[ happy hour ]

[almosthonorable]

Not one to pass up a good business opportunity, Ben’s behind the counter, aiming to earn some credit toward what’s left of his tab.

Specials
† bourbon
† milkshakes
† bourbon milkshakes


The bar is fairly quiet at the moment, so Ben’s leaning on one elbow, doodling on a napkin.


[ tiny tags: gene hunt, mark hoffman, moist von lipwig ]


[ ooc: have at, guys — open till 8:30 p.m. est; tag away, and feel free to threadhop all over the place!

eta, 8:33 p.m.: AHAHA, you people. THANK YOU ALL. closed to new threads, but i'll be hitting these as i can before bed tonight, and tagging back all slows tomorrow for those who want 'em! ♥! (threadhopping, o' course, is still encouraged.) ]

Comments

[diced_tartan]

Nicholas would rather not stick around. Not after this whole ordeal.

"I think I'll be taking my drink to the fire place, actually," he says stiffly. "Thank you."

He doesn't even give Han so much as a glance as he walks in the other direction.

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

Han gives Nicholas plenty of a look as he walks off.

Once he's gone, his attention turns to Ben.




"Pour me another round, if you would?"

[almosthonorable]

Ben's already reaching for the Woodford.

"I'll give you a whole bottle if you drink with that mouth of yours instead of runnin' it."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"I wasn't--"

He snaps mouth shut and grits his teeth a little, feeling another white-hot wave of his temper boil up and threaten to explode. He huffs exhales as he drops back onto a stool, putting his head in his hands.

Waiting for that drink.



"Fucker has no idea what I've been through, he wants to see innocent lives kriffed up..."

[almosthonorable]

Ben pours.

And waits.

When Solo's head stays down, he slides the glass closer to Solo's elbow.

After a pause, "The meat of that bein' he's got no idea. You go knockin' heads with every dumbass you come across in this place, you'll never get to the door."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the model citizen that anyone should be looking up to, but hell, he had no right..."

One hand drops to the glass and he lifts it. And then he looks up at Ben.

"I flew the Falcon straight out of hyperspace into the remains of Alderaan. An entire planet. Gone. All for a 'test' of their 'Death Star'."

He drinks.

"Well, it worked. And they've been going around taking out entire planets as they feel like it since. He wants to talk, he can come fight in this war..."



He drinks again.

[almosthonorable]

"And that's some downright shit, and awful that it happened.

"But — "

Ben shakes his head.

"That white hat won't, 'cause it's not his war," he says, ticking points off with his thumb and fingers, "and in here, it's not your place to haul off and tell him he should. No business, and no gettin' celled the first time I see you in months."

He pours another refill.

"And surely not when I'm the one unfortunate enough to be standin' back here, playin' Little Miss Manners."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

Han knows Ben is right -- doesn't mean he likes it, but he knows he's right -- so he nods.

Then meets Ben's eyes.





"You do look good, playin' that role. Need an apron, though."

[almosthonorable]

Something between a snort and a cough leaves Ben's throat.

"I need a number two, too, so you laugh while you can."

[rebel-falcon.livejournal.com]

"Oh, no. Bar and I...I doubt she'd let me get on that side of the counter without a fight."

[almosthonorable]

" -- the hell'd you do to her?"