STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

[avali]

STAR WARS CALL OUT POST:
STEP 1: pick a muse
STEP 2: leave a comment with their name in the subject line, pictures, words or all of the above
STEP 3: profit

Comments

thank you thank you it's the best prompt I've ever given

[pilot]

[ 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. ]

[skyfeets]

I don't-- [Luke stops short, flattening with a clipped yelp against the table in front of him, nearly slapping his forehead against the edge as a bolt goes blazing right past. Pops up half a second later, hair mussed up and gone entirely lopsided where it's heaped over itself.]

I don't care what kind of drink it is, it's not worth dying for! [Not even their shipment was worth that much, if it was ever actually worth anything at all. Another set of shots ring out-- at least until the heat sensor of Luke's blaster snaps on, engaging the cooling mechanism. Hisses between his teeth as he gives it a pointless little shake.

He managed to clip the arm of at least one of them, but there's enough shouting that it seems like more have to be on the way.]

[pilot]

[ wowowowow. does he talk about the force like that? ( yes. )

wearing an expression that would have stood the rest of luke's hair on end if it could, han takes an angry sip. luke's wrong about the whiskey, but he's right that things have gotten hairy even by han's standards. so he's pissed off a few people in the galaxy. it takes a special kind of coward to go after a man relaxing in a bar.

he's begun to worry a stray shot might hit the glass or worse the bottle. and okay, he'll be really mad if luke gets shot because some trigger-happy sleemo can't aim for the broad side of a star destroyer. throwing his head back, he drains the glass. after stoppering it, han tucks the bottle inside his vest. the empty glass goes flying to his left. as the blaster fire is drawn to the brief flash of light in the mostly dark establishment, han dives to the right and squeezes off two shots of his own. one of their assailants dives behind cover in time; the other is flattened out by the blast. ]

Get to the door, kid! I'll cover you! --Hey! [ before luke can run off, han is shoving the bottle into his arms. ] Not a spilled drop!

[skyfeets]

[He nags because he cares. Because he knows there's a whole galaxy out there full of awful and good people alike that have issues with the name Han Solo-- and sometimes with entirely justified reasons. But more than all that, he nags because he believes without a single doubt aside from that one time he may have been disappointed and said some things he didn't mean Han is a good man. A good friend.

Just...one that has terrible priorities.

The bottle presses squarely into the center of his chest as Han foists it on him; Luke nearly fumbles his blaster in the process, which is-- fine. It's fine. If Han's got him covered, he won't need to use it half as much as he is now. Swaps the container to his left arm, right firm in its refound grip. Thins his lips in a stern frown for half a beat at the reminder (excuse you) before he's off, darting from cover like he means it.

Their ships aren't far: the port's in the center of town, and if they're quick enough getting out with both the Falcon and his own x-wing shouldn't be a problem. At least until he gets to the back door and nearly runs face-first into someone else's fist (doesn't even have time to register what is swinging for him before he has to duck) nearly spilling half the bottle in the process if not for how his hand's clapped hard over the lid.]

--Han!

[pilot]

[ as if to stubbornly prove without a shadow of a doubt that his priorities are at best skewed and at worst completely inverted, han does not run after luke. he jumps to the bar, free hand closing around another amber bottle. his success is cut short by luke's shout. turning around, han catches sight of the gnarled weequay taking another swing at luke. ]

— HEY!

[ a bottle of beer flies at the alien's face. amazingly, it does not shatter on his head but on the floor. the weeguay drops. han has reached them two seconds later, his blaster out and ready, and another bottle of whiskey tightly clasped between his thumb and forefinger. he snags luke by the back of his shirt and tries to haul him along. tries because he's a little distracted between keeping an eye on who's still shooting at them and not dropping the bottle he's risking life and limb for. ]

Luke! Time to go!

[skyfeets]

I'm going, I'm going! [Was going. Is still. All technicalities in the face of--

One foot out the door, tugged along by his collar (shooting fairly consistently, proven by the outburst of sparks on the opposite end of the cantina) Luke twists against his heel as he catches sight of that glinting gold liquid. Barks out, brow immediately dropping:] -- Another one?!

[There's not even a shadow of a doubt that there's some judging going on, Han, good buddy, good pal. That's stealing way beyond the glass Han already paid for.

Probably paid for.

Oh no he didn't leave any credits behind at all, did he.]

[pilot]

[ not even two credits to rub together :D ]

I'm the one getting shot at! [ he somehow manages to sound patently offended. as if they weren't in the middle of a firefight and instead a debate, and han's character was being unfairly maligned. ] I deserve this!

[ outside, he's nearly blinded by the abrupt change in lighting. not enough so to miss the main road, the one that would take them directly to their docking bays, being rapidly blocked off. definitely not enough to miss the glint of sunlight on white armor as a patrol is drawn to the sound of the commotion. ]

That's not good. [ he spots a side road that's still clear — and flinches when a bolt burns into the wall next to his head. ] We'll have to take the long way! Come on!