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| - Admiral Ackbar, as anybody of his rank would be, has been a busy being as of late -- but not busy enough that he cannot make time to slip back to Calamari to check on Han Solo. Ackbar has been concerned for the Corellian ever since having had to relay the unpleasant news that the Wookiee Chewbacca is presumed dead, shot down over Etti IV; seeing how Solo took that news was enough to prompt Ackbar to leave secret orders with one of the guards who watched over the Solo suite to keep a sharp eye on the Corellian and personally report to Ackbar on Solo's condition. The lieutenant in question has dutifully reported in that in the days since Ackbar's last visit, Han Solo has yet to emerge from the apartment he shares with Princess Leia... and Ackbar has yet to cease being worried about him. As soon as he is able, the Calamari Admiral makes another visit to the Solo suite.... The guard has changed this morning -- evidently the lieutenant and the ensign have the evening shift. Now, there's a young Calamari bearing the rank insignia of a lieutenant junior grade and another young human, this one a curly-haired fellow, also an l.j.g. The pair of them salute smartly, and as ordered, ring into the suite. It takes a few moments before the door slides open and an irritable-looking, disheveled Han Solo is revealed, already scowling and snapping out sternly, "Listen, you kids, didn't I--" But he cuts off at the sight of the Admiral. Ackbar nods. "Good morning, Captain. Might I come in?" Han eyes the Admiral warily, with more than a little nervousness visible in his gaze -- perhaps in reaction to the _last_ time Ackbar set foot in this suite. But he hastily jerks his regard away and mutters, "Yeah... yeah, sure...." The Corellian turns, and shoves a hand through his rumpled hair before stumbling back to the couch in the middle of the main room. Ackbar enters the suite from outside. Ackbar has arrived. If anything, Han Solo looks noticeably more rumpled than the last time Ackbar saw him; the man certainly looks no more rested, and from the smell of coffee that pervades the room, it's a safe bet that he's been going out of his way to keep himself awake. The low table which is surrounded by the semi-circle of a couch is littered with hardcopy printouts and datacards; in the middle of it sits the datapad that the Admiral had given Solo, and here and there throughout the clutter are assorted disposable cups with remnants of coffee in them. Solo mutters as he plops ungracefully back down on the couch, "Kinda distracted here, sir... sorry." He grabs at one of the printouts and squints at it blearily, trying to find where he'd left off. Ackbar hmmms slightly, cranning his head a little as to perhaps get a peak at the printout. "May I ask what you're working on, Captain?" The Corellian doesn't look up as he continues skimming the printout, though he mutters roughly in reply, "Etti IV reports, gotta find out where he was, sir, gotta find him..." Solo's words come out of him in a rapid burst. Ackbar reaches down, picking up one of the printouts on the table and starting to skim it as well. "You refer to your co-pilot?" "I gotta find him, sir," Solo mutters stoically, reflexively grabbing at one of the nearby cups and slugging down what's left of its contents. "Gonna find him. Gonna get him back. He's gotta be okay." The printout Ackbar picks up can be seen to be a copy of one of the intelligence reports from Etti IV -- it would seem that Solo is poring over every report from that world he could get his hands on. Ackbar looks up, placing the printout onto the table. "Captain..By all reports, your co-pilot is dead.." "He's okay," Solo growls out stubbornly, still doggedly scanning the report he's clutching. "Somebody missed somethin'. I know Chewie, he's okay, I'm gonna find him, I'm gonna get him back, he's okay..." Ackbar sighs, reaching over and taking the report from your hands. "Let me look at this, Captain. I'm skilled in reading this sort of report." The Corellian starts as the printout is taken, and he utters a sharp little noise of protest; the report in question is in fact a summary of what was observed when Chewbacca's Y-Wing was shot down, from as many different sources as Solo could find... two more, in addition to the main report. All of them report the same thing: that the ship exploded a kilometer over the surface of Etti IV. Ackbar reads the report, looking up. "Captain, this report says the exact same thing time and again." Solo glowers and insists, "Somebody missed somethin', I been flyin' with Chewie for years, he's okay!" His voice rises a little in pitch, starting to turn strident. "I'm tellin' yah, he's okay!" Ackbar considers for a moment, leaning back in his chair, clearly taken aback by your half-shout. "Captain Solo, when was the last time you slept?" The human jerks back a little, frowning now, visibly nervous. "Yesterday," he barks in reply, too quickly. "Yesterday." Ackbar hmmms. "I see. Captain, you need to get some sleep." For a brief instant, Han Solo looks distinctly... frightened. He immediately tries to cover it, though, by snapping out, "I'm okay, Admiral, I'm okay, alright? Ain't done yet anyway, I gotta find Chewie!" With nervous, restless energy, he snatches up the datapad, thrusting one of the loose cards into it, and turning the thing on. Ackbar considers for a moment, then takes your datapad. "Captain. Would you agree that if Chewbacca had managed to eject from his fighter, he'd be likely transmitting a distress signal on the standard New Republic frequency?" "Gimme that," Solo growls, starting to grab at the little device... then catching him as he belatedly realizes he's about to yank something out of an Admiral's hands. He blinks, rapidly -- exactly how much caffeine _has_ this man managed to consume in the last few days? -- and then blurts out, "He mighta got hurt, mighta lost his commlink, Etti IV's hostile, if he had to may low he couldn'ta gotten through!" Ackbar raises his hand. "But, Captain. If he had his comlink, he would be transmitting right now, a signal we couldn't pick up from Calamari. Correct?" With his hands empty now, Solo is left to sit there on the couch, and he reflexively digs his fingers into the cushions -- perhaps to conceal how his hands are shaking? He scowls, petulantly, and barks out, "Yeah, so?" His tone is _just_ short of being insolent, and well into the range of 'not in the mood for logical arguments.' Ackbar says, "What if I told you, Captain, that I may have a way of getting a ship in close enough to detect any such distress signals?" The flare of desperate hope on the Corellian's face is unmistakable. "Then I'd wanna be on that ship sir, I gotta find him, he's