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One thing Captain Firmus Piett greatly disliked was losing his hat.
Or rather, the three times Piett lost his hat and the one time he found it.
---
The first time in Firmus Piett's Imperial career that he lost his hat was one that aggravated him for years afterwards. There had been no call for such a vicious firefight, certainly not one involving naval forces to the extent that they had.
Well, Lieutenant Piett was likely one of the very few naval officers with any previous combat experience at this posting, and therefore he knew how to handle himself in such a situation, but still.
The Kitawen gang were notorious for hounding Imperial supply ships in this sector, and had finally worked up the courage to outright attack a star destroyer.
Definitely hadn't worked up the brains, however, Piett thought sourly, taking a shot at another pirate and hitting them dead center mass.
So far, the pirates' idea had been to force their way onto the star destroyer and fight their way to the bridge.
Not the brightest plan, if anyone asked Piett, but he concentrated on slowing their progress towards the bridge until reinforcements arrived.
It really had been just poor chance that he had been passing by the hangar bay when the pirate ship had come crashing in, leaving behind a trail of scorched metal and crushed bodies of pilots and technicians alike.
The sight had angered Piett, and before he knew it, he'd drawn his service blaster and along with several stormtroopers, were currently severely hampering the Kitawen gang's progress.
Their leader, to his surprise, was a dug with black skin and brownish markings, yellow eyes glaring with fury at the Imperial officer when he popped up from behind his cover to fire back as if Piett had somehow offended him and all his ancestors personally by just doing his job.
And perhaps I have, Piett thought, annoyance crossing his face as he attempted to take out the dug but only succeeded in clipping the alien who'd quickly ducked back behind a large crate.
However, the pirates had spent too long being pinned in the corridor, and everyone here knew it.
Somewhere behind him, Piett could feel the vibration of dozens of armored boots clattering against the deck towards them, and behind them would be even more reinforcements.
This was a star destroyer, after all, not some light cruiser.
"Retreat! Back to the ship!" the dug yelled, then yelped as Piett took advantage of the alien standing moronically out of his cover to rally his men, and nailed him in one leg. Arm? Limb.
The dug went down, separated a ways from the rest of the gang, and Piett darted forwards, careful to make sure he had something to hide behind as he made his way towards the pirate leader.
He was almost completely certain that if he took their leader hostage, they would back down, and as he had a clear path towards the alien, minus the occasional blaster fire, he took advantage of it.
He had just reached the dug, who was curled against the crates and moaning in pain, and had aimed his blaster, intent on informing the wretched individual that he was under arrest, before someone finally got smart and threw a grenade.
The smart part was relative, as they threw it towards him and could just as easily have missed and taken out one of their own, but as it was, it sent Piett flying through the air.
He crashed into the floor hard, grimacing at the pain radiating along the side he'd landed on, and jerked his blaster up on to see the pirates dragging their wounded leader back down the hallway towards the landing bay and their ship.
Then he squinted, trying to figure out what the dug had clenched in his hand.
Is that-?
Confused, he reached up to pat his head, only to feel his hair, then looked around to see it was indeed his hat clenched in the alien's paw.
Before they could regroup and advance after the pirates, they had already retreated to their ship and fled.
With his hat!
The medic that treated his deep bruising remarked that he was lucky he hadn't been hurt worse with how close the grenade had been.
He honestly felt more peeved at the loss of his hat than being relieved that he was relatively unscathed despite the pirates' best attempts otherwise.
And while that was the first time Piett lost his hat, it wasn't the last.
To his dismay.
---
The second time he lost his hat was years later and under much less dire circumstances. Which he considered debatable, but nobody asked.
He'd been promoted to Captain, transferred to Death Squadron aboard the Executor herself, and was serving under Admiral Ozzel, who served directly to Lord Vader himself.
It was a position Piett both had strived for and found inhumanly taxing, as the current Admiral sought to make him die from sheer exhaustion, if he couldn't make him quit.
Piett was determined to ignore both options and simply did his job as best as he could, fettered as he was.
But it wasn't all bad, oh, no. He met General Veers, for starters, and after a reluctance to trust that the army man was genuine in his offer of friendship, found himself with a brother in everything but blood.
Perhaps surprising of all was being introduced to the Lady, after realizing that Lord Vader had personally requested his transfer.
