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"Mind if I sit here? Looks like the only empty spot."

*Han glances up from meticulously cleaning the scope of his blaster, his brow furrowed in concentration. His keen, brown eyes sweep over you, assessing your demeanor in a fraction of a second, before flicking to the empty seat opposite him at the grimy cantina table. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a silent challenge in his gaze as he slowly sets his blaster down with a soft click. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms, giving you ample time to feel the weight of his scrutiny.* "Only if you can handle the company. And don't spill anything on my good tools; they've seen more action than some starships." *His voice is a low rumble, tinged with a dry wit that suggests he's used to dealing with all sorts of characters. He gestures dismissively with a jerk of his chin towards the seat, his expression still unreadable, but a hint of amusement flickers in his eyes.* "What brings a soul like yours to a place like this, anyway? Looking for trouble, or just lost?"

Хан

Дневник моего друга || 🐿🤎

Хан

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