okay, I know it, I gotta find him--" Ackbar shakes his head. "That won't be in the deal, Captain. If I have this ship go to the Etti system and scan for distress signals, will you at least attempt to get some sleep?" "I've _been_ sleepin', dammit--" Suddenly, Solo is on his feet, and just as suddenly, he's whirling away, trying to avoid the Admiral's gaze, reflexively shoving a hand again through his unkempt dark hair. "Guy has a little trouble takin' a nap and ev-everybody's on his case all of a sudden, I gotta find Chewie, don't wanna sleep, can't--" Ackbar stands with you, smoothyl. "Captain. Do we have a deal?" Over his shoulder, Solo flicks a look that would, if he were twenty-five years younger, be a pout; as it happens, he still looks like he is twenty years younger and has just been maneuvered by a parent into doing something royally unpleasant. "Okay, okay," he grumbles, "I-I'll lay down for a little while... take a break... do me good, I guess, better able to find what they missed..." Ackbar nods. "Exactly." The human scowls darkly and throws himself back down on the couch with all the enthusiasm of victims being hurled into the Sarlacc on Tatooine. Burying his face in one of the cushions on the end, he can be heard to mutter, "What's everybody so riled up about sleep for? Don't wanna sleep... don't wanna..." Ackbar sighs quietly, then nods, watching It would seem that there is still a great amount of caffeine in Solo's system, for he spends a full minute fidgeting restlessly on the couch before he finally gets settled, turning his back to the Admiral. But not long after that, the pace of his breathing abruptly changes, as though his body, seizing the opportunity as soon as it's horizontal, has just tipped him over into slumber. Ackbar nods, slipping out of the suite Ackbar departs the suite. Ackbar has left. The door chimes softly. The morning guards, a different pair then the evening shift, gravely allow Skywalker to ring through into the suite; it takes several moments before the door's control panel flicks over to indicate "Come in", which makes the two guards, a young Calamari and a young human, blink at one another. "Uhm, go in, then, I guess, sir," says the human. Luke does as instructed, pondering to himself just -why- there are guards here in the first place. Should have asked Han about that.. he muses to himself. Stepping inside he blinks to get accustomed to the light. "Han?" he calls out softly. An extremely rumpled, and slightly disoriented-looking Han Solo is sitting, of all places, on the floor in front of the semi-circular couch. He blinks rapidly as the door slides open, and starts, looking as though he's trying to snap himself awake. "Luke," he mumbles. Luke blows air through his teeth, "I -hope- you're sleeping." he says with concern while stepping over to where Threepio's form is slumped in a chair. Han_Solo blurts, "Nap... yeah... I-I was... takin' a nap." He frowns, as though this bothers him, and as he sees his younger friend moving towards the droid, he adds hastily, "Hey, uh, you ain't gonna need Goldenrod, are yah, kid?" Luke shrugs, bending to heft the droid forward a bit, "Maybe." he groans out, mid-heave, "Why?" he adds, his hand slipping around the back of the droid to feel for the switch. "Han you've been cooped up in here for at least two days. Maybe more." The droid's eyes flicker on with a -squoink-, "What say we go get something to eat huh?" he breathes out. Threepio whirrs a bit, "Oh my. Master Luke!" he intones happily. Han_Solo scoots back, actually scoots across the floor, away from the protocol droid. Slowly and warily, then, once he's cleared the couch, Han gets stiffly to his feet. "You mean, oh, like, out?" Luke nods brushing at a few errant strands of hair, "Yeah." he replies, "Out." he jerks a gloved thumb toward the door, "You know. Food." he says leaning forward almost mockingly, "Maybe a few drinks. Out." he ends with a warm smile, choosing for this moment to not comment on Han's appearance. Threepio on the other hand begins babbling the moment his eyes flicker yellow, "Goodness. Captain Solo you really should listen to me, I mean just because I'm a droid doesn't mean that I'm totally oblivious to the goings on around here. After all I have been programmed to facilitate human interactions and your recent behaviour as well as blatant disregard for your own health has.." he continues to babble at length like this until Luke waves a hand at him to shut up. Threepio nods mechanically, "Very well Master Luke." Han_Solo whirls on the droid and hollers, "One more word outta you, Goldenrod, and next time I'm gonna turn you off with a blast--" He cuts off only when he realizes that Luke's already silenced Threepio, and he abruptly reddens, looking uncomfortable. Luke sighs, moving toward Han, "C'mon Han. What say we get out of here." he ignores the outburst toward the droid for now adding, "You know you've been stuck in this one room way too long." he shrugs patting his pants pocket, "I'm buying." then peering at Solo as his head tilts surreptitiously, "I swiped Lando's credit card." he whispers. Han_Solo blinks several times, then a vague wraith of a grin flickers across his face. "Swiped?" he echoes. Luke half turns, gesturing with his hand, "Well.." he drags out, "..not swiped." he flashes a wry smile, "Borrowed." then more urgently, "C'mon. Don't worry about that. You need to get out of here and get some fresh air." Han eyes Threepio balefully, then mutters all at once, "Okay... okay, if you're gonna leave him on, but I gotta come back, I gotta figure out how to find Chewie, okay, kid?" Luke nods with a tinge of sadness, "Sure thing. On the condition that I come with you if you decide to run off to Etti." "I-I gotta think about it... I..." Pacing a little, restless, nervous, Han seems strangely unable to keep a clear line of thought for more than a few words, and he finally finishes gruffly, swiping a hand across his eyes, "Okay, kid, food..." Luke nods smiling, "Good." he turns toward the door, glancing at the now silent and curious Threepio, "..and I'll tell you what I've been doing when we get there." he tosses a glance over his shoulder to ensure his friend is indeed following. Threepio pipes up, flailing a golden arm, "Master Luke! You should know.." he starts to say. Han_Solo flicks a wide-eyed and uncharacteristically frightened look at the droid, before grabbing at Luke's arm and bustling him out the door. "Never mind, Goldenrod!" he hollers. "I'll tell him!" The door slides open to admit you out into the rest of the base. Luke emerges from Princess Leia and General Solo's quarters. Luke has arrived. Luke steps out ahead of Han, a mildly concerned yet pleasant expression on his face nonethless. He pauses