[ That's one thing she could do when having trouble falling asleep, stare at the dark ceiling, count some lothcats. Count baby banthas. Han's response doesn't help how she's feeling, like she'd been caught, which she had been. Kind of.

The mugs are set down and Leia keeps moving around the kitchen, keeps her back to him, needing to move about and pretend like she's not on the spot. It sucks being so fair-skinned, her cheeks flush too easily. ]

It's not like I can just call someone over to help. With that. There's no one I can— trust. [ There's Poe, maybe, and then there's...the man currently standing in her kitchen... Crap. ] Look. I contacted the network for sleeping aid remedies. That's it. Some suggestions were... They were a little personal.