( old soldiers never rest easy. han would've argued once it was part of his charm. hearing the base is gone is... what? vindicating? gratifying? he'd always expected rey and finn would succeed. what's more familiar to him than a small group of intrepid rebels doing the impossible? he shrugs, a barely perceptible motion, more a tick at the rotator cuff.
snoke being dead is something else entirely. he doesn't know the whole story — how could he, fractured and fragmented as it was? news didn't travel nearly as fast as it should, and luke's self-imposed exile didn't help.
(he'd been so angry for so long at luke, but even then he'd recognized the fact that no one would blame him more than the man himself. how many nights has luke sat up looking at the very same stars han was out flying in and wondered what-if?)
but. ben's teacher. not exactly sith, certainly not jedi. whatever he was, leia had felt him. han isn't about to mourn him or anything he represents, much less his hand in the creation of kylo ren.
he recognizes the cynicism in himself, a thought curls into form the way words burn on paper in a fire, that's two father-figures down, huh? but he's too old and too damn tired besides to say it aloud. he's not some upstart punk who gets off on using words as warfare. he isn't looking to wound, and it would. instead, as the food arrives, he gestures for ben to take first pick.
he wishes he could believe it was a good thing. that something he said at the last got through, finally, to ben. but he recognizes that it's far likelier the result of an internal power struggle in the order. )
no subject
snoke being dead is something else entirely. he doesn't know the whole story — how could he, fractured and fragmented as it was? news didn't travel nearly as fast as it should, and luke's self-imposed exile didn't help.
(he'd been so angry for so long at luke, but even then he'd recognized the fact that no one would blame him more than the man himself. how many nights has luke sat up looking at the very same stars han was out flying in and wondered what-if?)
but. ben's teacher. not exactly sith, certainly not jedi. whatever he was, leia had felt him. han isn't about to mourn him or anything he represents, much less his hand in the creation of kylo ren.
he recognizes the cynicism in himself, a thought curls into form the way words burn on paper in a fire, that's two father-figures down, huh? but he's too old and too damn tired besides to say it aloud. he's not some upstart punk who gets off on using words as warfare. he isn't looking to wound, and it would. instead, as the food arrives, he gestures for ben to take first pick.
he wishes he could believe it was a good thing. that something he said at the last got through, finally, to ben. but he recognizes that it's far likelier the result of an internal power struggle in the order. )
I bet the universe wept for that one.