WHO: Finn Solomon → Han Solo WHEN: After school on January 30 → A long time ago WHERE: Dunhaven High School parking lot → In a galaxy far, far away SUMMARY: After a particularly lucrative game of sabacc, Han explores his new treasure and Finn goes along for the ride. WARNINGS: None, though there are spoilers for "The Last Jedi", if that's something you're worried about
Han wished he'd had the sense to actually get a picture of Lando's face when he'd made his winning hand in their game of sabacc. Hell, he'd have really loved to have an actual hologram, to really get the image perfect. As great as it was to still have the very dice from the game, having the chance to relive that expression again and again would have guaranteed Han's happiness -- for life, even.
Still, actually having the freighter legally in his possession was a pretty good consolation prize.
Walking on board, Han didn't even bother hiding the grin that overtook his face. He'd had a few vessels, some bought legitimately and most "borrowed" in a less legitimate manner, but this one was something else. The Millennium Falcon, Lando had called it. From the moment that Han had laid eyes on her, he knew that his friend wouldn't appreciate her in the way that he would. Lando was great and all, but she was a thing of beauty. She deserved to be under the control of someone who would welcome her eccentricities and help bolster any perceived flaws. She deserved a pilot that could actually fly and wouldn't be afraid to take push her to her limits.
In other words, the Falcon deserved Han.
Climbing on board, Han knew that Chewie wasn't far behind. This vessel was as much his as it was Han's by default, given how the former's perceived life debt had turned from a partnership to a true friendship, and Han knew that he'd be just as curious to take a look around as he was. He paused to look around, taking in his first view of his ship, and his grinned seemed to widen as he looked over his shoulder at Chewbacca.
"Oh, Chewie," Han said with a nod, his gaze turning back to gaze around the ship. "This'll do."
At that, they both went their separate ways to explore, Han beelining straight toward the cockpit. He was already itching to take a look at the modifications that had been made to the relatively older freighter and see what else he could do to help her. He was familiar with the ship, both from what Lando had said and from seeing it firsthand enough to spark the interest in playing for her in the sabacc game, but this was the first time he was walking the corridors, his footsteps heavy against the metal floors, knowing that she belonged to him.
Reaching the cockpit, he looked around and took in the controls for a moment before sliding into the pilot's seat. He ran his fingers over the console, smiling once more. "You and I are going to get into so much trouble," he murmured, his mind already thinking of the amount of cargo he'd be able to fit in the ship -- and anticipating finding all of the hiding spots that would allow him to smuggle illegal goods, too.
Han's hand slipped into his pocket and found the dice, holding them out in his hand. They were already tied together by a bit of matching golden chain. Standing, he hung the dice, a reminder of how he'd achieved this goal of owning a real ship, and then he fell back into the chair. For the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming sense of belonging come over him. Even on Corellia, he had never felt like he was home. Here, though? There was no doubt about it. This was home.
It was the honking horn that jolted Finn from his thoughts. Immediately he panicked, worried that he had stalled in traffic, but it was nothing that dire. He was still in the school parking lot, his truck planted in the space that he'd proclaimed his own the moment he achieved his driver's license at the start of his sophomore year. The honk had just been from one of his friends, driving by and giving him the finger by way of greeting before laughing and speeding away.
On a normal occasion, Finn would have rolled his eyes or returned the gesture, but his mind wasn't in his truck at the moment. Rather, it was in a galaxy that was both far away and existed a long time ago.
His truck wasn't the Millennium Falcon, but he had put a lot of work into it in the months leading up to his 16th birthday. He'd bought it for cheap, but it had still taken most of his life savings and subsequent allowances to pay to make it run. Now, though, he was convinced that his truck was going to outlive everyone, all thanks to the parts and natural mechanical prowess he'd somehow managed to stumble into having.
He ran his fingers along the steering wheel, thinking about the feeling of contentment that Han had felt. It said something, Finn thought, that he no longer questioned or was shocked by the strange dreams and feelings he had surrounding Star Wars. The last movie had been an experience to live through, not only because of Charlie's emotional state, but his own; he may not have cried tears, but he had cried out whenever anything looked particularly bad for Leia, which felt bad enough. His heart had ached in a way he was unfamiliar with whenever Kylo Ren came on screen. Tears had truly been a near thing when he saw the end of one of his childhood heroes. Finn didn't know what any of this meant, nor did he know what it meant that Charlie has having similar experiences. Though he kept telling him that it was simply the hype around the new movies, he knew it was more than that. The dreams, the feelings -- they were all too real to just be dreams.
Shaking his head, Finn released a sigh. The whole reason he had come out to his truck had been to drop off his backpack and pick up the sheets of paper that had the monologue he'd been practicing printed on them. Doing just that, he popped open his car door and hopped down. He had a musical to audition for.