to wait for the door to close completely and begins striding away next to his old friend. Han_Solo strides briskly down the corridor, hanging on Luke's arm and ignoring the startled looks from the pair of guards as the two of them emerge from the Solo suite. Only when their well away from the room does Han let go of Luke, but the Corellian's swift nervous stride doesn't lessen. You stroll southward on Coral Avenue. Calamari Coral City -- South Coral Avenue -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Luke -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- South leads to The Rusty Urchin Restaurant. North leads to Calamari Coral City - Coral City Square. Luke stops at the door, "Man you look like the seven hells of Nar Shaada." he murmurs playfully before allowing Han to step inside first. Luke looks at you for a moment. Han_Solo, once out into the city, blinks in startlement at the sudden rush of sunlight against his senses; it takes him several minutes to adjust his vision, though he nevertheless stubbornly keeps up with Luke all the way south through the streets. Finally, at the restaurant, he smirks at the young Jedi and retorts gruffly, "Yeah, yeah, kid, yeah yeah yeah...." And he slips into the building, trying not to glower as he goes. The doorman quickly opens the restaurant's door and you step inside. The Rusty Urchin Restaurant -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Rukbar -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Stairs Up leads to Veranda. Exit Out leads to Calamari Coral City -- South Coral Avenue. Luke enters the restaurant, nodding quickly at the doorman. Luke has arrived. "A little food and some brandy will do you wonders." Luke comments dryly while surveying the lay of the room. It's obvious his statements are intentionally flippant in order to distract Han from the recent news and events. He eyes the older man cautiously from the corner of his eye. If Han notices the lifted eyebrows his disheveled appearance is getting him from the restaurant's staff -- not to mention the patrons -- he gives no sign of it; the way he strides into the place as if absolutely nothing is wrong with the way he looks almost makes him look like the Solo Luke knows. The half-smile, though, and the mutter of, "Well, okay, a little food or somethin'," doesn't quite match up with his stride, however. Luke watches as someone approaches and directs them to a table. Luke murmurs a few words to the man, who switches directions and angles toward a booth out of the heavier traffic patterns of the restaurant. Ariana enters the restaurant, nodding quickly at the doorman. Ariana has arrived. Most of Han's attentions seem to be directed into putting on Perfectly Casual, At Ease stance, the same sort of air he'd once worn in a cantina in Mos Eisley, the first time he'd met Luke. Now, though, years later, Luke can notice that the Corellian's eyes flicker a little nervously, in contradiction to that casual air. In marked contrast, all of Luke's attentions seem to be on the older man. His expression carrying with it a twinge of concern around the eyes mixed liberally with a purposeful aloofness and even admiration toward the older man. He settles into his chair, speaking softly to the maitre 'd who nods politely and disappears quietly. "So." Luke says, trying his damndest to sound conversational as he turns to Han. "You -did- sleep last night right?" Freshly washed and changed in to a slightly more formal gown, Ariana appears in the entrance to the restaurant appearing uncharacteristically self-conscious. She tugs a trifle on her cape to ensure it lies at just the right angle, then she stands on tiptoes and begins scanning the area for the person by whose invitation she has appeared. Ariana looks at you for a moment. Han_Solo settles himself down into a slouch in the chair across from Luke, and shrugs, airily. "Yeah," he begins, a trifle too quickly. "I slept." Han_Solo(#1491POUAx) This tall, rangy man moves with the loose and confident motions of a fighter, someone accustomed to getting into tight situations... and getting quickly right back out of them. His brown hair is cut pragmatically short, but is thick enough to hold a hint of a wave, framing a set of ruggedly handsome features that have finally lost the last traces of youthfulness and are solidly into weathered maturity. A long scar crooks across his chin, adding another touch of ruggedness to his face. Sharp-gazed hazel eyes, prone to shift tint depending on his clothing, miss very little that crosses their line of sight, and he typically speaks in a lazy almost-drawl. He is clad in a rumpled, simply cut white shirt tucked into black breeches; on his feet he's wearing scuffed black boots, and his clothes in general look like he's probably slept in them for a week... in direct contrast to his face, which suggests he hasn't slept at all, with the shadows about his eyes. He is thinner and paler than he should be, and the white shirt hangs loosely on his frame. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => 550 Galactic Standard Credits => NR ID Card Luke fiddles with the menu, softly replying, "You don't sound so sure about that Han." pleadingly in tone now, he adds, "I am your friend you know. You can tell me what's on your mind." Luke's voice is hardly difficult to weed out among the other babble, especially juxtaposed against Han's more cavalier speech, and Ariana moves toward them hesitantly, knowing full well to whom the Jedi is speaking. Han_Solo's brow crinkles, and he snaps unthinkingly, "I slept, okay? Coupla hours -- I slept! How come everybody's raggin' on me about sleeping?" The Corellian then catches himself, scowls, and lowers his eyes. "Sorry, kid... I...." Luke frowns minutely at first before offering, "It's ok. Han.. we'll find him ok?" his voice dripping with optimism now, perhaps in his effort to console the pirate, perhaps out of naivete'. Nonetheless, he seems sincere. "..look I gave that chip to some intel people. They're going to send an agent and get the facts.." he shrugs, "Plus.. if you wanted to. We could go and check it out for ourselves." he peers at Han deeply, "We both know you won't feel comfortable about it until you know for sure right?" Solo sneaks his younger companion a look, and is still scowling, but with less vehemence and more discomfort now. He finally just nods, grumpily, looking as though he doesn't quite trust his voice. Ariana sinks into a nearby table, alone, realizing now that what the two old friends are discussing is of tantamount importance to each, Swallowing, she waves off a waiter's inquiry as to her needs and contents herself with watching as inobtrusively as possible. Luke catches Ariana out of the corner of his eye and gives a