It's your imagination, kid

The hanger was freezing. Han grumbled to himself and picked up the volume when he passed by one of the engineers. The tiny man gave him a sideways glare, but Han only adjusted his thin coat with a huff and continued on to the Falcon.

"You guys planning on having her finished before my hair turns grey?" he called ahead to the small team working beneath the Falcon's belly. "I've got a deadline to hit, would you mind picking it up?"

//I spent too much time trying to figure out how to go about this and I ended up writing you like, three different starters. And I still couldn't decide which one to go with, so you get all three of them at once. Extra points if you figure out which one was written after I decided I needed to go to bed. Mazel tov <3//

Starter #1:

It was, by a wide margin, the cleanest bar Han had ever seen. Earth hadn't been part of the Galactic Alliance for very long, but already he could see the alien influences in dress, in conduct, in cuisine; but fortunately the local equivalent of a cantina that he currently found himself in was ten times classier than any other joint he'd been to. The atmosphere was polished, polite, and deadly.

Han surreptitiously straightened his vest and sought out the small table he had been instructed to find. It was located on an upper tier that looked down over the main bar, situated in the center of a handful of other tiny circular tables, so it was out of the way but hardly hidden. It was marked by a neatly folded red napkin in the center, which Han pinched between his fingers and snapped aside, looking around with half his mouth pursed.

Despite it's eccentricities, Earth wasn't that hard to get used to. What had Han on edge was the job. He had been asked to transport a team and a client, but he hadn't yet been told where or what the team was for. He needed the money - he always needed the money - but even his vice for wealth could be staunched by an overwhelming sense of unease. The last time he'd felt this bad about a job or the money involved, he not only angered an already angry Wookie, but he willingly threw himself into the middle of a gun fight right above the Death Star. Arguably one of his worst and best moments.

Han realized the napkin was crushed in his hand and he laid it flat upon the table, making a futile effort to straighten out the wrinkles while wishing he had a drink in his hand instead. He looked down at the bar below, pining.

Starter #2:

Han took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He didn't know why he was there. All he knew

was that he needed to forget.*dramatic inner montage of leia kissing luke*

Starter #3:

Earth was strange.

Han had seen a lot of strange in his day, but never anywhere had he seen entertainment like this. Reality shows, the bartender had called them. The monitor screen in the corner was showing playback from one called The Biggest Loser, and Han was morbidly fascinated. He downed the rest of his....

"What'd you call this again?"

"Scotch," the barkeep replied with a nod. "That'll keep you plenty company if your friend doesn't show."

"He's not a friend, exactly," Han said, looking down into the bottom of his glass. "Actually, I've never met the guy."

"Well, he's late. We close in 10 minutes. Your tab's on me if he actually shows up."