Chapter Five

In the dark restaurant, Han took a large gulp of his whiskey, his third double-shot in far too short amount of time. Then he glanced over at the two giggling females, one human and one Chiss, who had boldly invited themselves to sit with Han without an invitation and now pressed themselves very close on either side. It was rather off-putting, since Han had never met a giggling Chiss before, but both ladies seemed determined to keep him company. He wished he could recall what they said their names were... Winnie? Minnie? The Chiss's name was Cydumm, he thought. It didn't seem to matter at the moment since right now their attention was focused on a small stage at the back of the restaurant, where various beings had attempted to sing - karaoke style - various tunes in an attempt to win a grand prize of five hundred credits.

Mostly the singers' attempts were, at least to Han's ears, horrible, and not one of them deserved a cash prize. In fact, Han thought through his alcoholic haze, the restaurant owner should pay its patrons money for having to listen to this drek.

The human female suddenly turned her attention back to Han. "Evin?" When he didn't respond, she shouted louder, assuming he hadn't heard her over the loud music rather than the truth, which was he'd temporarily forgotten his new name. "EVIN?"

Han blinked, forcing the blurry haze from his brain. "Oh, yeah. What is it, honey?" Easier to call her 'honey' than to ask for her name again.

"You should get up there and sing."

The request made him give a humorless laugh. "Oh, right. That'll happen when palm trees grow on Hoth."

"But it's five hundred credits! That's a lot of money."

"You go sing for it then," Han shot back, suddenly recalling a long-ago incident on the Falcon.

His memory drifted back to the days on Hoth. The Princess had come to him, asking if he would take her to Batuu where they would contact a Rebel willing to sell them munition supplies. Han remembered giving her a hard time about the long trip, but he'd taken her anyway, like he always did. Once there, they found the city where their supplier lived destroyed by the Empire. It appeared the entire population had been wiped out except for three small children - aged four to eight - that, somehow, miraculously survived the bombardment.

The children were hungry and cold, and after Han, Chewie and Leia had taken them back to the Falcon, fed them and cleaned them up, Chewie had gone to take a nap while Leia left to use the shower. This meant Han was alone with babysitting duties for these traumatized children. Having little experience with children, the Corellian had attempted to draw them out, to get them to talk, but was met with silence and more than a little fear showing in their wide eyes.

Finally, he gave up trying to get them to talk and turned on some music. A spunky, fast tune from his teenage years echoed through the speakers, and Han recalled the words. It had once been a favorite song of his, way back in the day. He looked at the children and sang a few words, then seeing that he'd actually gotten their attention, picked up a small hydrospanner to use as a 'mic' and stood up, singing along to the old song, scooting and shuffling along to the beat. The children started to smile and clap so Han decided end with a dramatic finish, spinning around... and ... froze...his heart dropping down to the soles of his boots.

Leia was standing in the arched doorway of the hold, a bemused expression on her face. Han felt his face flush red from his hair roots down to the bottom of his neck. This annoyed him to no end, as he took great pride in never getting embarrassed to the point of blushing.

"I wasn't aware you could sing, Solo," she'd said, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"I... I can't," Han remembered answering while quickly tossing the offending hydrospanner back in its box. "I, um, was just fooling around, tryin', ya know, to get the kids to smile a little bit."

"You actually were staying on key," Leia pointed out. "Plus, you wiggle very nicely. The pilots back on Hoth will be very interested to know you have a deep desire to become an entertainer."

She wouldn't dare.. would she? It was past time to turn this embarrassment around. "So you like my wiggle, huh? I could do it again, but only for a private audience of one, back in my berth."

That had made her mad, and she'd replied with some insult that Han had obviously blocked from his memory. And the best part was she never did tell anyone on base about his impromptu 'performance' which came as a huge relief, even though Han knew she could always use it against him if he made her angry enough.

It was a funny thing to remember right now. Especially since he was trying to not think about her.

The girl...Vinnie? ... was still on the subject despite his mentally drifting off. "But I can't sing a note! I've tried it before. And you're so cute they might give you the prize on looks alone."

"Cute?" Han raised an eyebrow. "Guys don't much appreciate bein' called 'cute'."

"It's five HUNDRED credits, Evin," the girl repeated. "You told us a bit ago how broke you were and you needed to find a job."

