[Ever since her return to the Moira and the glass running through her neck, shoulders, and jaw, Leia's moved with the kind of proud poise old Madame Vesta would have approved of. Unfortunately, it's not so good for anything other than looking dignified and (a little) eerie: Turning her head is so difficult that she's slowly getting into the habit of turning bodily toward anything she wants to see. Sleeping tonight, she suspects, is going to be awful.
But at least she can still ogle the man undressing at the other side of the bed. It's something terribly nice, the fact that they can curl up together in a space of their own and forget the ship beyond them.
Nice, that is, until he pulls off his shirt, and she catches sight of his back.]
Han!
[His name, at least, is still easy to say: breathe out the H and cut off the sound for the N, and it's basically there. Through her barely-open lips, the sound is muffled and dull to her ears, but there's a note of worry cutting it.]
after the after
But at least she can still ogle the man undressing at the other side of the bed. It's something terribly nice, the fact that they can curl up together in a space of their own and forget the ship beyond them.
Nice, that is, until he pulls off his shirt, and she catches sight of his back.]
Han!
[His name, at least, is still easy to say: breathe out the H and cut off the sound for the N, and it's basically there. Through her barely-open lips, the sound is muffled and dull to her ears, but there's a note of worry cutting it.]