The Lady, who turned out to be the growing sentience of a nineteen kilometer Super Star Destroyer.
Really, it was a good thing his sabacc face was practically perfect.
However, having a young intelligence learning from observation proved to have its own problems, especially when one of those observations was learning about playing pranks.
As he found out one too early morning as he was struggling to find his hat on his way out of his quarters to an immediate summoning from Admiral Ozzel for a meeting with other officers regarding their last skirmish. A skirmish that Piett, a Navy officer, had oddly been sent planetside to oversee as one of Ozzel's less circumspect attempts to be rid of him through drowning in a bog.
He still hadn't managed to get the smell of muck out of his boots.
"Lady! I know you moved it, that's fine, I just need it now, please." He looked around frantically, the lights in his quarters flickering to a sheepish pink color.
He let out a low groan. "Lady, did you lose my hat."
The pink deepened.
Piett sighed and straightened his uniform. "You know my other hats were sent to be cleaned after my last mission. Ah, blast."
The lights darkened to an abashed dark rose which faded into a faint indigo.
"I'm not upset, well, perhaps a little, but you're forgiven. I'll just have to weather this without it." He grimaced at the mere thought of going into this meeting hatless, it practically felt like he was violating his entire code of conduct, but he didn't have time to run down to Requisitions to get another one.
He let out a deep sigh before stepping out of his quarters and making his way quickly to the bridge.
The lift was surprisingly slow, making him cast a glance up to the ceiling. "Lady, I promise you that I'm not upset, but please, I cannot be late for this meeting."
The lift remained slow, which struck him as odd. Normally she did as he requested without hesitation, unless he was putting himself in what she calculated as harm's way, so why was she being stubborn now?
The doors opened and he stepped past a lanky, red-haired ensign who was standing just outside the lift, looking slightly perplexed.
"Erm, sir?"
Piett paused, wanting to ignore the question, feeling the pinch of urgency tightening the muscles between his shoulder blades, but he accepted this meeting was already going to be disastrous.
And Ozzel would be more than willing to focus all his misbegotten ire on one overtaxed Imperial captain...
"Yes, Ensign?" He pivoted on one boot heel, unable to completely keep the bite out of his tone, despite his best efforts.
"I was requested to bring this for you immediately, Captain." The ensign held out a freshly-pressed officer's cap.
Piett blinked, staring at the cap in puzzlement before accepting it. "Ah, thank you, Ensign..."
"Scraps, sir," The officer snapped a salute and held it until Piett got over the bewilderment of this event and nodded for the ensign to be dismissed, placing the cap firmly on his head.
The familiar feel had him breathing out a sharp breath of relief.
He didn't know how, but he knew the Lady had managed to work out that little trick, and he was infinitely grateful.
"Thank you," he murmured softly, smiling faintly when his datapad flashed at him.
He took a deep breath before striding into Ozzel's meeting room, gratified to note that he wasn't the only one running tardy, as a few stragglers followed after him, casting bewildered glances back at the lifts.
So they had been delayed as well. To keep Ozzel from venting his frustrations out on a single target. Oh, my gloriously brilliant Lady.
Piett didn't know if he would ever stop being grateful that Lord Vader had transferred him.
And if Veers noticed his oddly crisp cap that wasn't the one he'd worn just this morning and started insufferably smirking about it when neither the Admiral or Lord Vader could see, well, there was a reason why the navy was considered more civilized than their ground-pounding counterparts.
As Piett displayed by studiously ignoring Max's attempts to catch his attention, resolving to remain above any teasing about his lost cap.
He did enjoy when the holographic display glitched during one of Ozzel's droning speeches and refused to display anything right side up, forcing the Admiral to contort in interesting ways in order to point at the correct spots on the map.
---
It became something of a private joke between him and Max. Well, at least on Max's part, anyway. Piett saw no amusement in it, and made his opinion known that his cap was an important aspect of his uniform on multiple occasions, to which Max always replied with the question "But is it worth your life, when you can simply requisition another?"
The answer was always a vehement yes, even if he inwardly knew it was both the truth and just to be obstinate.
In fact, this slight tic of his became so known that even Lord Vader had noticed, after returning his missing cap after Piett had been kidnapped and tortured by Black Sun operatives.
One could also whisper that the Sith Lord had kept the cap for different reasons, but Piett found it best to not ask questions of that sort when the other party involved could read minds.
