Яппаньки вам,уважаем(ый)(ая)(ое)!

said, his voice oddly preoccupied.

She frowned at him. "You sure?"

"Yeah," he said. His eyes flicked over her shoulder, and she glanced around in time to see Fey'lya stride from the room. "Go on. I'll catch up with you."

"All right," she said, frowning at him.

"It's okay," he assured her, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "I just need to talk to Fey'lya for a minute."

"What about?"

"Personal stuff." He tried one of those lopsided smiles she usually found so endearing. It didn't look nearly so innocent this time as it normally did. "Hey-it's okay," he repeated. "I'm just going to talk to him. Trust me.

"I've heard that before," Leia sighed. But Luke had already left the room, and Karrde was on his way out : and Mon Mothma had that look about her that signified that she was about to come over and ask Leia for a favor. "Just try to be diplomatic, all right?"

His eyes flicked over her shoulder again. "Sure," he said. "Trust me.

Fey'lya was heading down the Grand Corridor toward the Assemblage chamber when Han caught sight of him, walking with that peculiar gait of someone who's in a terrific hurry but doesn't want anyone else to know it. "Hey!" Han called. "Councilor Fey'lya!"

The only response was a brief flush of pale red across the nearest of the line of ch'hala trees. Glowering at the back of Fey'lya's head, Han lengthened his stride, and within a dozen quick paces had caught up with the other. "I'd like a word with you, Councilor," he said.

Fey'lya didn't look at him. "We have nothing to discuss," he said.

"Oh, I think we do," Han said, falling into step beside him. "Like maybe trying to find a way out of the jam you're in here."

"I thought your female was the diplomat of the family," Fey'lya sniffed, throwing a sideways look at Han's
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