"Well I'll be *damned*," Han mutters under his breath as he walks into Jabba's palace. Just as he had been told, there was a girl there, dressed in uncomfortable looking slave attire ─ brass and copper and cloth that barely formed a skimpy outfit. Chewie was following behind him, trilling with irritation. Neither of them felt like doing any work today.

But alas, a job was a job. Even if the job was to break in the new slave girl their boss had captured from The Force knows where. The poor girl looked disgusted. Anyone would be disgusted if they had to be within 10 feet of Jabba.

Making his way up to the throne, Han puts his hands on his hips. "She's a pretty thing, I'll give 'er that." He tells Jabba, who agrees in Huttese. Ironically, Han had just come from a rendezvous with a Nabooian girl, only slightly evident from his tussled hair and unevenly buckled holster.

Eventually, after being given a run-down of how exactly Jabba wanted the girl trained, Han and the girl, whose name he'd learned was you, are together in a small cell.

Han had a whip in his hand, his other hand on his chin as he looked at the assorted instruments of torture on the wall. "So, sweetheart," He turns to look at you. "We'll start with somethin' easy."

He walks up to you, and kneels down in front of you. He snaps and points up to his face. "Look at me, sugar."