Log Date:
	6/22/97, 6/23

Log Cast:
	Han Solo, Leia Organa-Solo

Log Intro:
	With the unlooked-for return of Chewbacca the Wookiee to Calamari --
flying the _Millenium Falcon_, and bringing with him the young woman Corinth
who helped him steal it back while he was still stranded and presumed dead
on Etti IV -- Han Solo has gleefully stayed up the night putting down enough
alcohol to intoxicate ten Corellians, swapping stories and demands of "What
the hells happened to you?!" with his partner, and finally staggering off
gladly to the _Falcon_ herself. Overjoyed to have both his friend and his
ship back more or less in one piece, Han has had absolutely no qualms about
drinking himself into oblivion -- simply because Chewbacca is helping him
do it. But, of course, getting that inebriated takes a while, and by the
following evening, Han is missed by one who is still trying to reaccustom
herself to _his_ resumed presence on Calamari....

----------
_I don't think,_ Han Solo considers muzzily, _that I have EVER been quite this 
  drunk...._ Unless that time on Caidon VI counted... and _that_ hadn't been 
  fair anyway, how he was he to know that the favorite local intoxicant was 
  geared towards flattening beings twice his size? Here and now, though, he 
  could feel the deck under his back, and the outline of the access hatch 
  overhead seemed pleasantly blurred. He could hear Chewbacca snoring 
  vociferously from the bunk above and behind the holo-chess table, and he 
  couldn't help but snicker. _Chewie, ol' pal, you done a number on me this 
  time. Welcome home..._

Stepping lightly through the corridors of the Falcon, Leia can smell her 
  husband long before she reached the lounge. In fact, that's not all she 
  can smell; having been locked up for so long, the air in the Falcon's 
  sacred hallows has a slightly stale odor, and a slightly familiar one as 
  well; there is definitely some vital fluid seeping from one of the ship's 
  various systems.. all in all, though, there is a definite scent of alcohol 
  wafting through the air. Careful not to touch the walls as she continues 
  forward.. for who knows what might ooze or leak or break if that happened.. 
  Leia progresses fully into the lounge to stop in the doorway and allow her 
  gaze to rest upon her husband.

Han lies sprawled in the middle of the deck, his right knee crooked up, his 
  left hand draped along his stomach; the white shirt he's wearing has gotten 
  completely rumpled, smeared in places with oil and coolant fluid, testifying 
  that he's already dived headlong into examining the state of his vessel. 
  Chewbacca is curled up on the bunk over the couch by the holo-chess table, 
  and the Wookiee is blissfully snoring, making enough noise that he'd be 
  drowning out the _Falcon_'s engines -- if they were powered up.
By Han's outflung right hand rests an empty whiskey bottle; three more equally 
  empty bottles stand on the game table, with a fourth tipped over beside 
  them. The Corellian's head turns slightly, indicating that he's at least 
  partially conscious, and as Leia draws near, she can glimpse him grinning 
  beatifically up at the ceiling.

If it had been any other day under any other circumstances, Leia would 
  probably have been furious to stumble upon this particular scene, but after 
  the last.. well, almost a year.. the sight before her truly warmed her 
  heart. Glancing over her shoulder towards the corridor as if considering 
  leaving Han in his blissful state, Leia suddenly remembered why she'd come 
  in the first place; that churning thought tightens the contented smile upon 
  her lips as she takes light steps closer to her husband, her voice softly 
  calling, "Han.."

Han's head turns, and some of his upper body follows it, as he slowly wriggles 
  around in the direction of his wife's voice. Hazel eyes wide and glassy, he 
  looks up, and his face is promptly lit by an enormous, soft, lopsided smile. 
  "Your Worshipfulness," he murmurs slurrily.

Leia reaches Han's side and crouches down slightly, careful to remain upwind 
  of the Corellian as one hand reaches down with slender fingers to brush the 
  forwardmost whisps of Han's hair, "Feeling better?"

