Log Date:
	6/11/97

Log Cast:
	Grezlok, Ariana, Nerrin, Han Solo, Raivac

Log Intro:
	With his health both mental and physical on the upswing, Han Solo
has taken some comfort in days spent in the company of his wife, and sleep
spent with lessened dreams -- thanks to Luke nudging him enough with the
Force that Han is able to conquer his recurring nightmares. But the
primary cause of said nightmares, the still unknown whereabouts of
Chewbacca and the _Millenium Falcon_, remains. Still desperately anxious
about his friend and his vessel, Han finds himself torn between cooling
his heels on Calamari and charging off to Etti IV... between soaking up
the presence of his wife, who he's also missed desperately, and assuring
himself for certain of the state of the two _other_ things most dear to
him. Between (he tells himself in disgruntled annoyance) telling himself
he needs to do something... and _doing_ it. Fretful, restless, worried, and 
bored, he sets out into Coral City, meaning to purchase a gift for Leia, but 
also to work out his still-snarled head. 
	And in the Market District....

----------
Grezlok arrives from Coral City Square.
Grezlok has arrived.
Grezlok looks at you for a moment.
Grezlok nods
Grezlok leaves the busy market district and enters the tap house.
Grezlok has left.

You decide to leave the busy market place and open the doors to the tap house 
  and descend down a short passageway.
Briny Deep Tap House
                 -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Grezlok
=> Ariana
=> Nerrin
                  -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=-
 Out <O> leads to Calamari Coral City -- Market District.

Ariana hmmms. "I do?" she repeats as she takes a drink of water.

Nerrin is standing near Ariana, a tray by his at his side.

Hazel eyes squinting in distraction, a rangy man with dark hair and a blue 
  jacket on stalks restlessly into the pub, his gaze sweeping the place before 
  he sets himself a course for the bar.

Nerrin says, "For some reason yes..."

Ariana
Be not fooled by the delicate nature of this young woman's features or the 
  slightness of her frame, for in tandem with her small bone structure is a 
  sinewy musculature and a steel in her flinty blue eyes. She embodies the 
  notion of an iron fist in a velvet glove, from the top of her neatly trimmed 
  blonde hair to the tips of her polished boots. Her smile, when roused, is 
  white-toothed and sincere, but her general demeanor is serious. In short, 
  this young lady means business.
Ariana's current attire is functional, as if she's been working on her ship: 
  grey trousers with navy piping, a white shirt with the top button undone, 
  and a loose-fitting black leather jacket. A black belt circles her slender 
  waist, with a medium blaster tucked into the holster on her left flank. 

Grezlok strolls to the bar, leans on the counter, and quietly orders a glass 
  of wine.

Nerrin
You see a man standing roughly 6'. The first thing you notice are his light 
  green eyes as they contrast greatly again his dark features. His hair, jet 
  black is cut very short and push forward. His face is angular, defined by 
  his cheek bones and chin. His skin is of a light tan. Moving downward, his 
  overall build is of average size. He is currently wearing a drap grey 
  jumpsuit styled garb.  He looks like a busboy as he has a rag hanging out of 
  his back pocket and an aprin around his waist.

Grezlok
You see a humanoid form, standing a little over two meters tall. His long arms 
  reach to his knees, and terminate in four fingered hands. The two fingers 
  and two thumbs all have long retractable claws which look to be well 
  sharpened. His legs terminate in similar four digited, clawed feet. His 
  scaly skin is a light borwn color, with the extreme end of each scal having 
  a blood red tip. He has large, blue green eyes, over which run large bony 
  ridges. These crests of bone run from his forehead, up and over his eyes, 
  and down the back of his head and neck, gradually becoming less and less 
  prominate. He wears a navy blue jacket, loose fitting, but by no means 
  baggy. The jacket has a high collar, and Black corded trim running across 
  the bottom and below the collar. The trim also runs down the seam of the 
  sleeves. The jacket comes down to just below his waist. He wears a pair of 
  matching navy blue pants, again, with black corded trim running the length 
  of the outer seam. The pants are loose enough to provide mobility without 
  being baggy.
                  -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Carried Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Comlink

Nerrin turns to look to the new arrival, again studying...
Nerrin looks at you for a moment.

