a chestnut hued gaze briefly shifts from the kid’s face, to the landscape of… wherever the heck this place was. whatever system it had been, that he had to make a quick landing on, due to his back deflector shields being shot out. it was land —— or go down in an EXPLOSION of fire.
just my LUCK, he thinks, stuck with a brat who thinks he’s can cop an attitude.
——— KIDS these days. no respect.
then, the smuggler gives a little fake smile. condescending, at best, and generally… SARCASTIC. typical han solo, to anybody who actually knew the guy. something he put on around those who didn’t speak the lingo, as a means to express an annoyance towards their people without them knowing.
this one?
oh, this was just to be as FULL of deliberate rudeness, as he was receiving.
❝ i’m sayin’ i ain’t here to play NICE, kid. i need to be directed to a place that sells spare parts for my ship. she ain’t doin’ too good and she’s my only way outta’ your hair…
his eyebrows flick up in mild surprise. admittedly, he hadn’t exactly been very welcoming with his words, but he wasn’t deliberately, outright rude–unlike how this man was being. anakin’s lips twitch upward into a smug little smirk.
❛ well, if you need it so badly, you could probably afford to ask a bit more nicely, yes? ❜
he shakes his head, mock-disapprovingly, before speaking up again. while it is true that a moment ago, he was weary of this seemingly endless conversation, hearing the stranger sounding so annoyingly and annoyedly rude appealed to the childish impertinence within him. he can’t resist.
❛ your rudeness has no place here. remind me: between the two of us, who was the hot-shot pilot who managed to strand himself in the middle of the republic’s capital– and can’t even find a spare parts shop? you seek for help, yet you know nothing of doing it correctly. ❜
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