surprised look to her. He holds the look until she looks up then nods as if to say, hang on a moment. Turning to Han he murmurs softly, "How about some Corellian brandy huh? Or a thick steak?" reaching for the menu he adds, "Plus you could use the company of human beings for awhile.. I know Threepio can be annoying at times.." glancing at Ariana he continues, "..mind if someone joins us?" Han_Solo blinks, and mutters as if he'd forgotten what the word means, "Brandy?" Then he blinks again at the next suggestion, and looks distinctly alarmed. He follows Luke's gaze to Ariana, then, upon spying a woman, visibly shifts with all the more effort into looking as casual as possible. "Uh... sure, kid, sure, no problem..." Luke waves Ariana over, then with the same motion snags a waiter. Ariana rises gracefully and closes the distance between her table and the men's, murmuring as she pauses near a seat, "Please don't let me interrupt; I don't believe Luke realized you would be here when he extended the invitation, and I so dislike being obtrusive." Ariana Be not fooled by the delicate nature of this young woman's features or the slightness of her frame, for in tandem with her small bone structure is a sinewy musculature and a steel in her flinty blue eyes. She embodies the notion of an iron fist in a velvet glove, from the top of her neatly trimmed blonde hair to the tips of her polished boots. Her smile, when roused, is white-toothed and sincere, but her general demeanor is serious. In short, this young lady means business. Since joining the Diplomatic Corps, Ariana's preferred attire is functionally feminine and formal. Presently she wears an unadorned white gown with a woven black belt and a loosely fitted blue cape, all speckless and completing the image of someone effortlessly meticulous. Putting on soemthing that might be a charming lopsided grin if he looked at all rested, Han Solo looks up at the woman joining them and says hastily, "Hey, no problem, sweetheart, far be it from me to stand between Luke and a date, hey?" Making a quick order of various drinks rattled off the top of his head, along with a request for appetizers and some silence, Luke nods to the waiter who heads off in pursuit of the requested items. He then smiles at Ariana, "No." looking pensively toward Han, "I knew he was going to be here. It's ok, have a seat." then pausing, "Ariana, this is my good friend General Han Solo." If Luke thought he blushed before, Ariana turns positively pink from neck to hairline, ears included. "We were just...that is, he and I were...that is. It's good to see you looking so well, General Solo." Luke clears his throat, "Oh, uh.." glancing toward Ariana, "No.. I mean.." he stammers not sure what to say about that. Hazel eyes flick between Luke and Ariana and back again, and Solo blinks a trifle bemusedly. Then he smirks, and says dryly, "Makes two of us, sweetheart." Perhaps glad of the distraction, he leans back in his chair again, still with a casual air, for all that his eyes still flick nervously around the room every so often, and his hand fidgets restlessly on the tabletop. Ariana's complexion turns from pink to red at the Corellian's remark and smirk, and her fingers locate something, anything -- aha, a fork -- with which to play. "I remember seeing you on Endor after the battle, General, but never had the opportunity to meet you. It's an honour." There. Nice polite dinner chitchat. To that, Solo just nods gruffly, and allows, "Everybody was kinda distracted at the time." He waves a restless hand at the two others at the table, and says blandly, "Hey, you two kids got anything you need to talk about, don't let me stop yah, hey?" Luke responds to Han just as the waiter arrives with several trays, "No." he says with some hesitation, "Here drink something." he adds sliding a tall glass toward Solo and gently prodding him off topic. "Oh.. and eat something too." With that he pushes a plate of various appetizers into the center of the table and sits back with a self satisfied grin. Eddie steps in from outside, a casual grin on his face. His blue eys dart about the bar, as ifsearching for something, he manages to spot Han and Luke. (Who couldn't?), he walks over to the table there sitting at in casual strides. Bec walks in from outside, staring at something on his wrist that -looks- like a chronometer, but which is casting a greenish glow over his face, emitting a faint sound that vaguely resembles cheering, and occasionally buzzing. The technician, cleaned up for his trip to the restaurant, weaves his way between tables without looking up, heading unerringly toward the bar. "Rykellian ale," he demands quietly. Then he follows up the order with a somewhat louder cry of 'Hot rickets, you bunch of pantywaists. Pay -me- your salary and I'll miss the ball too." With a click, he snaps off his wrist gizmo. Ariana, who has been sitting with Luke and Han, does not see Eddie's approach; her attention is rather on the two men already seated at the table, a slight concern evidenced for the general. Without paying much attention to what Luke slides towards him, Han Solo frowns disgruntedly, swipes up the glass, and slugs down its contents without so much as batting an eye. He smiles narrowly at the young Jedi and then starts picking at the plate of tidbits, while saying gruffly, "Ain't gonna take no nap right here at the table, kid." He briefly waggles a finger at Skywalker, before settling back to munch. Hazel eyes continue to dart warily in assorted directions, as though he continues to be nervously restless. Eddie stops at the two men's table, grinning lopsided, a practices gesture, though not mastered. He glances over to Luke, "Glad you could make it." he says in a casual tone, pusing breifly, he says, "Mind if I sit down?" Of the other two already at the table, it is likely that only Luke Skywalker might notice the brief flicker of uneasiness that crosses the Corellian's face. It is to Luke that Han drawls, "Kid, you tryin' to throw me a birthday party or somethin'?" His gaze then shifts to the newcomer. Luke is in mid-lean forward, mouth open as if to say something to Han when Eddie walks up, "Uh.." he looks at those present already, "Mind some company?" he says sheepishly. Ariana raises her gaze from Luke and Han to study Eddie silently. As she is there by the graces of Luke, she feels unable to indicate her preferences about additional company. Han_Solo, between picking at the plate of food tidbits Luke's ordered to the table, casts a wary glance on the new arrival and adds in a further drawl, "It's a public table." Eddie Before you is a rather tall, rather strong, handsome young man. He stans around 5'10, and is rather well built. He has strong looking arms, but his face