And he hadn't lost that cap, thank you very much, Veers.
Well, he had momentarily, but as it had been returned, he didn't consider it a loss.
---
The third time he lost his cap was many years, and many unexpected events later.
He still served Lord Vader, but had not only been promoted to Fleet Admiral, he had also been asked to commit treason against the Emperor. On a slightly less harrowing note, Luke Skywalker was Lord Vader's son. Stranger still, Princess Leia Organa was Skywalker's sister, and through some extraordinary circumstances, seemed to have adopted Piett as her own people.
This still bemused him to this day, much to Veers' joint amusement at who was adopting whom and dismay that Piett was so surprised by this, but he was getting better at letting people in.
It was just...hard.
It turned out that an important upside of having a larger support base was that there were loyal and dependable reinforcements waiting if one found himself in a tricky situation, such as being trapped on an Imperial demolition station currently plummeting through the atmosphere of a gas giant, quickly reaching crushing pressures…
With him still aboard.
And being shot at.
"I told you they weren't to be trusted!" Veers yelled as they ducked a barrage of blaster fire that sent sparks raining down on them as they ran across the hangar bay towards the open bay doors.
"And I agreed with you, which is why we asked the Princess to wait as backup!" Piett whirled and snapped off several shots, dropping a few more troopers, but they still kept coming, even as the station hurtled to its doom.
"At least you commed her as soon as our shuttle was destroyed, instead of waiting to see if we could steal one." Veers gave him a push that knocked him out of the way of a falling support beam, sending them both crashing to the ground.
Piett cursed, then scrambled to his feet, making sure Veers was right behind him as they started running again. "Even I'm not that stubborn when trying to keep the princess out of danger!"
"Debatable!" Veers yelled back.
The floor began to slant as the station's artificial gravity faltered, unable to keep up with the failing power and the station's uncontrolled tumble.
Their boots began to skid on the metal surface, unable to get purchase as the whole bay tilted backwards, sending ships, crates, equipment slowly skidding across the floor.
"Kriff!" Piett dodged out of the way as fuel canisters tipped on their side and quickly rolled towards him, then past him towards the still pursuing troopers, even as they struggled for footing.
The floor continued to tilt, making him fall onto his front as he scrambled not to slide backwards.
"Firmus!"
Piett grabbed Veers' arm, letting the bigger man hold him upright below the support beam Veers was clutching, then twisted to aim carefully behind and below…
He felt a flash of remorse as he squeezed the trigger, but they would likely perish anyway, as it was already too late to run for the emergency craft.
Veers swung him to the side as the explosion from the fuel canisters sent debris flying up towards them, but thankfully nothing but heat reached him.
Admiral! We're here!
Relief surged through his body at the very welcome presence in his mind, but even as he made out the distinct form of the Falcon hovering above him.
"Lovely, the cavalry's arrived, and we have no way of reaching it," Veers grumbled, readjusting his grip on Piett's arm.
My dear, we're in a bit of a pinch. Do you have a rope you can lower or something?
The princess' concern was tangible before it suddenly surged. Nothing that would reach, but hold on tight, the station is about to hit turbulence and will likely roll again.
"Max, brace!" Piett had a moment to holster his blaster and grab onto Veers' belt with his free hand as the station suddenly rattled harshly and everything started to roll once more.
Unfortunately, the roll continued on its previous axis, instead of righting itself, sending Piett's orientation scrambling as he hung in midair, suspended from a support beam only by the strength of Veers' grip.
Piett was more than a little unnerved to look down and see his feet dangling over a yawning abyss.
Well, it wasn't quite an abyss, the hangar bay was on the smaller side, but from this height, the fall would most definitely kill him.
A good thing it was Max who grabbed the beam and not the other way around, he mused wryly as the bay continued to roll until they were more aligned with the ceiling than hanging in the middle of the air.
However, now the problem became apparent when he realized that they were now hanging closer to the 'ceiling' than the 'floor'.
It seemed he wasn't the only one to notice this.
"Firmus, if we make it back in one piece, you owe me more than a few drinks," Veers grunted, tightening his grip as gravity continued to exert itself and tried to drag them down towards the ceiling.
While that fall wouldn't kill them, something would most definitely be broken.
