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Tech stepped up behind his wife at the sink in their kitchen and lowered his chin to her shoulder as his hands found her waist. “I have been thinking.”
“I would be worried if you weren’t.”
“Laaaynaaa…”
“I’m sorry, my dearest Tech,” Layna said as she wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face him. “What is it you’ve been thinking about?”
“When Hunter and I go on supply runs and we attempt to sell some of the items we have in excess from our two homes’ collective homesteading efforts, there is always one item that comes back with very little sales.”
Layna glanced over to a small stack of crates in the corner, each filled with bottles of condensed sap from a nearby stand of trees. “Well, it can’t be the syrup. That’s our best seller.”
Tech gave a playful roll of his eyes. “Omega seems to think we need to market that particular product better.”
“Okay,” she walked over to her reason for needing to wash up and began wiping the gourd and berry mash from their daughter’s blond—and now partially purple—hair. “You tell me the plan while I work on this mushy mess. Echa is enjoying her meals through her scalp lately.”
Tech smiled fondly at their one-year-old and scrunched his nose. “So it would seem. However, there is no need for concern. She is growing at the normal rate for a child of thirteen months. I am certain that enough of her food is getting where it belongs.”
Layna booped the tiny nose in front of her. “Your daddy has become distracted by you again. Blondes have that effect on him sometimes. But don’t you worry. He’ll remember that he was talking about syrup soon.”
“You are quite ridiculous at times, Mesh’la. But you are correct. Echa is one of my three favorite blonde distractions.” He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Omega believes that if we were to label the syrup bottles with something that would catch the eye, perhaps with a tongue-in-cheek name and an interesting graphic, we would be able to earn more credits from our sap-tapping endeavors.”
Layna resisted the urge to comment on the splendid rhyme that was sapping and tapping. “What did you have in mind?”
“There is…one name that came to mind immediately, but I was afraid you might find it in poor taste—no pun intended.”
Layna’s eyes widened. “No. You aren’t seriously suggesting—”
“Murder Syrup as a name? Yes. That is exactly what I am suggesting.”
Layna laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. Murder Syrup was the name they had given to the delicious product from the rebel base on Dantooine that also happened to be a sap-production farm. When Layna was nearly killed at that base by a vengeful rebel who blamed her for atrocities she unwittingly committed while serving in the Empire, the substance was henceforth known to the pair as Murder Syrup. It was a source of both mirth and bad memories.
“I am glad you find this so amusing. I was afraid that you would be opposed to the idea due to the reasoning behind the name.”
“Tech, we lived through that chapter of our lives and came out on top with a baby and a home surrounded by tip-yips and gill-goats. If ‘Murder Syrup’ is what it takes to sell the syrup we work so hard to make, then ‘Murder Syrup’ it is. But why that name?”
Tech held up his finger, and Layna smiled. She knew there was a logical explanation coming her way.
“There is a good reason for using that name. At the various markets we rotate through, Hunter and I noticed that many of the products had names that were not easy to forget. I have seen packages of Bantha Biscuits, bags of Death Sticky Toffee, cans of Tauntaun Treacle, and tubes of something called Engine Grease, which upon further examination seem to be nothing more than a shelf-stable caf concentrate.”
Layna shook her head. “Those names obviously work. I’ve seen each of those items in Hunter and Omega’s pantry,” she noted with a giggle.
“Precisely. Omega’s thought was to create a label that says, ‘Murder Syrup: Killer Sweetness in a Bottle.’ She also had the idea of putting a drawing of Echa on the label under the name, as people are drawn to products with chubby younglings on them.”
Layna looked over at their giggling toddler, who had, in the time they had been talking, removed one of her little autumn leaf-themed stockings and was attempting to chew a hole in the toe end.
“Maybe we could draw Echa holding a little vibroblade…” she contemplated slowly.
Tech tilted his head at the thought and smiled. A label with a baby wielding a vibroblade would certainly make people look twice. “In addition to being unbearably pretty, you are exceedingly clever, my Layna. It is no wonder I love you.”
“Teeeeeech! I love you too! For the same reasons.”