It doesn't look like much, but Han serves the hottest black coffee on this side of campus. No bullshit sizing, no fraps or dashes or whatever they're calling it, he'd say if you asked. No one really knows how old he is, although they all agree he's too old to be a student. But he's always there in the coffeeshop, making coffee and giving the cutest girls extra sugar, "Not that you need it, sweetheart."
His partner Chewey mostly communicates in grunts and the occasional howl when Han does something especially irritating. The guy has more hair than anyone Luke has ever seen outside a circus exhibit, but he scrubs the glasses until they're sparkling.
Obi-Wan goes up to the counter like he's been here a million times, ignoring the stares from the grumpy college students who love this place because no professors ever come in here. They call it a pit, a place where you can buy Aderalls in any corner booth and the answers to next week's exam, often at the same booth. Occasionally the campus police come in, and Han grins at them, not taking his eyes off them until they leave. They never find any evidence of wrongdoing. Han is way too good for that.
Luke has never been in here. His aunt and uncle always want him to come home right away after class, and although sometimes they let him stay in the library, they'd split a gasket if they knew he was in the Falcon. Every weekend there are several arrests -- yes, outside a coffee shop. (Chewey ejects the offenders so no police have a need to enter the shop.) Wedge told Luke, winking, that if you give the right signal when you order, Han will add something special to your brew, and he doesn't bother checking IDs. But Luke doesn't know what that signal is, and when Obi-Wan passes him a small cup of iced tea, he pushes down the disappointment and takes the paper off the end of the straw.
Obi-Wan must know some kind of signal, because they take their seats in a booth and ten minutes later, Han slides into the seat across from them. Luke cranes his neck around to see Chewey at the register, and wonders momentarily how people know what amount they should pay. He hasn't heard Chewey say one word since they came in. But then again, Chewey makes football players step back involuntarily when he leans over the counter. They probably tip generously.
Han sprawls across the booth like he owns it, which he probably does -- no one would rent to an establishment like this. Some of the worse tears in the vinyl are repaired in duct tape, but that doesn't discourage the people drawing graffiti.
"I hear you're looking for something special," he says.
"And discreet," Obi-Wan says, folding his weathered hands in his lap. A grin slides across Han's face.
"Discreet is my middle name," he says. "Meet me out back in an hour. Be ready to go."
With that he's up again, plucking up empty mugs from surrounding tables like he never sat down. Obi-Wan takes a long sip of his coffee.
"Do you think he can do it?" Luke asks eagerly. He'd been shuffled into the booth before Obi-Wan, which he thinks Obi-Wan did intentionally, and now he feels cramped, pressed against a wall which is a little sticky. If someone came in looking for him, they wouldn't even see him in the crowd.
Of course, his aunt and uncle would never come here looking for him anyway. Not after he told them he was going to drop out and hitchhike across the country with a stranger.
An hour later, they're in the back alley when Luke hears a blaring honk. He starts in surprise, but Obi-Wan just picks up his bag and walks down to the street, where there is an enormous semi half-parked on the sidewalk. Han waves at them through the window. Chewey lifts a hand in hello and then opens the door from the inside so they can scramble into the back of the cab.
"Off we go," Han says, jerking the truck into gear, and they take to the road.
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a morning without coffee is like sleep (Star Wars gen)
Date: 2015-09-16 02:10 am (UTC)His partner Chewey mostly communicates in grunts and the occasional howl when Han does something especially irritating. The guy has more hair than anyone Luke has ever seen outside a circus exhibit, but he scrubs the glasses until they're sparkling.
Obi-Wan goes up to the counter like he's been here a million times, ignoring the stares from the grumpy college students who love this place because no professors ever come in here. They call it a pit, a place where you can buy Aderalls in any corner booth and the answers to next week's exam, often at the same booth. Occasionally the campus police come in, and Han grins at them, not taking his eyes off them until they leave. They never find any evidence of wrongdoing. Han is way too good for that.
Luke has never been in here. His aunt and uncle always want him to come home right away after class, and although sometimes they let him stay in the library, they'd split a gasket if they knew he was in the Falcon. Every weekend there are several arrests -- yes, outside a coffee shop. (Chewey ejects the offenders so no police have a need to enter the shop.) Wedge told Luke, winking, that if you give the right signal when you order, Han will add something special to your brew, and he doesn't bother checking IDs. But Luke doesn't know what that signal is, and when Obi-Wan passes him a small cup of iced tea, he pushes down the disappointment and takes the paper off the end of the straw.
Obi-Wan must know some kind of signal, because they take their seats in a booth and ten minutes later, Han slides into the seat across from them. Luke cranes his neck around to see Chewey at the register, and wonders momentarily how people know what amount they should pay. He hasn't heard Chewey say one word since they came in. But then again, Chewey makes football players step back involuntarily when he leans over the counter. They probably tip generously.
Han sprawls across the booth like he owns it, which he probably does -- no one would rent to an establishment like this. Some of the worse tears in the vinyl are repaired in duct tape, but that doesn't discourage the people drawing graffiti.
"I hear you're looking for something special," he says.
"And discreet," Obi-Wan says, folding his weathered hands in his lap. A grin slides across Han's face.
"Discreet is my middle name," he says. "Meet me out back in an hour. Be ready to go."
With that he's up again, plucking up empty mugs from surrounding tables like he never sat down. Obi-Wan takes a long sip of his coffee.
"Do you think he can do it?" Luke asks eagerly. He'd been shuffled into the booth before Obi-Wan, which he thinks Obi-Wan did intentionally, and now he feels cramped, pressed against a wall which is a little sticky. If someone came in looking for him, they wouldn't even see him in the crowd.
Of course, his aunt and uncle would never come here looking for him anyway. Not after he told them he was going to drop out and hitchhike across the country with a stranger.
An hour later, they're in the back alley when Luke hears a blaring honk. He starts in surprise, but Obi-Wan just picks up his bag and walks down to the street, where there is an enormous semi half-parked on the sidewalk. Han waves at them through the window. Chewey lifts a hand in hello and then opens the door from the inside so they can scramble into the back of the cab.
"Off we go," Han says, jerking the truck into gear, and they take to the road.