"As if you wouldn't just invite yourself over to drink it anyway," Piett ground out as he carefully swung himself towards the beam, letting go of Veers' belt and colliding with the metal with a grunt.
Veers let go of his arm, and with both of them having their hands free, began to shimmy down the beam.
The princess's voice suddenly rang in his mind. There's no time, jump! I'll catch you both!
Piett paused, and around him he could hear the metallic screeching of durasteel bulkheads giving way to the sheer atmospheric pressure, and knew she was right.
"Max! We need to jump!" he called upwards.
It was difficult to make out over the sheer noise, but he heard a groan of dismay.
"Firmus, you can't be serious!"
"The princess will catch us, but we don't have time to climb down!"
"Oh, kark this!"
Piett didn't like it either, but at least he had the warm reassurance his princess was sending him.
Deep breath, dear Admiral, on three.
"Let go on three!"
One!
"Two!"
Three!
Wind whistled through his ears as he fell alarmingly fast, the hard metal floor rushing towards him at speed, and he couldn't help his flinch as it filled his vision.
Princess-!
He whuffed out a harsh breath as he suddenly slammed to a stop mere inches from the floor, Veers cursing as he hovered next to him before they abruptly dropped to the ground.
"A bit more of a gentle landing next time, if you please," Piett wheezed, stiffly clambering to his feet.
"I concur," Veers gasped, struggling upright before they staggered into a lurching run.
I'm sorry for that. Hopefully, there won't be a next time.
Piett agreed heartily with that sentiment.
"Almost there-"
The station gave a mighty scream of rending metal, just as they made it to the edge of the bay.
They both jumped, heat warming their backs as the explosion sent them flying onto the Falcon's lowered ramp.
And as he was sent careening ungracefully onto his hands and knees, Veers grabbing the back of his uniform to keep him from rolling off the ramp, he felt a brisk breeze teasing his hair.
"Oh, for kark's sake…"
He turned around, ignoring the stinging pain in his hands and knees, to stare morosely down at the distinctive form of his hat tumbling down after the burning remains of the demolition station.
"Firmus."
He stiffened but didn't turn around. "Max, don't you dare-"
"Did you have your hat on this entire time, just to lose it now?"
Piett closed his eyes, resisting the urge to let out a loud sigh, got to his feet and stomped past Veers' faint grin, slapping the control for the ramp closed behind him.
"Isn't that your fourth hat?"
"Third, thank you."
"And you say it's not a habit."
"Three hats does not make me losing them a habit, Max!"
---
He'd been trying to cooperate, he really had. He was taking shore leave, relaxing his knee, and was letting his lungs recover from his last bout of illness.
His security team hadn't been happy in the slightest about being ordered to remain on the Executor, but he compromised with the facts that he was accompanied by the General, it was a high-security planet, and he would be on a boat the majority of the time.Therefore, he did not need any additional mother henning, thank you very much.
However, Fleet Admiral Piett reflected that his life bordered on the absurd more times than he thought was necessary, as was particularly apparent when he and Max had been sailing along the coast and had come across a large abandoned warehouse jutting from the shallow waters.
He'd been curious as to what it had been used for, and as it looked so rusted as to practically be one high swell away from falling apart, had managed to coax Max with him to explore.
Piett should have known better, what with his history.
"And you're positive you didn't know anything about a gang hiding out here," Veers hissed as they hid behind stacks of empty barrels, keeping out of sight of the rowdy, rough-looking individuals making their way through the large warehouse.
"I told you, I am on shore leave, per the Doctor's orders! Do you really think I'd take on an entire gang without some sort of reinforcements when I could be sailing instead?" Piett whispered back, gesturing with his blaster for them to move.
Veers gave him A Look. "I do, actually."
"Oh, for-"
Piett moved past Veers with a huff, leading them higher to the catwalks, hoping they could simply skirt around the pirates and make a break back to the boat.
"Here, this way." Veers nodded towards a corridor covered in dirty glass, but if no one looked up, it gave them a straight shot to the rooms on the other side of the warehouse, hopefully leading to a stairwell outside.
"You three, stay and patrol, the rest head back and secure the shipment! We got new buyers coming in tomorrow and we're gonna need every bit of spice we can find!"
Piett frowned, the voice in charge sounding oddly familiar.
He looked, but couldn't make out anything through the thick layer of grime and dust as they hurried along. "Well, that helps cut down the numbers. At least we docked the boat out of sight."
