[ mid-pour, han glances at his friend. when he got his hands on the bottle is something better left unasked. because despite the blasterfire sizzling holes into the walls and tables around them, han has his blaster on his lap while he fills his glass up to the brim. ]

This is Corellian whiskey! [ he shouts back. a shot comes particularly close, digging into the bar to his left and leaving a smoking hole. han barely reacts. ] You know how hard it is to find authentic Corellian whiskey outside Corellia?!

[ corellia produced a lot of things — renowned pilots, the best vessels in the galaxy ( his prized falcon is of corellian make. ) any native-born son of corellia has many reasons to be proud of his home. han picks the whiskey. ]