Han rolls onto his back once more, and positively beams up at the delicate 
  features over him. "Got my ship," he proclaims. His words come out of him 
  noticeably slower than usual, and he lifts a hand to try to gesture around 
  the hold, but the hand drops heavily down again after a moment; he doesn't 
  seem to notice. "My ship!"

Mentally, Leia sighs.. though that soft and slightly tensed smile never leaves 
  her expression; if Luke didn't need to know her answer soon.. she'd almost 
  be convinced to let him sober up before trying to hold this important 
  conversation with him. She mmnhmms and nods to affirm her husband's claim, 
  then hesitates before mentioning in as casual a voice as she can muster, 
  "Luke came by earlier.."

"Got my ship...." A particularly magnificient SNORK of a noise escapes 
  Chewbacca, and Han twitches for a moment in silent amusement before adding 
  thickly, "Got my friend!" And his gaze abruptly softens, as his hand rises 
  again, this time to tug at Leia's shoulder. "My Princess." His hand tugs 
  again. "All th' way up there. How come you're all the way up there?"

Leia almost winces at the premise of being closer to that strong odor of 
  whiskey, even if it _is_ coming from her husband. "Han, Luke's going to 
  Yavin soon.. tomorrow morning."

The Corellian blinks owlishly, as the second mention of Luke finally secures 
  the concept of the Jedi as a topic of discussion in his awareness. "Oh," he 
  replies, then his brow furrows as he peers up at his wife. Something in her 
  tone suggests that this is a little bit different than a simple relaying of 
  information -- after all, Leia is _here_, isn't she, telling him this _now_? 
  Trying to rally his sodden wits, he adds brightly, "What for?"

Leia_Solo pauses in considering the best way to describe the situation to Han, 
  and settles on, "He has some important business to attend to.." Again, the 
  princess hesitates to select her wording carefully, speaking in as delicate 
  a tone as she can, "Han, he needs me to go with him."

The word 'go' stands out among the rest of Leia's words, and Han's radiant 
  expression dims down a little. "You're gonna go?"

Another mental sigh for Leia as she purses her lips ever so slightly, "Han, 
  Luke needs me."

Han blinks several times, having difficulty processing this concept. 
  Something's slightly askew with it, though he can't quite figure out what. 
  His flushed face shifting over from its soft foolish grin to a rather more 
  plaintive look, he then announces dolefully, "_I_ need you..." And he frowns 
  a little at that, looking abruptly embarrassed.

Leia nods slowly, her voice reassuring, "I know, Han.." She spends a moment 
  smiling softly at him before adding in a quieter tone, "Han, this is 
  something I need to do."

Vaguely dismayed that he has failed to coax his beloved down from All the Way 
  Up There, Han ponders, his hand still awkwardly clutching at Leia's 
  shoulder. "You gotta go?" he slurs, his face then reflecting deep 
  concentration, and finally, a nova of joy at his own brilliance. "I'll take 
  yah! I got my _ship_. Just gotta wake up Chewie..." And all at once he 
  starts to struggle to sit up.

"Han, wait.." Leia exclaims as she tries to keep the not-so-sober Corellian 
  from rising, her verbal attempt aided by a soft touch at his shoulder, "Han, 
  not now, just.. just lie back down.."

"Ooooooh..." Han's eyes almost cross as the hold swirls slowly about him, and 
  he woozily proclaims, "Stabilize th' alluvial dampers..."

Leia insists in a quiet voice, "Han, lie back down." as she continues to 
  softly press against his shoulder as if to aid gravity in guiding him back 
  to the deck.

Either several months away from intoxicants have lowered his tolerance, or 
  else Han has put down a truly phenomenal amount of alcohol, for even that 
  gentle pressure to his shoulder is enough to give him momentum in the 
  desired direction. He begins to slump backwards, and abruptly picks up 
  speed, till the back of his head solidly reunites with the deck.

Leia winces visibly and furrows her brow as she leans forward to run a hand 
  against the side of her husband's cheek, "Han, are you all right?"

