(Untitled)

[rebel_falcon]

There's a pilot at a table, long legs stretched out and expression tired. And grumpy.

They seem to be missing an Alderaan, and hiding in the storage compartments waiting for stormtroopers to search the ship -- his ship -- his baby -- his Falcon! -- is making Han more than a little twitchy.

Comments

[fighter__pilot]

Shalla is watching Han thoughtfully from a few tables over, and has been for awhile.

She does intend to approach him at one point, but she feels that going, 'O hay General Solo,' isn't exactly the way to do it.

[rebel_falcon]

People watching Han make him even twitchier.

She gets a narrow-eyed glare.

"What?"

[fighter__pilot]

Oh, she probably should have seen that coming.

"Nothing. Wasn't sure if y'were who I thought y'were."

He is.

[rebel_falcon]

"Probably ain't," Han informs her, regarding her suspiciously. "What's stoppin y'askin?"

[fighter__pilot]

"Timelines," she answers promptly. "But 's okay. Y'don't know me, so I don't know you. Mistaken identity."

[rebel_falcon]

Han wrinkles his nose.

"You another daughter?"

Hey, you have to watch out for things like that here.

[fighter__pilot]

Shalla rolls her eyes.

"Not likely. 'm Shalla."

[rebel_falcon]

"Han."

[fighter__pilot]

She gives him a vague salute that's a lot less sloppy than it normally would be.

"Pleasure. Want a drink?"

[rebel_falcon]

Han looks even more suspicious at the salute, but he shrugs, leaning back in his chair and propping his boots on the table.

"Sure. Ain't gonna complain about beautiful women buyin' me drinks anywhere in the 'verse."

[fighter__pilot]

Shalla grins and waves down a waitrat.

"Whyren's okay?"