Han_Solo(#1491POUAx)
This tall, rangy man moves with the loose and confident motions of a fighter, 
  someone accustomed to getting into tight situations... and getting quickly 
  right back out of them. His brown hair is cut pragmatically short, but is 
  thick enough to hold a hint of a wave, framing a set of ruggedly handsome 
  features that have finally lost the last traces of youthfulness and are 
  solidly into weathered maturity. A long scar crooks across his chin, adding 
  another touch of ruggedness to his face. Sharp-gazed hazel eyes, prone to 
  shift tint depending on his clothing, miss very little that crosses their 
  line of sight, and he typically speaks in a lazy almost-drawl.
He is clad in a form-hugging blue jacket over a white shirt tucked into darker 
  blue pants, which are in turn tucked into a pair of scuffed but serviceable 
  black boots. Down each side of his pant legs runs a single yellow stripe. 
  Around his waist he's wearing a slightly askew utility belt; secured to both 
  it and his right thigh is a blaster holster, in which rides a sturdy 
  blaster... when, at least, it's not in his hand.
                -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Carried Virtual Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> 550 Galactic Standard Credits 
=> NR ID Card 

Ariana nods to Grezlok and asks Nerrin, "I've been around Calamari for a 
  while. And the Republic."
Ariana then turns toward Solo and laughs. and says, "inli, awen gika. moltor 
  tikanar awen gika flydd-' tikanar mit."", in Corellian.

	[Subtitle: Greetings, General Solo. That advice you gave me
	about the YT-1300 sucked.]

Nerrin says, "Ahhh, that must be it."

Raivac has connected.

Nerrin turns away from Ariana and moves towards Grezlok.

Grezlok takes a long sip of wine

Solo pauses en route to the bar, fixes a narrow gaze on the woman who's hailed 
  him, and looks vaguely blank for a moment, perhaps trying to place her. He 
  then smirks and retorts, "Perhaps you shoulda started with the chapter on 
  basic flyin' first, sweetheart." With that, he saunters off.

Well, that comment wipes Ariana's smile right off her lips, and after a 
  flickered glance at Nerrin, she comments breezily, "I'd been given to 
  understand piloting skills weren't required for Corellian ships."

Nerrin moves fluently through the small bustle of people in the tavern, 
  reaching the bar near Grezlok he begins to clear several mugs from the bar 
  to his tray.

Grezlok smiles down into his wine glass at the bickering.

Nerrin . o O (Pilots.)

Raivac walks in the bar, looking slightly haggard, and takes a seat in a dark 
  corner. After closing his eyes for a moment, he orders an ice water

Nerrin continues on, moving behind the bar he empties his tray into the sink 
  and then begins cleaning...His head is down as if concentrating on his 
  work...His eyes however seem to take in the room constantly. His face, as 
  always, expressionless.

Grezlok takes another deep drink of wine, sets the glass back down on the 
  counter, tosses a few credits next to it, and turns towards the door.

Hazel eyes darkening, Solo stares harder at Ariana, abruptly scowls, and 
  perhaps surprisingly does not bother to respond to her jibe. He stalks out 
  an empty stool at the bar, mutters, "Ale, Corellian," at the sad-eyed fellow 
  staffing it, and forks over the credits for the drink.

Grezlok walks very slowly to the door, and ducks out of the bar
Grezlok walks up the small passageway and leaves the tavern.
Grezlok has left.

Nerrin nods and turns behind the bar to reach for a clean mug.

Grekmar is quietly sitting behind the bar. For once he appears to be relaxing 
  as his newly hired help lightens the workload.

Ariana abandons her sandwich and, picking up her sparkling water, carries it 
  to the bar and speaks softly. "Look, Solo, I'm sorry. I was out of line the 
  last time we spoke. I don't know you well, and you sure as hell don't know 
  me."

Nerrin moves to stand in front of both Han and Ariana. He then begins to fill 
  the mug...Slowly.

Solo eyes Nerrin, then, a flicker of impatience crossing his features, but 
  Ariana's approach distracts him. Turning on the stool he's claimed, the 
  Corellian surveys the young woman, warily. "Apology accepted," he gruffly 
  replies, at last.

Nerrin finishes pouring the ale and places it in front of ale. He looks to 
  Ariana, "Do you need anything?" He is expressionless.

