fulfilling a promised lesson on the fine art of blasting things ...

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Walking back to the Millennium Falcon through the Nexus has gotten a little bit easier each time.  The first time, it took him more than an hour to get back despite the fact that his ship has always been parked about a thousand yards away from a path that leads to the forum.  The shiftable nature of this place makes no walk to and from anywhere as straightforward as it seems, but you can get used to it.

 

For a while, he cleans up the areas that he thinks both he and Verity are likely to be in for a while - the cockpit and the lounge especially, but also near the entry ramp and the living quarters.

 

He did promise lessons on how to fly and in due course, he will get her into the sky with him ... but he's still doesn't have a ton of fuel yet and the priority was always teaching her how to use the blasters.  So he's pulled four weapons out of the storage lockers, completely disassembled them and cleaned them.  He also discharges all, but one, of the plasma magazines.

 

They get placed them on top of the holochess board, which, sadly, is among one of the biggest flat surfaces available to him on the YT-1300 and then, he takes a shower and slips into a light weight pair of pants.  It seems to take a long time for him to drift off in the small bunk that he's claimed for himself.  The sound of the winter wind skips across the surface of his ship and makes a low howling sort of sound.

 

This is one of the reasons it's always preferable to put your ship in a proper hanger, but, when you're Han Solo, you work with what you got.  After a few hours he wakes up, not knowing what time it is, until he opens the entry ramp and looks outside.

 

It seems too early for her to arrive.  The sun hasn't even reached the apex of it's path yet, so he decides to lay back down.  Leaving the ramp down for her to facilitate her letting herself in. 

Comments

[twelve_not_fourteen]

The truth is, at this age, Han is very conflicted about both sides. He hoped to become a legitimate, respectable citizen by joining the military at one point in his life. His brief time in the Navy allowed him to appreciate just how terrible the Empire really is. On the other hand, he has an intensely personal reason to hate the Rebels right now and not likely to have those feelings resolved anytime soon.

"In the crate on the left of the tank, the one secured to the wall, is where the bulk of the non-vital medical supplies. We have a few more by the sink, though."

[brave_heart_verity]

A man usually looks good in uniform, but it has to be the right uniform. Sometimes good people do bad things, and sometimes people doing good things also do bad things. Life is complicated, but having no skin in the game, she's only got opinions on abstracts. Maybe someday he'll give her the deets.

Is he surprised anymore that she's checking to make sure she knows where these things are? She hopes not. Once she's satisfied that she can identify things, she turns to him with another smile. "Looks good. Thank you for being patient."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

They walk through other segments of the ship and he highlights things that he things might be worth her time to know, though, much of the bow of the ship is full of a lot of cargo spaces, loading doors and access panels to the electrical and fuel systems.

The port side? She's pretty well seen too. The cramped living quarters she found him in. That's going to petty well glossed over by him.

The next stop of a little more significance is the lounge and the kitchen, which, is where she'll find the holochess board with all the dissembled weapons he has layed out for later. The kitchen area is fairly small. Literally an alcove in the wall. It has something that resembles a microwave, a burner and a sink. Not much else.

"This is where I end up burning all my food."

[brave_heart_verity]

Cargo storage isn't quite so interesting unless he lets her do it like she's playing Tetris. If all the doors have the same code, it'll be good practice for her. Access panels might as well have a big 'do not touch Verity Willis' sign on them.

The kitchen gets a brief looking-over before she guesses, "Nobody ever taught you to cook?"

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"Ironically, for all the free time I would spend in a kitchen as a kid, I managed to pick up not a damn thing."

Not that much of his time was unaccounted for at that age. Still, he always wanted to be around Dewlana, when he could sneak away.

"My specialty is burning the outside of the food while still managing to leave the inside raw."

[brave_heart_verity]

They both had their reasons for gravitating to the kitchen as a child and got as close as possible to what they needed out of it.

"Very impressive, but I think we can do a little better than that." She'd be happy to teach him, but she somehow doubts he'd want to put much time in. Patience is hard to learn and harder to teach. "I think I mentioned you'll eat well when I'm with you?" She's not going back on that.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Now that's not true, Ver.

Han will put is time in to what interests him. He maintains his ship and makes sure his shots stay sharp, both considerable sinks in his time. He's about to begin a long con on the nexus gambling circuit, that's going to take a few weeks to pay off for him.

And there's you, that he's investing in.

