FLYING SOLO ➳ luke skywalker

SEVEN! FEMALE ADVICE

ANALIA was sure she had never smelled worse, and that was including the time she had no choice but to escape a sticky situation by wading through a sewage system that was riddled with Wookiee excrement—a long story, and definitely one for another time.

Placing her blaster aside to free her hands, she wrung out the sodden ends of her hair, grimacing when the dirtied water splashed at her feet. As the others busied themselves with cleaning up as well, Analia shouldered off her jacket, tore off the sleeve of her shirt and pulled it very tightly around the wound on her leg, hoping that the strain would distract her from the dull and throbbing ache in the area. All thanks to the sheer brilliance of the wonderful Han Solo, her wound was going to take longer to heal than she had initially thought.

"We shouldn't hang around here. Are you losers ready?" Analia said, then she promptly rounded on Princess Leia and flashed her a smile, all the while avoiding meeting her gaze directly. "Not you, Your Highness."

"If we can avoid any more female advice, we oughta be able to get out of here," Han responded. As he sent a scruntinising glare spiralling Leia's way, he off-handedly passed Analia's blaster to her. Analia, however, roughly shoved the blaster back against Han's chest.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed. A smile had formed on her lips, but she did not look pleased at all. "How many times has my female advice saved your sorry ass?"

"Your female advice, maybe," Han pushed the blaster into Analia's hands more firmly and, giving in, she took it from him. Han then wildly gestured towards Princess Leia. "But her female advice, on the other hand—"

"Can we just get moving?" Luke chimed in, clearly wanting to avoid any further bickering and confrontation. Analia probably should've warned him about that before he and Ben decided to climb aboard the Millennium Falcon—Analia and Han were constantly at each other's throats.

A whirring noise came from within the abandoned trash compacter and, howling like a maniac, Chewbacca sprung to his feet and tore off down the corridor, leaving Analia and Luke to share an exasperated glance before calling after frenzied Wookiee.

Laughing in a deriding manner, Han rounded on the open door of the trash compactor and fired, despite Leia's panicked shout of, "No, wait! They'll hear!"

Ignoring the princess entirely, Han turned to Chewbacca and beckoned him over. "Come here, you big coward."

To no surprise, the big coward continued to cower, his blaster aimed at the trash compactor as he defiantly shook his head.

"Chewie, come here!" 

"Listen," Princess Leia hissed, drawing everyone's attention away from Chewbacca. She ignored Analia and Luke, however, and spoke directly to Han, her voice dripping with malice. "I don't know who you are or where you came from, but from now on, you do as I tell you, okay?"

Han looked as though he had been slapped across the face. Or maybe he was resisting the overwhelming urge to throttle Leia—Analia wasn't quite sure. Either way, Han appeared to be visibly and awfully affronted, but Analia jumped in before he could hurl his own snarky remark in the princess' direction.

"He's a halfwit holdupper from a scrap pile on Corellia," Analia snorted. "He's only helping rescue you because he wants to load up his pockets with—ouch! That hurt!"

Analia was cut off by her own yelp of pain when Han harshly elbowed her in the ribs. He was glaring down at her through scrunched eyebrows, the scowl on his face practically daring her to continue babbling. She would have too, had Princess Leia not rolled her eyes, turned on her heel and began to stride down the open corridor. Telling herself that she didn't care about the slight sting in her leg, Analia followed her, Luke at her side, and listened as Han and Leia started to row once more.