03 – Soft
There was nothing soft in her.
Jaina Solo was not beautiful, Jagged Fel decided.
His father had spoken of the Solo and Skywalker's with the same regard he spoke of flying. Jag had come to associate them – whatever they were, his enemies or his father's old friends – as a legend that yet needed to be proven. He intended to do so.
Not exactly beautiful, but she drew in glances. She also was a damn good pilot.
She spiraled downwards gracefully, her X-Wing seemingly a living extension of her body. Nothing soft. A coral skipper bloomed into silent fire and burst.