"Another Corellian ale," Ariana answers to Nerrin with a hint of distraction 
  before turning back to Solo. "Huh. Better make that two. I can see the good 
  captain's still experiencing liquid sorrow."

Nerrin actually cracks a very faint smile and nods.
Nerrin turns behind him and grabs two mugs. He then turns back to face the two 
  and slowly begins to fill them.

Solo smirks. "I'm _thirsty_," he retorts testily, taking up the first ale and 
  starting to nurse it. "You got a problem with that, sister, you don't haveta 
  sit here."

Nerrin says, "So, you two are pilots?"
Nerrin continues to pour.

Ariana smiles fleetingly at Nerrin. "I don't know you can call me a pilot in 
  the same breath you call General Solo here a pilot. That's like comparing 
  skiffs and stardestroyers."
Ariana adds with a smirk in Solo's direction, "He's the best pilot ever. I'm 
  just a pale amateur."
And she must not have a problem with Solo's drinking, because she's still 
  sitting beside him.

Nerrin says, "Interesting..."

The Corellian pauses, blinks twice at the woman beside him, as if not quite 
  believing the sudden shift she's taken in the conversation. He emits a small 
  indefinite grunt and finally allows roughly, "Yeah. I'm a pilot."

Nerrin looks to Solo to see his response.

Raivac looks at you for a moment.

Ariana adds with her usual hint of asperity, "But not a mechanic."

Nerrin's face appears impassive as he thinks quietly to himself.
Nerrin . o O (Interesting how her tone changes...)
Nerrin finishes pouring the two drinks and then places them in front of the 
  two.
Nerrin sighs appearing somewhat tired.

Ariana thanks Nerrin and says something about her tab as she watches Solo 
  across the rim of her mug.

Solo's dark eyebrows knot together over his eyes, and he mutters lowly, "No, 
  sweetheart... not a mechanic." And with that, abruptly, he swigs down a 
  large swallow of his ale.

Nerrin pauses for a moment more...He take a deep relaxing breath, appearing to 
  collect himself he then leans over and grabs a soap soaked mug. Pulling out 
  the rag from his back pocket he begins to dry them.
Nerrin says, "You two independant flyers?"

Ariana lets out a soft sigh and shakes her head at Nerrin. "No. We're both in 
  the Republic. Solo...damn it, I'm sorry. We'll get him back. We'll get them 
  both back."

Nerrin . o O (Republicans...Get Who?)
Nerrin continues to dry the mug, non-chanlantly he attempts to listen to 
  Solo's response.

Solo's eyes close for a moment, perhaps the only sign of distress about him -- 
  his voice is still huskily low, but then again, maybe he always sounds like 
  that. "Yeah," he mutters, neither in affirmation or denial, as he stares 
  into the air somewhere past Nerrin's head.

Aware that Nerrin is nearby, Ariana glances again at the young man before 
  turning back to Solo, her voice low. "You have the best people helping you 
  and him. The best. Remember that."

Nerrin immediatly noticing that his presence is distictly aware he turns away 
  and moves towards the sink.

The Corellian turns his head again to peer at Ariana, this time with a measure 
  of uncertainty, as if he can't quite fathom why this previously caustic 
  individual has taken it into her head to comfort him. Brusquely, he informs 
  her, almost challengingly, "I oughtta be there."

Nerrin conviently places himself within earshot of the two. Still continuing 
  to wash and dry the mugs and plates.

Ariana shakes her head. "No. Our people are taking care of things. You being 
  there would probably just make things more difficult because you'd be 
  expected there."

"Expected by Chewie," the Corellian murmurs, sounding disconsolate.

Ariana pauses and says a bit impatiently to Nerrin, "I left my sandwich at the 
  table...if you wouldn't mind...?"

Nerrin . o O (Our people....She may be connected, but to who.)
Nerrin nods. He pauses for a moment reaching into the sink. He pulls out a few 
  mugs and places them onto the bar. One of which, a large silver mug. He then 
  walks out from behind the bar and moves to retrieve the sandwhich. A look of 
  humbleness on his face, he sighs sadly as he walks by Ariana and Solo.

"Thank you." Ariana keeps her gaze on Nerrin, a very faint hint of caution in 
  her blue-grey gaze, then she says quietly to Solo, "Chewbacca's smarter than 
  that. Just relax, Solo. We've taken care of everything."

