This was originally published in Assortments, but I decided it didn't fit because Assortments is rapidly becoming a Rogue Squadron and Mon Mothma kind of story... which I think is a good thing. Oh well.

Anyways, this takes place after the Battle of Yavin.

Disclaimer: George's.

Summary: Why'd the mercenary cross the road?

Have fun!

Comic

"Okay guys, I got a good one. Why'd the womprat cross the road?"

The kid's drunk, but who could fault him? After all, he has just destructed an indestructible battle station. Which is superb for its irony alone.

But he's still drunk, and Han Solo can tell from across the room.

Generally, this would have been a good opportunity to go over, corrupt some innocents, win some easy credits - but Han Solo is busy. He's trying to become part of the wall he's leaning on. And this requires a great deal of concentration.

Every time he ventures into the open, it seems, he is ambushed by Alliance soldiers and supporters, all at various stages of intoxication. They give the customary congratulations and hero worship - he shot those Ties to save his friend and isn't that nice? – but they aren't who he's avoiding.

Every time she sees him, she walks over in her virginal gown and spouts another Alliance sales pitch. Solo has yet to find an off button, but he suspects it may be buried in one of those buns of hers.

He wouldn't mind the lectures, not really, except… Before he and the wall had bonded permanently, she'd broken off during a tirade on the benefits of rebellion. She had paused, studied him in an entirely unnerving way and asked "what made you turn around, Captain?"

He had waved her off and now he's standing alone with his glass of whiskey, the question turning in his head.

Why'd the mercenary cross the road?

He sips the whiskey and watches her hips as she walks.

For the money, of course.

Watches her impossibly dark eyes, the place her smiles don't quite reach.

And if there was no money?

She's talking to one of the Generals now, probably about the Alliance. Preaching to the converted. She smiles. It reaches her eyes.

Well then, by definition he wouldn't be a mercenary, would he?

Han Solo orders another whiskey.