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In Which There is Drabble

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Uncle Iroh reminds me of my Nonno (grandfather): smooth with the ladies, full of wisdom and a little (read: a lot) crazy.


There is honour in humbling yourself to defeat, he has told his nephew this. But better than honour is the narrow waist and gentle weight of a beautiful woman — despite her temporary paralysis.

‘Uncle? I didn’t see you get hit with the tongue.’

Iroh subtly hitched the bounty hunter a little higher onto his chest even as he cracked an eye open to peer at his nephew. ‘Shhhh,’ he advised, pressing a very un-paralysed finger to his lips.

Ahhh, the sweet, lordly scent of perfume — as it sloshed and dribbled towards them — soaked the lovely Jun where she lay.

‘May I just say, you smell as sweet as water lily in bloom?’ he whispered to the scowling woman in his arms.