[A]s Han Solo, always the voice of reason in the series, says, “I'm out of it for a little while, and everyone gets delusions of grandeur.”

Long after his cigar burnt bitter, he sat with eyes fixed on the blaze. When the flames at last began to flicker and subside, his lids fluttered, then drooped; but he had lost all reckoning of time when he opened them again to find Miss Erroll in furs and ball-gown kneeling on the hearth and heaping kindling on the coals, […]

[…] They blame the Favourites in point of Policy, and think it nothing extraordinary, that the Queen ſhould be at an end of Her Patience, and reſolve to diſcard them.

I'm just a bit possessive of him, but don't get me wrong. I'm not so sure I'd kill the groupies that he tags along. It's really not his fault they're there, but that don't mean a thing— I'm still the one he's with, the only one to whom he sings.