"Now that you bring that up, it does sound familiar."

[brave_heart_verity]

The fact he'll work hard on the things he cares about is not in question, that's obvious. But she's aware there are a finite number of hours in a day, and not everything can be an equal priority. Maintaining his ship, maintaining his various skills, finding work so he can get home, finding home... all more important than learning the five mother sauces. But she might be able to show him a few tricks to make things more palatable, and if he finds he likes cooking, she'll be happy to teach him more.

She can only hope it's worth the investment he's making in her.

"And I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. Shall I fetch our meal?" Maybe now it's her turn to show off a little.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Lack of hours in the day and only so much Han Solo to conquer the learnable skills. It's not for lack of wanting to better himself or to give his poor co-pilot a break from making their food. It will be a matter of trying to fit it in somewhere among all the other things.

He hasn't really gotten to the stern side of the ship, in terms of their tour, but that's alright by him. He's plenty hungry and was ready for a glass of water after all this talking. Plus, he's reasonably sure all the sublight engines and the hyperdrive will still be there after they're done.

"Sure." He says with a nod. "That sounds good by me. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Besides, you know, finding a flat surface for them to eat on.

[brave_heart_verity]

This is why ships have crews. Nobody can do it all alone, and the people who try end up dead and miserable.

She hopes the tour isn't over, but she knows she has a habit of asking too many questions and also that he's probably hungry after having been asleep. Everything will go even better after a meal, she's sure of it.

"Just find someplace for us to sit." She heads off to the port side ramp, and yes, she remembers how to get out. The picnic basket is right where she left it, and she can brush off most of the snow before heading back in.

"Here we are. I have sandwiches, pasta salad, some grapes and oranges, and pita chips. And some of that ale you were enjoying last night." Or something like it. Close enough. "One sandwich is fig and prosciutto and the other is pulled pork with red onion relish, but I wrapped the halves separately so you can try some of both if you'd like."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

For a moment Han ponders where they can eat. Objectively speaking, the falcon's design is one of purpose and it's not like it's a cruise vessel. You can adapt and get by, but it not very suited to something like this, entertaining someone that is.

Then he has the idea that if he finds three crates of the right height, they can fashion a table and chair set up out of those without messing up his arrangement of firearms. So, that's what he sets out to do while Ver gets the food. Even when he's not hauling anything, one of the things they don't usually lack for around here are crates.

As Verity herself must have noticed, while observing and asking questions that occured to her, comparing their two universes is like like looking through an unrefined Felucian crystal; most of what you're seeing remains recognizable in some form, as you look beyond the twisted hairline fractures, though dirt and impurity makes some of it impossible to recognize.

Generally speaking, that's how Han feels about the food here. Most of it is recognizable to him in some degree. The names of things, though, what they might call them in her galaxy is unfamiliar to him. As such, most of her menu goes right over his head, except ale. He's familiar with the word 'ale' quite well.

"It sounds like a lot." He says, partly because it does (expecially to a guy who generally eats cold food from a container) and partly because he doesn't have a lot of understanding of what all that is until he sees it.

"I appreciate you going to the trouble for it."

[brave_heart_verity]

Comparing universes is kind of nice for her. It's a safe way to think about what's gone, and it's comforting to know that some ideas carry on in other places. But the differences are comforting in their own way; places too close to home sometimes rub her the wrong way, forcing her to focus on what's gone instead of trying to move on. Feeling comfortable moving around in a place that's alien to her is the best she can hope for.

"It's no trouble, and I enjoy doing it." The impromptu table setup must meet with her approval because she puts the basket down and starts unpacking it. He'll see it's not a huge meal, but generous. "Besides, you're worth it."

Since he didn't show a preference, she'll hand him half of the fig and prosciutto sandwich. "Try this. It's salty and a little sweet."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

He'd be happy to know that she's comfortable in a space that is very specific to him. Or, more generally, that he can be comforting to her. Han would never consider that a personal strength of his, but at his core, he's actually pretty empathetic and emotial. You wouldn't necessarily expect that out of a slightly narcissistic space cowboy.

A large volume of food would have ultimately gone to waste. It's more, the variety of food that she came with that impresses him. She brought him lots to try. Though he's not savant of cullinary art, he does understand the concept of affection shown though food.

He is currently feeling pretty appreciated by her clear attention and effort.

"Worth it, huh?"

