Han said patiently into the Falcon’s transmitter, glaring across at the modified B-wing running beside them. “I also don’t have any accounts here. I’m trying to reach Lando Calrissian.” From the seat behind him came a sound that might have been a stifled laugh. “You say something?” he asked over his shoulder. “No,” Leia said innocently. “Just remembering the past.” “Right,” Han growled. He remembered, too; and Bespin wasn’t on his list of fond memories. “Look, just give Lando a call, will you?” he suggested to the B-wing. “Tell him that an old friend is here, and thought we might play a hand of sabacc for my choice of his stock. Lando will understand.” “We want to what?” Leia asked, leaning forward around his chair to give him a startled look. Han muted the transmitter. “The Imperials might have spies here, too,” he reminded her.
