#demipoodle

@perfectisme-georgette

This was some sweet digs. Maui had never been somewhere so fancy. It was certainly nicer than the hunk of junk he’d (accidentally) landed on Ilargia. He’d never even heard of the place before, though, gosh it was pretty. Wandering into the capital, Maui had been looking for spare parts, when he’d seen a flyer advertising bodyguards for the Royals.

Hey--I can do that, Maui had thought to himself, patting his trusty blaster on his hip. He’d met with the head of the Queen’s security, impressed him with a few well-aimed shots, cleared the background check with a few fibs--

And now here he was on the shiniest ship he’d ever seen, in the Queen’s quarters, no less.

He ran a finger across one of the tables tucked into the corner--a breakfast nook-type situation, if he had to guess. Maui had never had a breakfast nook before. Letting out a low whistle, he looked up as the Queen came in from her private chambers, flanked by what he assumed were handmaidens.

“I told you I clean up nice,” he told her as she looked him over, gesturing at his wrinkled shirt--free of stains--and black cloth pants. He’d shined his boots himself, even if his hair was still messy and there was a scar on his cheek.