He does accept the sandwich and will begin to walk away while unwrapping it. Not to be rude at all, but ... though most of this appears to be finger food, the cold pasta salad is not. So, he's up to get what they need in terms of flatware and possibly glasses, maybe some power towels too.

That said, it's not going to keep him from taking that first bite, just 'cause he's up and walking around. Let's face it, his general attitude toward life isn't really to wait for something he wants. Right now? He wants food.

[brave_heart_verity]

She'll likely be comfortable back in his far-away galaxy once she gets a handle on the languages and customs. He is what makes her comfortable now. He's kind and patient and even the narcissism is welcome. Loki was notoriously into himself, but also secretly sweet and self-deprecating. It's a kind of relationship she's very familiar with. (Not that she's looking to replace Loki; she just has a type.)

"Of course." She wouldn't do it if she didn't think it was worth doing.

The great thing about a picnic basket is, it comes packed with things like forks and napkins. So they're going to have a plethora. But for a moment, she's waiting, trying to watch his reaction to the first bite. Not that she's nervous or anyt--okay, yeah, she's a little nervous.

Are the sandwiches wrapped in half size or as one sandwich cut in half?

[twelve_not_fourteen]

See? This is why he needs to keep her around, not that he was looking for another reason. She thinks of things like forks. Han is the kind of guy who throws out the container of his food and, when he realized he has no idea what he doing, goes back to the garbage to try and read the directions after the fact.

The fine details get missed at times.

Anyway, he does not have to go anywhere, but, still heads right for the sandwich. Not unlike the previous metaphor illudes to, as he chews, his mind seems to wander instantly to 'what does this remind me of from home' instead of really appreciating the taste. At least, at first. Cured meat and fruit exists where he comes from, after all, just not specifically figs or pigs.

So, the initial reaction she'll get is Han's look of trying to sort out what it reminds him of. Then he's taking a few more bites that come along with smiles in between. Clearly, enjoying what he's tasting.

Each half is wrapped separately. Sorry I wasn't clear.

[brave_heart_verity]

Verity is very organized, it's true. He would not believe the lists she has. She has lists of lists so that she can make sure she has all her lists before she starts making more lists. The urge to know where everything is and how things will get done got a lot worse after she couldn't save her world, but she's aware enough of the problem to know it bothers people so she tries to keep it to herself. Still. Don't ever go poking around her desk at home, it will be a listalanche.

All sandwiches are really just variations on a theme. She's not expecting to give him a whole new understanding of food and its place in the universe. So long as he thinks it's yummy, she's happy. Once he's smiling, she relaxes enough to unwrap her half of the sandwich as well. So he likes sweet with another flavor. She can do that.

"Good job with the table, by the way. I love modular design." She knows so many ways to make something sound good.

Could have easily been me not getting it. It's been known to happen. ;)

[twelve_not_fourteen]

He does like sweet with a counterbalance - especially bitter. Sweet on it's own gets cloying for him very quickly. He never got a lot of dessert growing up, so, Han never quite grew the fondness that other people have.

When he chews enough to make sounds again, which, by the way is after he's inhaled the sandwich. He sort of laughs that laugh of self amusement people do from time to time. Not entirely sure if she's teasing him, he volunteers the following admission, "believe or not, I'm sorta known for coming up with things on the fly."

Also, there's beer and he's thirsty. Gonna help himself to a can of that after unconsciously licking his thumb and forefinger clean.

So long as it's all cool now.

[brave_heart_verity]

She might be teasing a little, but she's also sincere. Excess had caused a lot of problems where she's from; she truly does love seeing people recycling and farming organically and all those kinds of things. It's smart and it's practical, two of her favorite traits.

"An excellent talent to have." Another one she envies. She doesn't want to hope for a crisis in which to prove herself, but she does secretly hope someday she'll believe she's getting better. While he's getting a drink she slides half of the pork and onion sandwich over to him. "This one has stronger flavors and is a little spicy."

A good pulled pork is always a little spicy, but she kept it to a low heat this time. Not everyone likes it and not every culture values it. The sourdough and onion relish help cut the heat nicely.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

One of the things he'll have a hard time readjusting to back home is drinking (especially alcohol) at room temperature again. He's noticed a lot of the beverages here are chilled or straight up cold. Makes it a little nicer going down, he has to admit. It become more like refreshment and less like the cure to soberness or thirstiness as applicable.

