She had to be as crazy as he was, he thought when he noticed her fingers running over patches of scarring. That was the only thing to explain it in his mind. Had he thought over what he knew of her history that might have had him thinking harder on it, but concentration was not his forte at the moment.

When he finally took the time to realize how much clothing had been done away with, his brain stalled out long enough for him gasp once, but it wasn't as though that sounded like any great protest. Setting her down again, he felt his fingers move to the waist of her pants even as he was telling them not to. "Tryin' ter make a man thristy, ye are," he murmured, bypassing her lips for her neck. Fett had no experience with trashy novels, not many works of fiction in general. It made the dialogue even harder for him to comprehend.