A space pirate, with his wrist in a bulky brace of some kind, follows the smell of food. All that it took was the scent to draw him over after being awake all night. He'd spent the evening as well as the small hours of the morning out hitting the bars and playing sabacc again. Which wouldn surprise absolutely nobody who knew him in a more than casual sense.

It's how he's spent a lot of his nights in the Nexus, only this time, he's not trying to earn money. He just went out for the sake of unwinding.

It doesn't take long for him to realize he knows the chef behind the grill (it's hard to miss a polar bear, after all) and that makes him even more inclined to walk up and drop a few credits on a meal. Han pulls out a stool and sits down very carefully, as if he didn't trust his own sense of balance.

His eyes are a little bit bleary and definitely bloodshot when he glances over at his pal, but there's still an easy smile on his face. He reaches his good hand up to his already messed up hair to ruffle it in thought.

"Hangover food." He says thickly, like his mouth was dry. "Whatever ya think's best."