A curious thing happens when he eats the pork sandwich though. He looks really surpised by it, rather than musing. He bites again. The spices remind him of home. Not just, something from somewhere in his galaxy. His actual home. Corellia. Savory and spicy.

He chews as fast as he can so he can put down the sandwich and tell her so. "This is kinda what food from my planet tastes like. Though, a bit hotter." There is a distinct tone of fondness in the message.

[brave_heart_verity]

Room-temperature drinks are going to take some getting used to for her, too. She's been spoiled by convenient refrigeration.

His surprise rouses her own, and once she finishes the bite she was on she waits to hear what's up. Then she smiles the biggest smile he's seen from her yet. It practically screams 'ah ha!' for her. "Oh yeah? I'll keep that in mind. Food where I'm from was often spicy too, sometimes much much hotter than this."

New list: spicy foods to try with Han.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

The struggle will be real. No doubt. You don't know what you take for granted till it's suddenly not there.

There's a balance for Han. He's not the guy who wants his food so spicy he can't taste anything else but burning anymore, but, he does like heat. It's comforting to him.

He'll pick up the sandwich half and finish that off too. A little bit slower than the last one, but with even more appreciation.

[brave_heart_verity]

She's noticed.

It's a balance she wants to learn about. She's not going to be taking him to Arizona chili cook-offs anytime soon; she might not even let Clint try cooking for him. (And yes, her brother can cook. A few things.) But there'll be barbecue and maybe some curry in their future.

When they've finished their sandwiches she nudges one of the containers of salad his way. Hawaiian macaroni salad usually goes over well. "So where did you learn to pilot?" She thinks this will be a safe and pleasant topic during their meal.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Yeah, suppose that she would, wouldn't she?

A safe and pleasant topic it is not, though, with how much he seems to love talking about being a pilot, she'd have every reason to think that it was. Thought of it seems to bring him down a peg or two from and he looks at the container of macaroni like it would somehow tell him what to say.

Han takes a somewhat turbulent breath in to try to steady himself. "... my earliest memories of any significance are of living as street trash." There are a few feelings and he thinks he remembers an image of his mother, too, but they're not fully realized. In fact, after all this time, he could just be imagining the life before the Trader's Luck.

Anyway, he takes a sip of beer and continues. "I think I was four or so, eventually, I got adopted by a real mean bastard who ran his own ship. He had a small crew and a couple other kids he took under his wing besides me."

"Everybody had to pull their weight. Small children had to be able to beg or steal and Captain Shrike had a quota for each of us, the bigger ones had to be able to do manual labor. I always knew that, if I could learn how to fly ... eventually I'd be able to finally live my own life."

He doesn't know why he's telling her all this and, of course, there is more to the story, but that's the abridged version anyway. Every word of it true. Doesn't really tell her the where, but, he might get to that part in time.

[brave_heart_verity]

The macaroni has nothing to say on the subject. But it is creamy and full of carrots, so that's something. The macaroni's really got it all figured out.

Verity's just going to be over here internally kicking herself for bringing it up. This is going on the 'do not discuss' list. She listens without comment, watching him from beneath her lashes for clues about what to do. A hand on the table between them, palm up and open, is a good invitation without pushing.

"I'm sorry. I'm lousy at small talk. But I'm real glad you got out."

[twelve_not_fourteen]

"How could you have known?" He says with a shrug, though he does settle his hardened hand in hers. The touch is at least a little bit comforting and he finds that's wanting of that right now.

He swallows. At this point, there's not much more that get's her to the 'how' part of it.

"I read as many books as I could get my hands on about flying. I think there was a somewhat permissive attitude of it because it might have made me a more useful crew member."

There's a slight improvement in his mood when he gets to this part of the tale. "Turned out, I had a gift for piloting the land speeder bikes where I come from and at that point, they stopped making me steal. We'd move from planet to planet and I would work the young amateurs racing divisions under several different names. I'd rack up prize money, while they were betting on me. Ended up making a good chunk of change, for a while."

"What my talent in racing bought me was a lot of unsupervised time away from my Captain's watchful eye. I needed time to scout the other racers and tracks that they would run the races on. Needed time to practice. Time I spent learning what I could about flying a real ship."

Han, with his free hand, finishes his beer and replaces it back on their makeshift table.

"I still hardly knew what I was doing when I finally did get a way. I wouldn't say I really was much of a pilot for the first year or two."