looks kind, not warlike. Atop his head is a delicate bunch of hair. His hair is brownish-blonde, and is cut into a 'Bowl Cut.', Parted in the middle, and falling over his forehead in little blades of hair. It is gelled slightly, and has a sort of shine. He has deep blue eyes, which look kind, not cold. His face is young, he looks to be around 19 or twenty, but he looks mature, like hes seen alot in his life. The young man before you is wearing normal Civillian clothes. Covering his chest, is a white, button-up Shortsleeved shirt, and he wears a pair of Beige khakis, which are loose and 'sag', And have plenty of extra space, creating 'ripples' in the down his legs. He wears black boots, not military boots, but boots none the less. His face at the moment looks weary, distraught, and depressed, his eyes looks tired, like he hasn't slept for awhile. He still walks with ease, and ussually has a hand jammed in his pocket. Eddie looks at you for a moment. Luke affords another uncomfortable look in response to Han, "Han.." he says softly, "Just relax ok?" he cringes slightly as he says this, nodding to Eddie. "Just a few drinks and conversaton, that's all." as if he's explaining something away. Eddie slowly sits down, glancing at Han, he studies him breifly, but nods to Luke slowly, glancing around the table. Bec turns around at the bar, leaning against the rail with one elbow, perfectly at ease as he scans the restaurant with his mirrored gaze. Spotting Ariana, he starts to lift his hand in a slight wave, since she's one of the only familiar faces on Calamari. But then he spots her table companions, and his hand drops in a flash, hopefully before anyone in that quadrant of the room could possibly notice him. Steely eyes on Luke, Ariana eventually offers Eddie a brief smile and makes room for the other diplomat, though Bec and his bleeping wrist can hardly be missed. She grimaces, forces a smile, and asks politely for some Altairian water. The Corellian plasters on another lopsided grin that doesn't quite make it to his hollowed eyes; to Skywalker, he says blandly, "No problem, kid, no problem, I'm just fine..." His words come out _just_ a trifle too quickly, and he resumes slouching back in his seat, occasionally nibbling at munchies. Ariana leans closer to Luke, lips near his ears, and she whispers...something. Skywalker's eyes gleam brightly toward the Corellian, looking for all the world as if he is about to say, -Have another one you old pirate. You've been alone in a dark room, wallowing in your own self pity for too long already. Listen to Lukie, he knows what's right-. He doesn't say this however, just simply sighs and spreads some glasses around. "Oh.. Han, you know Eddie right?" Luke blinks as Ariana whispers, grinning to himself at her words. He nods. "Han. You never told me how Winter got you off of Tatooine. Or even where you were." he says munching on something green and crunchy. "You know.." he says mid-chew, "I was on Tatooine about a week ago." "Can't say that I do," replies Solo, eyeing Halwinder with a look probably intended to be casual but which comes out rather more wary than anything else, in the Corellian's ragged face. Back to Luke, then, Han shrugs, eyes darkening for an instant. "Yeah?" Eddie quircks a brow at the mention of Tat, glancing from Han to Luke, "Tatooine." he echos, but quickly adds, "Thats what I need to talk about -- if it's not to much trouble." "Talk to Luke," Solo snaps out all at once, his features darkening further. "Ain't exactly in the mood to discuss that particular planet, kid." "Unh hunh.." Luke says, gulping back something golden in his glass and trying his best to keep the conversation light, "Twin Suns Hotel." another crunch from the vegetable held in his gloved hand, "I ahh.. have someone working for me there, with the owner." he shrugs, "Some guy named Grathix." Ariana shifts her gaze from Han to Eddie and back again, a startled expression in her blue-grey eyes. Then, without a word, she looks at Luke expectantly. Han_Solo visibly starts, and stares hard at Skywalker. Eddie turns to Luke, he stares at him, as if he feels uncomfortable, but he speaks anyway, "Who's in charge over there?" he asks, glancing around the table almost expecting all eyes of him. Luke raises a brow, blinking, "Huh?" he blinks again, peering at Solos face, "What happened there anyway Han?" Luke shrugs in Eddie's direction, "I dunno." he returns to look at Han. Ariana places her soft hand atop Eddie's wrist. "You're just stirring things up, you know," she says mildly. Han_Solo growls out lowly, "Grathix was the one who had me, kid." His face has hardened. Bec watches the table that's got Ariana at it, surreptitiously from over the rim of his glass. First she's whispering in the Jedi's ear, and now she's reaching out for the diplomat's hand. Next, she'll be rubbing her hand on Solo's thigh. Eddie glances up at Ariana, nodding his head slowly, he exhales deeply, slipping back into his chair, "I know.." he says, as if trying not to say anything more. Luke's eyes widen and he leans back confusedly, "But.." realization dawning, "Oh no.." then suddenly he blurts out, "What? -He- had you??" Eddie turns his blue eyed gaze over to Solo and Skywalker, he does not say anything though, oviously thinking he's done enough. If Solo's even paying any attention to the others in the immediate vicinity, he's giving no sign of it, as he fidgets restlessly in his chair and tosses off in a too-rapid ramble at the Jedi, "Took me on Palanhi, kid, got a little testy when I didn't show up on time for that rendezvous we planned when the kid, the redhead, what's her name, brought him to me, I didn't exactly feel like explain' I was tryin' help us keep our frekkin' necks out of Imperial nooses, yah know?" Luke scowls, "But.. I..I don't understand. What'd he want with you? ..and.. Shenner. Paul." he shakes his head, "I gotta warn 'em." Realization glimmers in Ariana's eyes, and she sits up straight. "That mission the two of them went on is in peril, isn't it? Shenner and Paul...er...Captain Nighman." "Wanted me to run a _Kessel Run_, for cryin' out loud," Solo rambles, "a Kessel Run, and me without the...." He suddenly cuts off, a troubled expression suddenly flickering across his haggard face. Luke nods plainly toward Ariana, sighing out, "Yeah. It could be.." his sentence cut off abruptly by Han, "Han." he says pleadingly almost, "We'll -get- her back." Eddie has been staring at Solo, and maybe at Luke, he turns to Ariana as she speaks, and flicks his gaze back over to Han. Bec drops the glass away from his lips as the words 'Kessel Run' float across the room, in the distinctive voice of the very pilot who made that run legendary. Any pilot worth his salt would work his way