wrennette

madame shand's (270 words) by wrennette
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Book of Boba Fett (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Garsa Fwip, Fennec Shand, Boba Fett
Additional Tags: Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Assassin Garsa, Hostess Fennec, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Blanket Permission, do not copy or repost to other sites
Series: Part 8 of ffc 2022
Summary:

Garsa shifted her rifle in her hands at Boba's side, eyes scanning the establishment. She'd been in the employ of the Hutts for years, and was fairly familiar with Madame Shand's. It still made her stop and stare every time she stepped inside, the cool tiles and serene atmosphere so far outside her day to day existence.

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Garsa shifted her rifle in her hands at Boba's side, eyes scanning the establishment. She'd been in the employ of the Hutts for years, and was fairly familiar with Madame Shand's. It still made her stop and stare every time she stepped inside, the cool tiles and serene atmosphere so far outside her day to day existence. The Madame swept over, dark hair falling in loose, gleaming waves over her bare shoulders, her selte form dripping glittering silver spangles.

"Daimyo," Madame Shand said, dark eyes looking Boba over appraisingly, then glancing quickly over Garsa. "We weren't expecting you. We didn't hear your litter."

At Garsa's side, she saw Boba fight not to visibly bristle.

"I don't use a litter," Boba said flatly. "I got here on my own two feet."

"Of course, Daimyo," Shand said with a slight smile, cool and professional. "Let us polish your helmets." She waived over a pair of scantily dressed staff. Boba hesitated, but let them take his helmet. Garsa followed suit, forcing her face to stay placid as Madame Shand's gaze moved over her again.

"We want to reassure you," Boba said, speaking a bit louder so everyone in the front room could hear, "that your establishment will suffer no interruption in business or protection under the watch of the new Daimyo."

Shand dipped her head, her dark painted lips pursing momentarily. Garsa fought the urge to lick her own lips, to reach out and see if Madame Shand's skin was as silky-soft as it looked. She clenched her hands tighter around her rifle, until the leather of her gloves creaked around her fingers.