XIII. Fashionista

"HIT ME!" Boba jumped into a sparring stance and hummed cheesy fight music.

"What? Why? I mean, not that I haven't dreamed, fantasized, about crushing my fist into your face, hearing the crunch of bone, feeling the swell of your blood rushing to the wound...OK, I've gotta hit you again!" Bill sped at Fett, glaring, but Boba managed to hold him off.

"The point is not to actually hurt me--"

"Awwww!"

"But instead to beat me in a 'fight,' thus proving your superiority to me, and drawing your girlfriend back." He eyed the Twi'lek. "This is going to be hard." Boba circled Bill, his finger on the 'chin' of his helmet. "It's a pity you didn't kill David With a D. Of Course Mill couldn't resist me with a gun. I'm dead sexy!"

Bill shuddered. "Never. Say that. Again."

"Well it's true, I am." He stopped suddenly and snapped his fingers, illumination shining on him. "Of course! You need a gun! Let's see, I'm thinking...matte midnight black--never glossy, it'll destroy that wonderful complexion--with a maroon, no, light tan...no, maroon holster, definitely low-slung, clinging. It'll make your hipline simply scream with divine inspiration!" Boba clasped his hands below his chin. "Your Mill is going to adore you!"

"Oookay, there's something wrong with you..." Bill started to back away as Boba grabbed some scissors and leather and started to advance on him. "No! NOOOOO!" Bill screamed as Boba began to fashion him a holster. Attaching it to the Twi'lek, he stepped back to admire his work.

"Gorgeous! Darling! Beautiful! Ah, I work wonders with holsters! I simply love it!"

Bill stood in the middle of the room, slouching, brow furrowed in anger. He was wearing a maroon gun holster. His lekku were twitching wildly. "The...stylishness, it burns!" He sent a death glare towards Boba. "I hate you."

"I know. Now, all you need is a gun. Let me see..." He disappeared into his room, emerging minutes later, clutching a small black blaster above his head victoriously. "Ah ha! This is your weapon. It is set to stun. On stun it shall remain, or I will kill you. Understood?"

"Well, what's the point of having a gun if you can't kill people with it?" Boba sighed.

"It's called playacting. Momo does it all the time. You 'shoot' me, and Mill falls in love with you again. Very simple. Now we just have to get her in here, which should be no trouble as she's been dropping by regularly every hour." There was a rapping from the door. "What did I tell you? Right on time." Boba crossed the room and opened the door. Mill jumped on him, he heard a war cry from behind, and all went black.

Scrb3331 - Thanks for reviewing, though! And sorry for the cliffies - too lazy to write them out, since I wrote all this stuff, like, four months ago. Bah, I'm so lazy...actually it's just the fact that right now, I ♥ Obidala more than Boba. I know, I know, blasphemy. You really like interacting with him, don't you?

Boba: She tricks me! (puppy whining sounds)

Momo: Oh, buck up! You're starting to sound like Bill!

Boba:-.- (insert assorted swearing here)