Han realizes he's rather broke, right now, as he pushes himself up to at least a sitting position on the floor (once Wade has stepped aside, of course). It's a good first step. Standing will come...eventually.
Han's spent his whole life dealing with those who might not be on the 'good' side of the law. Hell, he's not on the 'good' side of the law himself. It takes one to know one.
"Thanks," and once he's up, with the guy's help, he dusts the snow off and starts peeling off the outer layers. Scarf, parka, gloves, and the like.
"Nope," and the jacket is hung on the back of a chair and he rubs at his hands. "Ain't dead, just cold. Hoth's an ice planet, all it is, ice. And a couple'a rocks here and there."
Not to mention constant meteorites falling from the sky and killer wampas and oh yes, snowstorms.
Han laughs at that. "I don't live anywhere, really. Travel a lot, from place to place, on my ship." He accepts the glass and lifts it in turn, then takes a good sized swallow to let it burn down into his stomach.
Nothing like a good whiskey to warm the inside right up.
Han grins a little bit, because this is his ship, this is the Falcon they're talking about, and he likes this topic more than most anything. "Originally a light freighter, with some extra modifications I put in myself."
Another sip of the whiskey (which drains the glass, but Han taps on the Bartop and she provides two more) and then he continues.
"Mostly transport goods these days. Depends. You could say I'll transport anything if you pay me enough. Except slaves. I don't do slavery."
"Ain't dead down there, are you?"
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He doesn't really care. Of course he'd rather not be dead, but at least he isn't on Hoth anymore.
"T'cold t'give a shit."
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His lips twitch.
"Whiskey'll fix that right up."
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Han realizes he's rather broke, right now, as he pushes himself up to at least a sitting position on the floor (once Wade has stepped aside, of course). It's a good first step. Standing will come...eventually.
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A beat and he offers a hand; playing the part of the good Samaritan amuses him.
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"Thanks," and once he's up, with the guy's help, he dusts the snow off and starts peeling off the outer layers. Scarf, parka, gloves, and the like.
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Eyeing the layers, "Don't tell me hell froze over and I missed it."
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Not to mention constant meteorites falling from the sky and killer wampas and oh yes, snowstorms.
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He places a hand on the counter and orders two whiskeys. When the glasses appear, he slides one over and lifts his own.
"You live there?"
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Han laughs at that. "I don't live anywhere, really. Travel a lot, from place to place, on my ship." He accepts the glass and lifts it in turn, then takes a good sized swallow to let it burn down into his stomach.
Nothing like a good whiskey to warm the inside right up.
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"So the water ain't frozen?"
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"That right?"
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A glance at the Bar. "Would you, sweetheart?"
Bar, helpfully, provides a photo which he passes over to Ben.
"That planet in the background there, that's Coruscant. All city, the entire thing. Those lines are the lights from the buildings and the traffic."
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"Well, now."
He takes another sip of his drink, then hands back the photo with a quiet, disbelieving chuckle.
"Fine boat you got there - you captain her?"
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Han grins a little bit, because this is his ship, this is the Falcon they're talking about, and he likes this topic more than most anything. "Originally a light freighter, with some extra modifications I put in myself."
Another sip of the whiskey (which drains the glass, but Han taps on the Bartop and she provides two more) and then he continues.
"Mostly transport goods these days. Depends. You could say I'll transport anything if you pay me enough. Except slaves. I don't do slavery."
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