“Thank you.” She accepted the wine graciously and sipped, it was unusual but not unpleasant, in fact it had a faintly honeysuckle taste that played sweetly over her tongue. It made her smile in pleased surprise. “No, this is quite nice actually, thank you again.” And she leaned a bit to raise her glass to the bartender in acknowledgement of a drink well chosen.

Han’s comment earned a single dark brow arching upward, was she pleased or insulted or vaguely amuse, hard to tell as she hid her expression before the rim of her glass and a well-timed slow sip. “Credit where it’s due, Han is an extraordinarily skilled pilot. I’m not sure we’d be here, or at least in one piece if not for him.”

Granted her urge to throttle him was always pushed to the edge when he got cocky in the pilots chair. But she’d had to learn to trust him. When she’d first laid eyes on the Falcon she’d been unsure it would fly, let alone out maneuver anything but the most busted of the imperial fleet. The cocky pilot had made her eat those words and she found herself unable to disparage at least that skill. “That’s made him invaluable to the Rebellion, if he was able to focus more on it we might have made more progress already.” And there’s the backhand to her compliment.