Han Solo sits at a booth in the Mos Eisley Cantina, when one of the Tonnika sisters sidles up beside him.
“Hey, flyboy,” she purrs, “for thirty credits, I will do anything you want.”
Han raises his eyebrows. “Anything?”
Han reaches into his pants pockets and fishes out some cash. He plunks down thirty creds onto the table, then turns to the side.
“Hey Chewie,” he shouts, “I found someone to paint the Falcon!”