To be fair, he doesn't really need to hear anything. The shameful failure of her decorum classes to offer lessons on appropriate post-coital chatter can be neatly excused. As far as he's concerned, they can curl up in total silence or talk about anything she likes, his ego has been sufficiently stroked.

He huffs a laugh at the comparison to holochess, and wraps an arm around her as she leans down.

(And yeah, he's got a couple of ideas. No rush. There's plenty of time before they get to Bespin.)

Taking a good swig of the wine, he hums agreeably. It is good, better than he'd generally buy for himself. Pretty much a necessity, when you're choosing bribes.

He swallows, and then he kisses her, because the wine doesn't hold a candle when it comes down to it.