haveyourmoments | (no subject)

I’m not expecting the job when I get it, and truthfully it feels like it should be anyone’s hands but mine – minus the piloting part, of course, no one’s got reflexes like mine. Still, I need to repay bets and I figure there’s worse company than a princess of all people.

As luck would have it, I’m supposed to be flying out today, heading out for a diplomatic tour of several planets. I walk myself out towards the hangar, relieved at least to be breaking up the monotony with a lengthy trip.

As I walk, I spot a tall, dark haired man wearing Correllian bloodstripes down his pants, tinkering with a ship I’ve never seen before. Actually, ship might be a generous term, when it’s really more of a hunk of junk put together.

I don’t realise I’m being watched until I spin around and there she is, the princess with her arms crossed. “Am I supposed to bow?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t set that precedent, otherwise you’re going to have trouble flying the ship anytime I visit the cockpit,” I muse, eyebrow raised.

I crack a smile, enjoying her wit, before returning to tinkering on the Falcon. “You’re welcome to board and check out your quarters.”

I look at the ship skeptically, then back at the pilot. “I guess I really am flying undercover.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, turning back to look at her.

“My other ship is much larger, that’s all,” I say. “Room for staff, and all that.”

“We’ve got staff,” I say, gesturing over at Chewie who lifts his arm to wave.

“Ah, yes, he does look exactly like one of my ladies-in-waiting,” I smile teasingly, giving him a wave in return.

“I mean, if you’d rather one of your ladies be with us on the ship…” I say, raising my brow. “Just make sure you pick the one that’s best at avoiding asteroid fields.”

“Thus making my point about the size of the ship…” I say, looking at him with amusement.

“She’ll do just fine,” I say.

I just nod once, accepting his faith in the ship for now. “So…my quarters?”

“Sure, let’s go,” I say, walking on the ramp that enters the ship and showing her to a small room with two bunks and a soft blanket, the only warmth in the room.

I run my fingers over the blanket, trying not to wonder if this is some sort of punishment from my mother-in-law, who has never liked me. But I don’t want to seem ungrateful for the accommodations, and so I turn and thank him.

“They’re new mattresses,” I say a little defensively and a little apologetically all at once.

“It’s great, really,” I say, feeling guilty when he clearly read my thoughts. I clear my throat, knowing I need to make a peace offering. “I heard you’re a great pilot.”

“I like to think so,” I answer, relaxing a little.

“Why don’t you show me your ship?” I ask with a gentle smile, sensing that he’s proud of what he’s accomplished.

“As you wish,” I say, starting with the cockpit and explaining the layout as we go.

“And you made all these modifications yourself?” I ask, impressed.

“With a little Wookiee help,” I admit, used to taking all the credit but wanting her to think highly of my copilot too.

“That’s incredible,” I tell him. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m glad it’s not the dumpster you were expecting,” I say, but I’m softening.