"Did I say that?" Han muttered, wondering how drunk he actually was at this point to tell strangers about his financial woes. Then, to no one in particular, he said, "Well, what the hell difference does it make, anyway. No one knows me, so I suppos' makin' an ass of myself don't matter a single bit."

"So you're gonna go sing?" Binnie(?) asked, grinning broadly.

"Sure, why not?"

Han staggered toward the stage and picked up an actual microphone. "Does this machine have "Darling I Don't Care" programmed in its guts?" he asked the machine's operator, trying not to slur his words too much.

Surprisingly, it did. And more surprisingly, Han still remembered the words, although he also had a screen at his feet that scrolled the words in case he'd forgotten. When he was finished the audience actually broke into serious applause and gave him a standing ovation. Han wasn't sure if this was meant as spontaneous mass sarcasm or not, but he gave a jaunty wave before he made his way back to the booth where his 'girls' were squealing in delight as the owner of the restaurant brought him over a five hundred credit voucher.

"See?" Ginnie(?) said, slapping his arm as he slid back inside the booth. "I just could tell by looking at you that you could sing."

"That's an amazing skill you have there, sweetheart," Han deadpanned. "You should get a job as a talent scout."

A man's voice spoke over his head. "Then she might take my job."

Han craned his neck to look up at a tall, well dressed man. "Excuse me?"

The man smiled down. "My name is Marvis Pruitt, and I am a music producer." He pulled out a small business card from his pocket, handing it to the surprised Corellien. "If you'd like, you can look me up and we can see how good you really are...what's your name, young man?"

"Evin. Evin Daysun."

"Mister Daysun, I believe you have a real talent. If you're interested, my comm number and address are on my card. I hope to see you soon." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Han dumbfounded and staring at an electronic card-chit that had the logo Coruscanti Labels embossed across the top edge.

"But I can't sing," Han protested again weakly to his female companions, who were too busy giggling to pay him much attention.

He finished his drink, feeling a bit better about his money situation when the human girl named Linnie (?) suddenly asked him, "Can we go to your place now?"

Han looked around, wondering where the Chiss had gone, since she seemed to have vanished into thin air. "My place? Sorry, hun, I don't have a place right now."

"We could get a hotel room."

Kriff, she was a bold one he decided, but shrugged, trying to ignore the internal warning bells going off in his foggy brain. "Sure, why not."

Hapes

Leia was nervous, pacing inside her private suite and waiting for her new husband. The actual wedding had been a blur, and now the public part was finally over. The private part hadn't begun. She had showered and dressed in a silk nightgown and put a matching robe over that, hoping her appearance would please Isolder - when and if he finally arrived.

The door swished open and it wasn't Isolder standing there. It was the Queen Filamina, and she looked at Leia with open contempt. "I assume you've prepared yourself properly for your wedding night. My son won't want any unpleasant surprises."

Leia was flummoxed and annoyed. "I took a shower."

"My dear," Filamina drawled out the word 'dear' and rolled her eyes. "You've had plenty of time to study our culture. It doesn't appear you care much about fitting in?"

"Of course I care."

"So you've removed your dirty hair?"

Leia touched her head in confusion. "I'm not wearing a wig."

The Queen deigned to take a step into Leia's chambers, and handed her a blue jar.

"What's this?"

"Hair removal cream," the Queen replied with a smirk. She pointed in the general direction of Leia's crotch. "For down there. Hapans find it vile so you need to take care to remove it before Isolder comes to your bed and consummates his union to you. Oh, and be careful not to touch your face until you wash your hands thoroughly, or you might find yourself without eyelashes or eyebrows... permanently."

"This is permanent?"

"Of course it is."

"Is this a requirement for females only?" Leia questioned, flushing with embarrassment.

"Don't be stupid," the Queen responded. "All Hapans, upon reaching puberty, do this. It is the law."

"I'm Alderaanian," Leia pointed out sharply.

"Not anymore," Filamina responded tartly. "You've signed a contract, and now you belong to the Royal Hapan family."

Belong? "I was supposed to become the ruling Queen upon this marriage."

The Queen gave a harsh laugh. "You are only a figurehead, dear, and I will still rule until you have a daughter and she comes of age to take the crown. Surely you don't think Hapans will allow an outsider to take control of our system."

"But..."

"We are done speaking. Now go take care of your unpleasantness before Isolder arrives." And with that, she left Leia standing alone, holding a blue jar and totally dumbfounded.