Log Date: 8/20/98 Log Cast: Dalron Quinn, Cirlimnor Darhkh, Han Solo, Leia Organa-Solo, Nerb Errat Log Intro: Han's done a fairly good job of keeping himself occupied with his new position -- and truth be told, it's a relief to him to have something to _do_. Still, it's meant that he's had to be away from Leia for an extended period of time again, and he misses the Princess sorely, enough that when he receives word of a HoloNet transmission coming into the Sluis Van Civil Offices for him, the only available terminal he can get to at the moment, he hastens to answer his wife's call.... ---------- You walk into the civil office. Civil Offices - Sluis Van This is a small, sparesly decorated room. The walls are white, the floor lightblue and the roof dark gray. The room is filled with small desks where functionaries do their daily duties. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => NR ID Updater => Economic Presence => HoloTerm <12-06-25> -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Dalron => Cirlimnor -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ut leads to Landing Field - Sluis Van. Dalron says, "Hello." Cirlimnor says, "Hello" Stepping into the civil offices, flanked by a pair of slightly harried looking young ensigns, Solo casts a level glance around the place. To the greeting from the pair of strangers, he inclines his head, businesslike, and he then heads for the holoterminal. Cirlimnor leaves the offices through the doorway. Cirlimnor has left. Dalron leaves the offices through the doorway. Dalron has left. Attempting Connection to "03-33-45"... .. Connection established. Leia appears in the display. Han's face and some of his frame rezzes into view, his comfortably rumpled uniform shirt indicating that he's about as 'on duty' as he's liable to get. He's clean-shaven, though, and his hair actually looks more or less groomed, his concessions to a proper military appearance. "Leia," his image murmurs, a lopsided grin crossing his face. "I'm here." On the other side of holovid is the princess's visage, a bit drawn but flooding with relief as Han's image fills her screen. "Han..." Then, clearing her throat and smoothing her features, she asks, "How are you?" "I'm alright," is the Corellian's prompt reply; his voice is pitched low, suggesting he's not necessarily at a private terminal and is trying to keep his conversation between himself and his wife. "Fairly quiet here with you guys off at Caspar. Everything going okay there?" Leia nods, though she seems likewise subdued. "It is. So things are, um, quiet, are they? How is Lando?" (speaking in Basic) Giving a low chuckle, Han confides, "He hasn't wormed his way into my sabacc games yet. Probably for the best, Danvers is getting cleaned out by me often enough as it is." "That sounds like fun." Leia leans a bit closer to the projector, a quirky smile edging up one corner of her mouth. "Win enough to buy me a new wardrobe." Han's eyes twinkle a little -- though perhaps that's just the projection. "Need some new gowns, Princess?" he teases lightly, his voice dropping to a fond murmur. Leia smiles again, her expression and muscles relaxing by the second. "I have to look my best for my admirers," she answers softly, her alto a low drawl that implies a return tease. Han's brows arch over his eyes. "Admirers?" he echoes, starting to pretend to sound indignant. "What admirers are these?" "Oh...just some men who're admiring my political prowess," Leia says breezily, then, with a sigh and decidedly less humor, adds, "And men who want me off Caspar, I think." Han had thought to act jealous, but the change in his wife's tone drains the pretense from his weathered features. He isn't surprised -- Leia _is_ Leia, after all, and Caspar is neutral territory, even if it's ostensibly friendly. "Discontented commentary? Or actual trouble?" She shrugs, not hiding her fatigue now. "For now, just malcontents...I don't think, however, I'll go out without escort. There's something uncomfortable on the horizon, Han. And I met a Force user today, someone I didn't know was a Force user." "Another one?" The Corellian's dark brows knit. "Dark or Light, or do you know...?" "I don't know," Leia admits with a sigh. "I'm hoping...well...I don't know. He didn't know Luke, either. Perhaps Jessalyn..." Slowly, Han nods, out of his depth with issues involving the Force and knowing it. "You gonna be alright?" he asks quietly. Leia lets out a long sigh and admits, "I hope so." Han's features turn slightly anxious, slightly awkward; as long as his attendant ensigns, as pesky as mynocks, are in the room, he doesn't want them to see him looking troubled. And he's not entirely comfortable with letting Leia see it, either. But he murmurs nevertheless, "You're strong, Princess. But you tell me if you need me there, okay?" -Now- Leia conjures a brave, confident sort of smile; for Han she can be anything. "I'll be fine. I just..." Here is where she is about to sound needy, and that she dislikes. Still, sighing, she says softly, "I just wanted to see you." That makes Han's expression soften noticeably, and his mouth curls up on one end. "I miss you too," he confesses, _very_ softly. The calm visage Leia presents at all times flickers, then she tells him in a very quiet voice, "I love you," before reasserting that mask of Confident Princess again. "But I shouldd get back to work and leave you alone to do -your- job." "I know," rasps the Corellian, his voice lightly toned, his eyes intent. "You've ruined me for the rest of the day though, you know..." Leia's hand raises as if to touch the place where Han's visage is displayed, then, with the barest flickering of a smile, she tells him, "Don't pick up any stray, voluptious, leggy pilots. And I'll be in touch." Han manfully resists the urge to ask guilelessly, 'What about short perky ones?' Instead, he smiles crookedly, his image shifting to relay the lifting of his own hand. "I'll count the hours," he promises. "Be careful, Highness." "You be careful...you're the one tempting the ire of sabacc players." Leia chuckles to herself, adding, "And tell Lando I said hello." Then, before doing so is too difficult, she severs the connection. << END OF TRANSMISSION >> The holo terminal deactivated, Han Solo blows out a slight breath, and turns away from the machine, scanning the room. His two aides have been discreetly lingering out of earshot, and don't immediately notice their commander's conversation is complete, not yet. The Corellian shoves a hand through his hair, and tries to erase from his expression and bearing the signs of how much he's missing his wife as he glances around the offices. Errat walks in at a brisk pace and looks around. Seeing Han, he walks over and says in almost perfect Basic, "You seem to be high ranking, General. Would you be able to help me?" His tone is polite, but not suggesting anything. He eyes the aids the his black eyes turns back to Solo. He smiles slightly with his snout. Errat Before you is a male Rodian. He is about 1.5 meters tall, probably slightly taller. His completely black eyes reveal no clues about him. He has spines near the back of his skull, like all Rodians. Also like all Rodians, he is green, and has suckers on his hand. He is wearing a grey shirt under a black jacket. He is also wearing black pants. On his feet, he dons a pair of tough looking boots made from Bantha hide. He has a gunbelt around his waist, on it is a blaster holster. The Rodian's voice catches the attention of the aides only a beat or so after Solo's hazel gaze settles on the being before him. He shows no particular amiability, but neither does he display any notable hostility, as the two ensigns scurry back over to the Corellian's side. "Depends on what you need help with," replies Solo with gruff politeness. "I'll give it a shot." The Rodian's smile continues, growing slightly. His black eyes are still looking at Solo. He bows with his head slightly and says in the same pleasant tone, it sounds almost practiced, "My thanks, General. I have been told the freighter outside is aquireable, the Black Eagle it is caled. Would you be able to help me?" He stops speaking, a small tinge of hopefullness in his voice is perceptible. "I wouldn't know about it," says the Corellian, his brow slightly furrowed; he keeps his gaze steady, accustomed to looking sentients of all varieties into whatever they might have in the way of eyes. "Can't help you; sorry." Errat nods and says, "Well thank you anyway General." He turns to go, leaving at the brisk pace he entered. Errat leaves the offices through the doorway. Errat has left. [End log.]