Looking rather dumbfounded -- perhaps he doesn't quite grasp this turn of 
  events -- Han blinks a time or two, then intelligently replies, "Ow."

Concern rides through Leia's expression and she strokes the Corellian's cheek 
  in a comforting manner, "Han, just.. try not to move."

The soft fingers by his cheek make Han turn his head toward them, and nuzzle 
  them languidly even as he protests, "But you gotta go t' Yavin..."

"I can always take a shuttle.." Leia states softly, "Or I can wait until you 
  can bring me."

Han attempts to look stern, fixing a glower more or less up in the direction 
  of his wife. "You don' think I can fly 'er drunk, do yah? Can so! Fly 'er 
  drunk, fly 'er sick, fly 'er blindfolded, fly 'er 'sleep...." And then his 
  face softens again, his eyes warmly lit behind their glaze. "Always fly my 
  ship. Got 'er back. Everything's right again... my ship an' my friend an' my 
  Princess..." His focus on Leia's face sharpens slowly as he speaks, and as 
  he trails off, he looks suddenly shy, wrestling for words.

Leia smiles serenely and adopts a look of understanding and silent apology as 
  she attempts to humor her drunken husband; the look softens by a dozen 
  degrees as his words fade and she states quietly in an attempt to shift the 
  subject to one less embarrassing for her mate, "Luke isn't leaving until 
  tomorrow, so we have plenty of time."

"Oh," Han mumbles, lifting a hand that's intended to make it up to the 
  Princess's own face, to return her gentle contact. But the motion is a 
  little too much for him, and his fingers change course, moving to curl 
  around the hand by his face. Then he smiles hopefully. "I get to fly yah?"

Leia seems to minutely hesitate as her eyes focus just behind Han; she nods, 
  however and brings her attention back to her husband's face fully, "Of 
  course."

That soft, foolish grin spreads across Han's features once more, and he slurs 
  happily, "Don' hafta outrun Star Destroyers. No asteroid fields. Piece o' 
  cake!"

Royal fingers move up to rustle the hair resting against Han's forehead; her 
  eyes lift to take in the surrounding cabin and amused tones filter into her 
  voice as she lowly remarks, "That would be a first." before adding in a more 
  audible tone and with more of a smile focused at her mate, "I hope you feel 
  like flying tomorrow."

The fallen pilot makes a brief disparaging splutter of a noise, grinning. 
  "Course I'll feel like flyin'. 'Mjus' a l'il drunk, is all. Could fly real 
  good right now!" And Han stares up at the Princess, hazel eyes wide and 
  guileless, making him look like a boy. "Sure you don' wan' me to take you 
  right now?"

Leia nods solemnly, but with an apologetic smile, "I need to make all the 
  preparations for our departure.." She flashes him a second, slightly 
  brighter smile as she adds, "Otherwise I'd love to. But for now, I need to 
  go make some arrangements.." She begins to slowly lift from her crouch by 
  her husband's side.

"Awww... don' go 'way, Your Worship," Han pleads. "All by myself onna nice 
  soft deck..."

Leia mmnhmmns quietly as she completes her move to stand, smiling down upon 
  the Corellian. "You'll be all right," she asserts, "Just close your eyes, 
  I'll be back before you know it."

Hangdog of expression, the sort of look small boys use to try to wheedle 
  sweets from parents, Han cajoles, "Can't have a lap? Softer 'n' a deck..."

Leia shakes her head softly with an amused smile, "You should try and get some 
  sleep, Han." She takes a step back in preparation to turn and head for the 
  exit.

The Corellian's eyelids start drooping closed, as though in agreement with the 
  Princess's suggestion. Only a slight furrow to his brow remains as Han 
  mumbles, "Wan' sleep with you. Not slept with you 'nough. Lousy husband. 
  Scold..."

Leia smirks a gentle smile, leaving her gaze to rest on her husband silently 
  for a moment or two before turning softly and taking light steps towards the 
  corridor.

[End log.]