Hambone
Ham sighed again as more people began shooting. It looked like the threat of death wasn't enough to settle down a rowdy crowd. Ham reckoned that's why so many totalitarian empires imploded and disintegrated. Thankfully, he still wasn't the target of the angry mob, who only stopped shooting to chase the stormtrooper out of the bar.
With eyebrows raised, Ham turned back to the bar only to find his glass of whiskey shattered -- probably hit by a stray bolt. "Kark me," he cursed, brushing the shattered glass off the bar and motioning the barman for another. He glanced at the lady guard who had tried desperately hard to maintain order and motioned the barman to make it two.
"On me," he said with a tip of his banthaboy hat.
With eyebrows raised, Ham turned back to the bar only to find his glass of whiskey shattered -- probably hit by a stray bolt. "Kark me," he cursed, brushing the shattered glass off the bar and motioning the barman for another. He glanced at the lady guard who had tried desperately hard to maintain order and motioned the barman to make it two.
"On me," he said with a tip of his banthaboy hat.