Veers grunted, then started peering through the windows in the doors. "This place is ancient. Who uses hinged doors these days?"
"I imagine it was used for fishing or ship repairs when it was in service," Piett remarked, peering through another door. "My question is how pirates managed to set up a base on a planet that prides itself in security."
Something he would be asking the local officials as soon as they got through this.
They continued to look for the door that led outside, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone came up to the offices.
"Firmus!"
Piett turned at Veers' whisper, moving quietly over to see his friend crouching in front of a door that was surprisingly clean and very new.
Especially with that shiny modern lock keeping it closed.
"The leader's quarters?" Veers asked.
Piett nodded. "We can find evidence of how they made it onto the planet."
Max gave him another Look. "Not your smartest move, Admiral."
Piett resisted rolling his eyes as he snapped the keypad cover open and began fiddling with the wires. "They're spicers. You know how I feel about that."
With a snap and a fizz, the door smoothly slid open, revealing lush and expensive quarters more fit for a king than a spicer gang.
Piett curled his lip in disdain at the opulence then hurried inside, knowing their time was running short. "I'll look in here, you take the other room."
They searched quickly and quietly, and just as Piett was about to start cursing, he spotted a datapad, which, when he turned it on, showed a very convenient list of security patrols.
"Firmus."
Max's voice sounded strained, like he was choking, or…
Piett frowned at the sight of Veers, hunched over and wheezing with barely contained laughter before his friend took a deep breath in a supreme effort to compose himself.
"Please tell me - oh kark - that's yours."
Following Max's finger to the gang leader's display of miscellaneous and macabre trophies, and there, tucked between a Trandoshan skull and the horn of some great beast, was an Imperial officer's hat.
Piett felt his jaw go slack.
His hat.
Sputtering, he reached out and picked it up off its stand, and sure enough, even though the material was faded with age, he recognized it as his.
"But how-"
"I knew it!"
They both whirled to see a dug with black skin and orange markings, glaring at them over the barrel of a blaster.
"I knew I recognized you at the docks this morning!" the dug snarled, stalking closer as he bared his teeth at them. "You're that Imperial trash that ruined my life all those years ago!"
"You tried to overtake a star destroyer by crashing into its hangar bay! How did I ruin your life?!" Piett couldn't raise his blaster, not with the dug having him trained in his sights, but Veers was practically being ignored and was slowly taking advantage of this.
"I made the Kitawen who they were, and I was disgraced after that! I had to run spice solo for years before I could hire more men!" The dug sneered, gesturing to the hat Piett clenched in his fist. "I kept that, as reminder, that one day, I was going to have my revenge on the human who stole my reputation, who tore apart my gang, who shot me in the arm-"
Veers made his move, lunging forwards and kicking the blaster out of the dug's grasp.
Without missing a beat, Piett snapped his blaster up and fired right between the dug's eyes. "You stole my bloody hat, you karker!"
He couldn't fathom why that upset him so much, but it did, blast it all!
The dug dropped like a rock, the blue stun beam vibrantly illuminating the office and he stiffly placed his old cap on his head with a firm tug.
Veers raised an eyebrow at his choice of ammunition, but didn't question it. "I assume the planetary authorities would be very interested in how they managed to maintain a base here. Also found an escape hatch hidden in the wall."
Piett looked around for a rope of some kind before sighing and unbuckling his belt to quickly hog-tie the dug as shouts from the remaining pirates reached them. "Well, that's fortunate. Rare that a criminal's paranoia comes in handy."
Veers smirked and hefted the dug's unconscious form over his shoulder. "After you, Admiral."
Piett kicked out the hatch, then ducked through, feeling zero remorse when he heard the sound of someone's skull smacking against the wall when Veers didn't duck quite low enough. He was still angry about his hat, dammit.
He waited for Max to pass by on the rusty catwalks, then fired several times back through the hatch to discourage their pursuers before jogging after his friend.
They made their way down the rusty stairwell with surprisingly little resistance, which made Piett suspicious that the patrol that had gone ashore was being contacted.
The antique boat waiting patiently for them wasn't exactly built for high-speed pursuits, but it had a motorized engine, which at the time Piett had rented it had caused him some distaste, but now he was grateful for it.
Veers secured their captive with more efficient restraints and Piett gladly took his belt back, slipping it on while noticing the pirates had decided they weren't going to wait for their comrades to return.
