Short Story Of Han's Naboo

“Quite a fine wine, your highness,” Han humbly agreed while accepting the proffered glass. He swirled the blue colored liquid around, inhaling the scene and further inspected it by lifting it to the light. “Thank you. ‘Appreciate the offer. Don’t think I can say no to choice wines either.” Han pitched his head in the direction of the Empress, smiling lightly as he boosted the glass in the air, a means to cheer. Though, he wasn’t sure if the traditions on Naboo were similar. Mid-rim planets were like night and day at times, when juxtaposed to the core words where Solo hailed from. All in all, he hoped it hadn’t been insulting to have done so. Though wary, he trusted the Empress enough to not poison him at random. If he died, at least he was able to meet Luke prior to his untimely death.
Bittersweet, with one hell of a strange kick after swallowing. Just as he had anticipated. Han figured that was what made it so popular on the market as an elite wine. In his hands could essentially be more than a couple thousand credits, and that was with the taint of his sampling. “Your majesty,” Han reassured emphatically once the burn subsided and began to warm his belly. “There’s nothin’ to be concerned about. In my certain line of work — keepin’ your mouth shut keeps you alive. I’m good at what I do...” He trailed off to sit down in front of her grand desk. Han attempted nonchalance despite himself. It was true he made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs, but it was a rather long and convoluted story with details he’d rather not delve into. For once, he prayed he wouldn’t have to discuss the story he would, more often than not, prattle on about. “If you’d like me to give ya the full story, I