Officer Hot Stuff is in love...
"You're incredible! I wasn't expecting this size or strength!"
"I love you. I only wish I could spend more time with you..."
Now, just replace the "you" with "The Death Star" and you'll get a sense as to how the breakfast went. It involved its share of passionate glances, gentle stroking, and whispering sweet nothings. This would have been absolutely incredible if I was, in fact, a handheld holopad that projected "Death Star" technical plans. However, I'm not nearly that convenient to hold and the only projection I can provide is so random stuttering around Officer Hot Stuff, so things were not terribly exciting for me. Breakfast basically consisted of me intruding on Officer Hot Stuff's rather intimate exchange with the "Death Star" plans.
I would have felt more satisfied had I either slept in or ordered the pay-per-view holo of Slave Twi'Lek Love Camp Babes 4. In fact, either of those choices probably would have left me much more emotionally fulfilled than having been the third wheel beween my dream woman and a hologram of a planet-destroying space station.
After 30 minutes of this fiasco, Officer Hot Stuff had to leave for her hanger bay duties. Her eyes locked on to the holographic "Death Star" main gun as she said, "I wish I could be with you instead of here." The holographic "Death Star", hopeless romantic that it is, kept its dignity by maintaining a stoic silence. She switched off the holopad and held it in her hand for a moment, the leather of her gloves squeeking across the pad's metal base. This noise is generally very irritating, which is why I have taken to removing my Imperial issue gloves when examining the plans; however, it was a pleasant relief to hear something other than a sappy conversation between a beautiful hanger bay officer and a piece of metal.
Officer Hot Stuff stood up, handed me the holopad, and tugged her drab grey uniform straight to smooth out (and accentuate) the wrinkles in all its form-fitting glory. By this time, I was too dejected to even appreciate this sexy little gesture. She turned to leave, then took a step back and said, "Thanks for letting me check this baby out. I'll see you around," before lightly patting my shoulder and sauntering off to the mess hall elevator.
Now remember, this should have been a monumental nanosecond in my life - the first true physical contact between the Grumpy Moff and Officer Hot Stuff. Instead, I merely got up and walked to my office. The rest of the morning was spent contemplating how I could possible spin this to make me look cool when the turbolaser crew inevitable interrogated me about it.