[There's a guy in an Imperial flightsuit wandering around in Heropa.
Han watches him for a second from his obnoxiously yellow trash can taxi car, the paranoia borne out of years in the Alliance kicking in first. But the guy doesn't seem like much of a threat, at least from afar, so Han checks the gun in easy reach and pulls over to the curb where Bodhi currently is.
He rolls his window down, sticks his head out, pushes his sunglasses up. If it weren't for the Corellian bloodstripes on his pants, he'd look like any other taxi driver.]
You're pretty far from home. [It's casual, neutral, a statement of observation instead of any real accusation.]
no subject
Han watches him for a second from his obnoxiously yellow
trash can taxicar, the paranoia borne out of years in the Alliance kicking in first. But the guy doesn't seem like much of a threat, at least from afar, so Han checks the gun in easy reach and pulls over to the curb where Bodhi currently is.He rolls his window down, sticks his head out, pushes his sunglasses up. If it weren't for the Corellian bloodstripes on his pants, he'd look like any other taxi driver.]
You're pretty far from home. [It's casual, neutral, a statement of observation instead of any real accusation.]