@warstar !
‘ hey kid, looks like you got a little something on your face. ’ he slides to the edge of his seat, folds his upper body halfway across the holochess table- vanishing the pieces, all to get a good arm’s reach into luke’s personal space. like a doctor, he dons a frown, clicks his tongue, and pokes his nose and both cheeks systematically. with what purpose? there’s no good answer. it’s not like han himself has examined the impulse, “to be an asshole” is a good enough excuse if he stops to think too hard about it. to say he’s hung up would incriminate them both in someway, and it’s early, he’s tired, there’s a pulled muscle throbbing in his calf, going down the rabbit hole can wait. with reason known or not, being near is enough.
han shakes his head, sighs, and leans back until he’s reclining again. ‘ who am i kidding it’s always looked like that. ’