Han Solo took another sip of space whiskey and scanned the room. Work had gotten dry since the empire was disbanded. For a few months, he and Chewy had stayed with Leia, but he couldn’t be on the same planet with either of them anymore. The way she played with that Wookie’s hair, right in front of him. He felt sick thinking about it, or maybe it was the homemade hooch. The empire had much better manufacturing. Say what you want about tyranny, but it makes good business.
“Is this what I fought for?” he said with a smirk. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but he wanted the girl next to him to hear. She was cute. A few more eyes than he usually went for, but just the right number of tentacles. “Hey beautiful, where you from?” he asked, and she laughed coquettishly from one of her mouths and sneered from another.
These Targol System girls always gave mixed signals. He remembered something Luke had taught him.
“You want to come back to my motel room.”
She slapped him with one of her tentacles, and caressed the mark with another. She wrapped one tentacle around his thigh and another around his neck. “Easy, toots,” he said, but she wasn’t done. She threw him to the floor and dissolved his clothes in her acid secretion. With deliberation, she covered his sore and stinging body in her stickers, chewing softly against him. He wasn’t sure if he was being kissed or eaten, but he was uncomfortable either way.
“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to force myself on you,” but he wasn’t and he had and these Targol System girls could tell. They were a race of contradictions, but a race without secrets.