Han felt very old. Sure, his wife was onboard, as was his brother-in-law and in heart, but Luke was a ten year old who had just been brutally tortured by a Dark Lord of the Sith who had been dead for four thousand years. Four thousand long, silent years to carefully and delicately consider every nuance of how to inflict pain and make it last for a long time, on the body and in the mind. No, it was not going to be a good time for anyone.
And Leia...poor, poor Leia. Gunning the controls, Han moved the Falcon away. There was nothing he could do here. This was a battle for his Jedi twins. And that thought stuck in his throat like a fish bone. No one really needed a broken down old pirate. Not his family, at least.