, across all the galaxy that spoke all manner of different languages, why did this situation need to be happening here where Princess Leia of Alderaan, master of over two dozen languages and dabbler of even more, couldn't understand or be understood by one single iota?
She had addressed several of the meandering quarren only to participate in the same exchange that included motions of bathing and some version of clean or cleanly. Whenever she tugged at her own clothes they shook their heads fiercely and gently tugged at their own. From what she could gather, they wanted her and Han bathed and in traditional quarren attire before anyone would take them to wherever they were to go to next. Which wouldn't be a problem if this place had one damned curtain or wall or generous niche - anything!
Leia drew in a deep breath trying to relax herself as she walked back towards Han. He seemed to have eaten his fill and was now casually investigating the small benches with their even smaller pieces of material.
When she drew nearer, he picked up the small piece of cloth, holding it up cinched between his fingertips and waggling it around for her inspection.
"What?" she snapped, hating his smug expression and dreading what seemed to inevitably be lying ahead of them.
"Nothing," he said, exuding nonchalance and an infuriating composure. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm beginning to have a good feeling about this."
"I'm sure you are."
She turned to the bench next to Han's and picked up the small piece of cloth. It was a long rectangular shape with a thin piece of material on each upper end that was obviously meant to be tied together. It was definitely a sarong like the other quarrens she had seen wearing. The material itself was soft and lightweight and as Leia ran her hand underneath she saw that it was alarmingly translucent. As if all that wasn't enough, after a few quick double checks around the alcove she found that there were absolutely no other pieces of material anywhere to be found, confirming her suspicions that the upper torso was not considered significantly private by quarren standards.
"Well, fuck," she whispered, looking once again across the open chamber for the guide that had brought them here. Or a hole to fall into, feeling as if either would suffice.
Han placed his hand over his mouth as he turned away, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Leia dropped her head back and stared up at the massive pillars stretching up towards the deep blue sky above. What was she going to do? She could just call it all off right here and now. Sometimes missions failed for one reason or another, it happened. She thought of reporting back to High Command, of course they would understand although thinking of it in that light made failing a mission due to her modesty seem a bit immature and childish.
She looked back over to Han. He had walked away from her and was poking around and looking at the different tables, pools and other paraphernalia. She had become close to him over these past few years. She didn't know exactly what label to put on it but on more than one occasion they had come dangerously close to kissing if someone or something hadn't interrupted them. And she hadn't minded the idea of kissing him; she hadn't minded the idea of his hands carefully studying the very skin and some of the body parts that she was now taking serious offense to possibly exposing to him.
She sighed. It was just skin, she told herself. She could wear the sarong, cover herself with her hands. Han could look the other way. They could make it through this. She could think of worse things. People had died on some of their missions to ensure their success; certainly she could deal with a little frontal nudity.
"Okay," she said, resignedly.
Han spun around. "Great, let's-" And then he stopped, as if just hearing what she said. "Wait, what? We doing this thing?" And when she nodded her head, he held up his piece of fabric and asked, "In this?"
"Now you have a problem with it?" She asked, failing to hide her exasperation. "What happened to unbuttoning your shirt over there and having a good feeling?"
"That was when I was sure you wouldn't go for it."
"Well, you've got yourself in it now," she said, sitting on the bench and beginning to untie her boots.
"Look, uh, wait a minute," he said, walking closer to her.
She looked up at him and he seemed generally nervous, more nervous than she had ever seen him before.
"It's not that I, uh, particularly have a problem with..."
"Nudity?"
"Yeah," he pointed at her, "that. But, if I'm wearing this," he held up the offending piece of cloth, "and you, uh, you're wearing that, then, uh…"
She was slow to follow him at first but then it hit her very quickly. He was worried about hiding any...excitement. She ignored the blush crawling up her neck. "Can't you just think of rotten corpses and unwanted pregnancies?" she asked, quoting something she had heard around the military bases.
He looked at her for a really long time. She had no idea what that look meant, but she ventured that the rotten corpse, unwanted pregnancy thing wasn't as sure-fired as the drill sergeants had indicated. She wasn't entirely naive, but she couldn't pretend to know how difficult it was to control such things. What if it was as unbidden and unbridled as her constant blushes?
Now her mind raced unbidden and unbridled to the mental picture of an excited Han Solo in a sheer gossamer sarong. She stood. Maybe this was too much to deal with for the sake of a mission.
"Okay," she said. Discombobulated by the conversation and related visual, she had to sit back down to tie the shoe that she had just untied. "Let's just head back. We can probably make it through the forest before dark."
"Wait. Wait a minute," Han said, "No, I can do this - we can do this."
She looked up at him. "No really, Han, I'm not upset."
"I know, I know and I'm fine, really. Rotten corpses and unwanted pregnancies," he repeated, looking as discombobulated as she felt. "I had forgotten about that. That'll work, I'm sure."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're sure?"
"Yeah," he said, plopping down on his bench and toeing off his boots.