Solo eyes Ariana again, grudgingly, and finally mutters another rough "Yeah" 
  more or less into his ale, as he takes down another swallow of it without so 
  much as blinking.

Nerrin reaches the table and retrieves the sandwhich. He then turns to stare 
  at the silver mug at the bar, or more importantly, the reflection of Solo 
  and Ariana in the mug. He very casually moves about the table where the 
  sandwich was, cleaning it and watching the mug.

Ariana sighs a bit. "How is Princess Leia?" There, that should change the 
  subject.

Not exactly brightening, Solo nevertheless allows one corner of his mouth to 
  curl up for a moment. "Better," he responds, a bit more loudly than he'd 
  spoken before.

Nerrin slowly starts to return with the sandwhich, watching the mug, reading 
  the reflections as best he can.

Ariana mmms. "I remember her very well when we were growing on Alderaan. If 
  you ever want to throw her off-stride, ask her about the glannis tree in the 
  palace courtyard. I used to see her shimmy up it all the time in her best 
  court dress so she could get away from her governesses."

That actually makes Solo grin, crookedly, albeit for only a fleeting moment. 
  "Believe me, sweetheart," he drawls with a little more life to his voice, 
  "I've seen 'er off stride. I'll try that, though."

Ariana smiles a bit; once again her gaze flickers toward Nerrin, who receives 
  a very small nod and a murmured, "Thanks," before she turns back to Solo. 
  "I realize, by the way, you've forgotten who I am. Ariana Millikin. We...
  used to know each other back in the days of the Alliance. Well...I knew you. 
  I guess I was a faceless rebel."

Nerrin . o O (Alderaan? Very very interesting.)
Nerrin . o O (Mental Note: Ariana Millikin.)
Nerrin walks behind the bar again and begins to straighten up. His face is 
  impassive, his shoulders some what slouched.

Han_Solo lifts an eyebrow, peering at Ariana over his ale. A beat, then he 
  says abruptly, "Endor."

Ariana looks startled. "That's right."

"You volunteered for a tough job," Solo affirms, sipping with a little less 
  force at his drink now.

Ariana smirks a bit. "Everything the Rebellion did was dangerous. That was 
  just my brief and somewhat painful assistance in it."

The Corellian considers his self-elected drinking partner, grunts a general 
  solemn affirmative to the danger that had typified the Rebellion, then says 
  abruptly, "Did I ever thank you and the rest of the strike team?"

Ariana cannot resist a smirk as she replies, "I remember you thanking the 
  princess. A lot."

Nerrin . o O (Let us see what can be provoked.)
Nerrin snickers purposly loud.
Nerrin then continues to do his minial tasks...

Solo's eyes gleam a little, and another lopsided grin quirks across his mouth. 
  "Well, I, ah, was experiencing a lot of.... gratitude," he drawls.

Nerrin . o O (He is not so easily riled...)
Nerrin looks up from his cleaning and takes a glance around the room.
Nerrin says, "Resolute in the apparant status of things he turns and takes a 
  walk toward Grekmar."
Nerrin drys his hands as he approaches Grekmar. Upon reaching him, he leans 
  forward and mumbles something in his ear.

Grekmar nods his head solemnly and sighs.

Nerrin steps back and walks back into the kitchen.

Ariana's eyes follow Nerrin, quietly.

Shrugging, Ariana says as she takes a sip of ale, "We were all pretty glad to 
  see the Death Star blow up. And you and her Highness were happy to be alive 
  and together. I can't say I blame you. Besides, it should be me who thanks 
  you, since it was an honour to be with you guys down there rather than stuck 
  on some frigate pushing buttons again."

Solo smiles a little, finishes off his ale, and with a slightly distant look 
  to his eye, murmurs, "We can call it even then, sweetheart."

Ariana shakes her head. "No. When we get Chewbacca back...then we can call it 
  even."

Once more Solo peers at Ariana, and perhaps he decides that the woman is 
  alright after all, for he flicks her another grin even though it it doesn't 
  reach his eyes. He rises, then pauses as he realizes that she'd ordered him 
  another drink. This he scoops up and downs in a steady, long draught; then, 
  he sets the empty mug and a few more coins on the before. "Yeah," he says 
  huskily, and with that, he turns and slips out of the place.

[End log.]