over to the conversation, to try to overhear whatever's being said about it. To pick up pointers. Clutchng his glass in a tight grip, Bec steps a little closer. Solo does not immediately answer Skywalker's attempt at consolation; for a long moment, the Corellian simply stares into space, looking strangely bereft. Not daring to speak at this moment, Ariana has to sit silent and wait for the others to impart more information. She does, for a moment, look up at Bec at his nearness, worriedly ensuring he's grime-free. "Han." Luke's voice breaks through, "Tell me about Grathix." his expression is deeply concerned now, not only for his friend who is agonizing over various things, but for something else not quite evident. Eddie, the -other-, Less-famous, Corellian does not speak either, yet he listens, and he does alot of it. He looks from Luke to Han, and maybe to Ariana to Bec, yet he concentrates on Solo and Skywalker, the VIPs of the conversasion. Almost dully, Solo mutters, "Whaddya wanna know, kid?" Bec makes his way quietly around the table to stand behind Ariana. Taking a fortifying swig of the murky swamp-waterthat's his drink of choice, he puts a hand on the back of Ariana's chair. If anyone asks him, he's got an invitation to the conversation from the legendary Luke Skywalker himself. But it's pretty clear from his stance that he's hoping no one will ask, or even notice he's there. And guessing by the expressions around the table, that seems pretty likely. Bec Dressed in a standard grey flight technician's uniform, Bec has got a thoroughly non-regulation scarf twisted into an ascot and tucked into his collar. The chronometer on his wrist could probably ransom a political prisoner from Kessel and the sergeant's pin on his collar is bright enough to distract passing birds, but the thin scrim of grime under his nails and the occasional black smear on his forehead or cheek distract from the gleaming image he might otherwise project, as do the smudges of grease around the pockets and front fastenings of his utilitarian garb. Equally incongruous together are the roll of greyish engine tape hanging from his belt and the heady scent of expensive cologne that wafts after him wherever he goes. His eyes are hidden by a pair of blue-mirrored sunglasses. Eddie doesn't seem to notice the Sneaky Bec, but he finnallys asks for a beverage, Corellian Wine, to be exact. A tall glass of the substance is set in front of the Halwinder, yet he doesn't sip it, not yet. Elbow on the table, Ariana places her chin on the heel of her propped-up hand and lowers her intent gaze on Luke and Han. Seated closer to the former, she studies the latter more carefully, awaiting further explanation as Luke as requested. Solo stops his nervous fidgeting, but the slowly but steadily increasing tension of his face and frame are not exactly an improvement. He stares warily across the table at Skywalker, his casual air vanishing with the fidgeting. Luke mm's, "Well, for starters.." he replies to Han, "..why did he lie bold faced to me about your whereabouts and secondly.. Han, Paul and Shenner are working with Grathix. If he's not to be trusted, or if he's dangerous.." "I ain't got no idea why he lied to you, kid," Solo mutters, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. "As for dangerous, well, he's got goons workin' for him, if that means anything." Eddie finnally ventures to sip the glass of wine before him, as he sips from it, Solo speaks, and he sets the glass down quickly, shooting a glance to Luke to see his reply Luke slumps back in his chair, voice distant, "This changes everything.. I thought he could be trusted.." Bec quickly realizes that this is not the conversation for picking up tips about the Kessel run, and is, in fact a conversation in which he's far far out of his depth, which is usually described at something around the level of a wading pool. But as Luke speaks, he turns to the man, perplexity plain on his face. "But you're a Jedi," he says, before he realizes he's sapeaking aloud. Delicate white fingers play with the stem of her equally delicate goblet as Ariana now focusses her attention on Luke and his far-seeing expression. Still she remains silent, waiting with a patient facade to hear more. Luke blinks, tossing a curious gaze at the voice before realizing it's someone he knows. "Yeah.." he replies. Is that self accusation tinged in his voice? He becomes animated, he tilts his head sideways at Han, "He wasn't too bright to let you go." wrinkling his nose he adds, "I can't figure out why he let you go. You -would- have told me. Han, I was -right- there in the hotel!" Ariana murmurs, "It would be my supposition if he let the general go that ulterior motives lie behind it, Luke. Such as...luring you or someone else in?" Solo's brow crinkles a moment, before he mutters darkly, "I dunno what happened, Luke. I got slipped a mickey and the next thing I know, I was wakin' up on the Lady Luck. Winter says she got me out. Dunno what she did." "Right." Luke agrees in response to Ariana. "Which should have been obvious to me." he lets out a ragged breath, narrowing his gaze toward Han, "Did they harm you?" Once he gets over the fact that he's actually entered the conversation, Bec pays attention with more avid interest, darting his eyes from speaker to speaker behind his glasses and trying to catalogue all of the references he recognizes. Winter, Leia Organa Solo's aide; Tatooine, horribly backward desert planet; Lady Luck, the only ship besides his own that can be tracked through hyperspace by the scent of the cologne. The larger scheme eludes him, however, despite his attempts to track it down. Solo rolls one shoulder in a shrug and mutters to Luke, "Nah, locked up in the hotel was a helluva lot better than the Imperial lockup." His gaze, distant, flicks across the room. "Again," Ariana inserts quietly, "I'd think that was part of a grander scheme, Luke. This reeks of subterfuge. I'd be careful." "There isn't anything we can do about it right at this moment." Luke manages. He slides Solo another full glass, his voice soft, "Look. I'll take care of Grathix. And we'll go get the Falcon and.." he stops there and stares into his own glass. "We will." Luke offers quietly in response to Ariana. As if being reminded of Ariana's presence, Solo's hollow-eyed regard turns round to the woman. "Sweetheart," he says dully, "Grathix wanted some ship or other, wanted me to race him, and Winter musta promised him somethin' or other to get me back." His face tenses again at the mention of the Falcon, and it's only when Luke nudges the refilled glance at him that he actually registers its presence. Bec continues to grab on to any word he recognizes, in a desperate attempt to gather enough loose