"Max, keep them busy while I steer."
"A pity no one thought to bring a grenade," Veers commented with a sharp grin as he fired his blaster at a charging orange-skinned twi'lek, making the being yelp before diving into the water.
"A grenade is not being on shore leave, I'm told!" Piett called as he turned the engine over and pulled in the sails, not wanting any chance of wind drag.
The boat responded beautifully, lunging forwards from the docks as Max fired at a barrel that exploded with purple fire, taking out the last two guards.
"Not very smart pirates, are they?"
Piett snorted. "The first time I encountered this particular gang, they attacked a star destroyer head-on and tried to shoot their way to the bridge. Suffice to say, not particularly."
Two waterskimmers were visible pinpricks in the distance, making him curse silently. The wooden boat would be no match for blaster fire and he had no desire to see the faithful little ship be sunk for matters completely outside its control.
His mind spun quickly, but they really had no armaments or anything that they could use to defend themselves or go on the offensive with.
Then Max's comment struck a chord.
"Max, cover up the dug with a tarp, then get down out of sight." Piett reluctantly took off his cap, stashing it under a bench before ruffling his hair.
Veers shook his head slightly. "You really think they'll fall for something so obvious?"
"I'm thinking you might be more on point than you realize." He rolled his shoulders to lessen the tension and slowed the boat to a stop before fiddling with some ropes, looking busy.
"Oh, how the quality of criminals has lessened," Max commented dryly, but ducked under another tarp.
Alright, let's see how well this works. Piett took a deep breath and fixed his face into a crooked squint, hoping his rough civilian clothing didn't look completely out of place. He winced inwardly at having to drop his hard-won Core accent, but in this particular situation, using it would only be a disadvantage.
The skimmers slowed as they approached the boat, and he ignored them, knotting lines as if he did it every day and being interrupted by a gang was little more than a passing annoyance.
"You see anyone head past you, old-timer?" an obnoxious dressed twi'lek yelled.
Old-timer?! First his hat, now he had to put up with this?
"Do ah loo' like ah give a flyin' kark?" he barked peevishly, heaving a pile of netting onto the suspiciously large lump that was Max.
One of the skimmers hovered closer, the grimy-looking human girl steering it peering over the edge of the boat with vicious suspicion. "What you doing out here, old man?"
"Trying ta find some peace an' quiet ta fish," he huffed and grabbed a crabbing box, tossing towards one of the pirates. The weequay yelped and fumbled with it before throwing it back aboard with a wrinkled nose at the overpowering smell of old fish.
"You hidin' anyone?"
"I dinnae have time for this. If ya cannae see anybody here except me, then tha' be yur problem!" he snarled, stomping back towards the engine. "An' if ya be scarin' t'fish, I ken I willnae be stayin'!"
He kicked the engine on and hurtled past them, the annoyance on his face only somewhat feigned.
To his relief, the pirates only gave him a brief stare as he passed, but didn't pursue.
Either my crotchety performance was just that convincing or they really are brainless. I'm not sure which is more insulting.
"Firmus, I have to ask," Veers started as he unearthed himself from the pile of ropes and sat up. "Is this why you have to be strong-armed into taking vacations?"
Piett let out a surprised chuckle. "Not quite. The daunting pile of flimsiwork that waits for no man, however, is a good deterrent."
"Mm." Max gazed up at him from where he still sat, then grinned lightly. "Well, I guess I can't tease you about losing your hats anymore."
Piett retrieved his old hat from where he'd stashed it and placed it firmly on his head. "Damn straight."
---
The chief of planetary security was quite pleased to have the gang leader dropped in their prison, and even more happy when the dug gave up the weak link that had been exploited without hardly any trouble.
Piett and Veers reluctantly relaxed for the rest of their shore leave, and returned to the Lady with restless eagerness.
Princess Leia was waiting to greet them when they landed in the hangar bay, giving Veers a warm smile before moving to hug her Admiral, then noticed the addition to his wardrobe with a curious frown. "I know you didn't leave with that hat, Admiral of mine."
Firmus smiled and touched the brim to reassure himself. "I did not, but I'll tell you about it, hm? Tea at our usual time?"
She beamed brightly. "I'll look forward to it."
---
And for those curious, Piett never lost another hat.