Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Solo grinned tightly. "Shove it, Jabba. There isn't enough sentiment in yourbody to warm an orphaned bacterium. As for Greedo, you sent him to kill me." "Why, Han," Jabba protested in surprise, "why would I do that? You're the bestsmuggler in the business. You're too valuable to fry. Greedo was only relaying mynatural concern at your delays. He wasn't going to kill you." "I think he thought he was. Next time don't send one of those hired twerps. Ifyou've got something to say, come see me yourself." Jabba shook his head and his jowls shook—lazy, fleshy echoes of his mocksorrow. "Han, Han—if only you understand…I just can't make an exception.Where would I be if every pilot who smuggled for me dumped his shipment at thefirst sign of an Imperial warship? And then simply showed empty pockets when Idemanded recompense? It's not good business. I can be generous and forgiving—but not to the point of bankruptcy." "You know, even I get boarded sometimes, Jabba. Did you think I dumped thatspice because I got tired of its smell? I wanted to deliver it as much as you wantedto receive it. I had no choice." Again the sardonic smile. "As you say, I'm toovaluable to fry. But I've got a charter now and I can pay you back, plus a little extra.I just need some more time. I can give you a thousand on account, the rest in threeweeks." The gross form seemed to consider, then directed his next words not to Solo butto his hirelings. "Put your blasters away." His gaze and a predatory smile turned tothe wary Corellian.