ends to knit a hat. If you know what he means. Falcon, highly, HIGHLY modified stock light freighter that's just as legendary, if not moreso, than anyone at the table. And someone else has got it. That causes one of Bec's eyebrow's to arch up over the tops of his glasses, and the glasses themself to slide down his nose. His eyes are revealed first, to actually exist, and second, to be a startlingly deep emerald green. "You lost the Falcon?" He asks this with a bit of incredulous affront, as if the ship's loss is a stab at the very balance of nature. Han_Solo's hands abruptly tighten on the glass Luke has slid him. With a look that suggests that a knife has just been plunged into his gut, Solo lifts the full glass and abruptly chugs down its contents until it's entirely empty. Only then does he slam the glass down on the table, and growl without so much as changing the direction of his gaze, "Yes. I lost. The _Falcon_." Ariana nods faintly to Han then, the other brow lifting, she turns completely around to regard Bec with the same sort of annoyance with which one studies mynocs chewing on the primary power coils of a ship. Whatever rejoinder she intended, however, is flushed clean by Han's admission, and around she turns again. "But...how?" "-You- didn't lose her.." Luke begins to say. His voice nearly lost in volume compared to Han's. Luke's few words, of course, make Ariana turn toward the Jedi. Confusion mottles her usual placid expression, and the need for explanation shines in her eyes. Bec just whistles, a long, low sound. He pushes his glasses back up where they belong. "If you did not," Ariana whispers to Han, "who did?" "I lost her, okay?" Solo suddenly shouts, leaping to his feet and flinging a fiery hazel stare around to the woman. "I lost her, it's my fault, and it's my fault Chewbacca's gone! Anything else you wanna question me about, sweetheart?!" Luke leans back a fraction of an inch, feeling his friends pain and it's evident on his face, "Han." he says gently and quietly. Ariana leans back slightly as the wave of Solo's anger washes over her, then she retorts in a lethally soft voice, "Then if I were you I would be seeing about getting her back rather than drinking myself into a stupor. General." Oblivious to the heads turning in his direction around the restaurant, the Corellian snarls, "Two drinks don't make a stupor, doll. And it was Luke's idea, not mine." Han_Solo, with that, whirls and stalks swiftly towards the exit. Interlude: _Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit..._ That particular curse, as well as an assortment of other sizzling oaths from the languages he knew, were the only conscious thoughts in Han's head as he stormed out of the Rusty Urchin. The energy of the curses, and the fury behind them, propelled the Corellian off northward through the city as fast as he could move without actually breaking into a run. Only after he'd put some distance between him and the restaurant did he wonder where the hells he was headed, and what he was doing. There was no way he was going back to the Urchin -- he was in no mood to make another spectacle of himself in front of that little knot that had gathered around him and Luke. He wasn't about to head back to the base, either; he hadn't missed the startled looks the guards at the suite door had given him when he and his friend had emerged, and Han was now sure that the news that he'd left the suite had probably reached _some_ official ear by now. Damned if he was going to subject himself to any inquiries from the higher-ups about his health -- he felt like breaking the neck of the next officer who dared utter the words "Captain Solo, you really ought to get some sleep!" And he didn't dare face Leia.... He was left with only one other option: find the nearest source of Corellian brandy, and put as much effort as he could muster into drinking it dry. Han barely had to think to blaze a course to the Briny Deep Tap House. Nor did it take much thought to slap down enough credits to get him a bottle of brandy almost as old as Luke, and start nursing it down to try to blunt the snarl of emotions in his head.... You decide to leave the busy market place and open the doors to the tap house and descend down a short passageway. Briny Deep Tap House -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Out leads to Calamari Coral City -- Market District. Luke enters the tavern, the sounds of the busy market district muted as the door closes behind him. Luke has arrived. Luke steps in warily, although he knows this is the place. If it weren't for the vivid vibes Han is tossing off, pure logic would have led him here anyway. One eyebrow furrowed over his eye, he scans the place looking for his friend. Off across the tavern, in one of the side booths, Han Solo has slouched, with a bottle of Corellian brandy for company. With methodical precision, he pours off some of the bottle's contents into a glass, then sets down the bottle and starts inhaling the brandy from the glass without so much as pausing to breathe. Finally setting eyes upon Han. Luke sighs painfully almost before trodding over toward him. He slips into the booth across from Solo without asking permission or even speaking a word. He simply looks at his friend for a moment, understanding mixed with a friends compassion and empathy, nevermind the Force, playing on his features. Finally, "What are you doing?" he asks simply. "Drinkin' myself into a stupor," Han mutters roughly, slowly. Either he's already starting to get drunk -- not likely, given that he appears to have only made it about a third of the way through the bottle before him -- or else he's struggling hard to keep a rein on his voice. "Seemed like a helluvan idea." Luke just taps on the table idly, sighing as he says, "Well don't get too messed up or Leia will kill me." he says, guaging the man's reaction to humor at this point in the drinking binge. Han's brow only furrows a little, though his eyes, dark, stricken, start turning liquid at the mention of Leia. But he doesn't look up as he pours out another glassful of the brandy. "Won't tell her, then," he mutters. "Can't stress her out. Don't want her to collapse again." Luke frowns, "She collapsed?" he asks quietly leaning forward. His next glassful poured, Solo lifts it, as he says bleakly, "Found out when Winter got me back. Leia was in the hospital. Collapsed. From stress and worry and..." He slugs down a goodly portion of his glass's contents. Luke goes somewhat pale at this, "And what?" Looking acutely guilty, Solo finishes off the glass before rasping out by way of answer, "I shoulda been here, kid... I shoulda been here, she'da been okay if I'da beenhere..." Luke answers passionately, "You didn't really have a choice