She takes you, priestess. With only one eye, she takes you. All your fumbling, mumbling, giggling, anxious uncertainty, suspicious tiger references, lies, unwise vulnerability, nothing escapes her notice. Not even when she quickly adjusts her bonked-askew hat (the most motion she’s made so far) does her eye leave you. Not once are you free from her gaze. She is watching. She is [i]judging,[/i] little bud. And all you can do is squirm, imagining how poorly you’d fare under [i]both[/i] those eyes.

And maybe you could spare yourself a little judgement if you could explain to her that giggle of yours. It’s not. You’re not supposed to. Impossible. Couldn’t, shouldn’t, nobody laughs like that, [i]priestesses[/i] don’t laugh like that. It can’t be a real sound. It just can’t. And. That’s that. So there. 

And, no, really? They let you out of the Temple? Before you turned into a terrible, miserable, useless, stuck-up, well, priestess? That can’t be right. She always thought that was part of the curriculum. Or, at least a prerequisite for letting you in the door in the first place? Wait, no, she didn’t [i]escape[/i] did she? 

...no, on second thought, not that. Definitely not that. She couldn’t escape her way out of an open field. All alone on a boat full of strangers, and what does she do? Plop her butt down next to the scariest, toughest thug around, pour out her heart, and ask for...oh no what [i]is[/i] she asking her for? And what’s she asking [i]her[/i] for?! This isn’t her job! Her job’s, uhhh, something else! That isn’t this!

Yeah, alright, she did ask. A brave ask, if you ask her. And a brave ask deserves a good answer. She’s got plenty of those.

Han snorted. A rough, gruff, [s]ugly[/s] laugh. “Doing it wrong? Sprout, you’re not like any priestess I’ve ever seen. First one to ask for a review, that’s for sure.”

The highest, most obvious praise she could offer.

[i]Nailed it.[/i]