you know. Suns Han, you were captured!" Han starts filling the glass again, watching the stream of brandy as it leaves the bottle, and he mutters, "My fault... the whole damned thing's my fault, just 'cause I got _bored_ and wanted to smuggle again, kid, doncha _see_?" "You can't change that now." Luke answers eyeing the bottle, "C'mon. This was a bad idea in the first place. Give me the bottle alright?" he asks pleadingly. Han_Solo mumbles plaintively, "Maybe I'll actually sleep if I knock myself silly with Corellia's finest..." He thumps the bottle down on the table, then blinks with a doleful gaze across the table at his friend before slugging down what's in the glass. Luke frowns slightly, "You know what I'd really like to know?" "Got me, junior..." mumbles Han. His voice is still clear; nothing's blurring it, except perhaps an excess of emotion. "I wanna know what became of the Han Solo I know." Luke answers perhaps a little coldly, "The Han Solo who wouldn't -quit- in the face of adversity." he leans forward, clenching his fist, "I want to know what happened to the Han Solo I admired. The one with courage and confidence." finally sitting back purposely he adds, "That's what I'd really like to know. I need that Han, and so do a lot of other people." his voice softens as he blows a breathe out shaking his head, "I know it hurts. You lost Chewie and the Falcon." then turning to not look at the man, "..we've all lost many things.. but the Han I know wouldn't just give up and die." Han_Solo slams his now empty glass on the table and pins Skywalker with a hot, glittering stare, his face growing harder and tauter all throughout those words. "The Luke Skywalker I know," he finally snarls out sardonically, his words slower than they have been -- which, considering his earlier too-rapid phrasing, makes him sound mostly normal now -- "wouldn't be sittin' there with his head up his ass! Ain't it enough for you to drag me out in front of a crowd fulla strangers, no, now you gotta come in here and give me some kinda sanctimonious _sermon_?" Luke's expression drops sadly at his friends outburst. He murmurs while sliding out of the booth, "Fine. Give up." his voice showing no anger at all in contrast to Han. His eyes belying the pain he is feeling for his friend. Not because of the attack, but because he -knows- what he's feeling. "But when you find the real Han Solo. Let me know. 'Cuz I'd really like to see him again." he adds bitterly before stalking off. Han's face twists -- another look that makes him look as though he's been knifed in the gut -- and he hurls at the Jedi's retreating back, "I dunno how to find him!" Then, infuriatedly, he grabs at the bottle, but he doesn't do anything with it; he simply clenches his eyes shut, and clenches his hand around the bottle's neck. Luke turns, wide-eyed and stares. "I'll help you find him if you'd quit blaming yourself for every problem!" he says from across the room. Some patrons, most of them wallowing in their own self doubt or gathered together conversing joyously stop talking and gawk for a second before returning to their assorted beverages. Ironically, Solo does not call out anything else across the room -- fine time for him to be at all conscious of making a scene, you'd think. Perhaps it's his Corellian pride that keeps him silent, though it's probably also his Corellian bullheadedness that makes him unaware of exactly how dejected he looks, slouched there in that booth. Luke steps back over and sits down once again, "Han. I'm your friend. I care about you. I know it's painful and frustrating and you've been through a lot lately. I'm here if you want to talk about it. We've always gotten through this stuff. Hells, this isn't the first time we've nearly lost everything we have is it?" he sits back and pauses, "I know what you're going through, believe me." At the sound of Skywalker's quiet voice, Han raises his head, though only a little. He finally mumbles plaintively, "I... dunno what's wrong with me, kid..." "You're reacting the way any person would." Luke replies, "Your best friend is probably dead. The ship you love is in the hands of an enemy." he sighs, "It's no wonder you're feeling terrible." he leans forward slightly, "..but I'm telling you. _Han Solo_ has always picked himself up by his Corellian Bloodstripe and continued on." Han swallows reflexively, still clinging to the neck of the bottle as though he's not quite sure whether he's going to finish it off or starting swinging it at something. Eyes still closed, he answers tightly, "Maybe you can tell me why _Han Solo_ is..." He stresses his own name sarcastically, before trailing off, and looking sharply uneasy. When he finally finishes, it's with a much hoarser voice, "Havin'... a few bad dreams." Luke breathes out, "About Chewie?" in a voice that is akin to a whisper. The Corellian's unkempt head nods a time or two. "Yeah... Chewie... and... yeah." "I understand." Luke answers, "..and you're afraid. And being afraid makes you afraid, because you aren't used to it. Han.." he says pulling closer, "..it's alright to be afraid. It's what you do with it. What are the dreams about huh?" Han is blushing -- actually blushing -- but unconsciously he leans forward as Luke does, his face full of the struggle to hide the fright within it. "It's... kinda... all mixed up in my head," he mutters, sheepishly. Luke just listens now, his attention riveted to his long time friend. He nods. "Kinda... already... havin' it happen on Palanhi," Solo mutters, more or less in the direction of the table. "Got... worse." Han_Solo finishes, abashed, "Can't... hardly sleep now, Kid, I.." "We'll get you some help then." Luke offers, not sure how the Corellian will -take- the offer, but he does so anyway. "You know. Medical help or something.. and I could help you with it as well, if you agreed to it.. but I'd prefer that as a last resort. Last time I tried that it didn't end up too well." Looking even _more_ uncomfortable, Han mumbles, "I-I-I don't want no medic, Kid... don't think I could..." He doesn't finish, but the implication is plain: he's having enough trouble talking about this to _Luke_, his best friend; what kind of trouble would he have talking about it to medical personnel? "Well.." Luke says, turning to eye the crowded bar. "If you agree to me helping you with this, we can't do it here. Too many distractions for you." he turns back to face Han, "It's simple really. Think you can handle it pal?" A flash of the Han Solo Luke knows makes the Corellian straighten, and smirk, almost amusedly. "It _is_ me," he says, gruffly. Luke grins, "Alright then. Let's go." he moves to stand, significantly happier than when he walked in.
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