garbageship | That's no moon... Wait, no, it's a moon.

No one is gladder than Han Solo about the high miss rate of Stormtroopers, but they're not that bad. They train, which is exactly what Ben is doing now. It takes time, and since it's not just a question of survival of course there needs to be some other motivation. Of course he was proud of Ben when he was young, but there's a different tenor to it now; everything carries much more weight because he's coming from so much further away.

It's a lot to remember at once, but people get the hang of it. He pitches the stone as high as he can.

"Surviving" is really good motivation. Whatever motivation is present right now isn't nearly as strong, but he's going to stick with it while it lasts. (And maybe this will become a matter of survival. Knowing how to fight without the force could be necessary if none the grimmer futures he has been contemplating pan out.)

Maybe he needs to approach this differently. When he's at his most effective with the force, he rarely puts too much thought into what he's doing. His mind and all of the chaos that goes on inside of it tend to hinder more than help. He can turn it down.

This time, he lets go of all of the advice and overthinking and just shoots. It's a clean hit.

For a minute he isn't sure he believes it, only because using his abilities is so ingrained into Ben's nature that such a smooth shot seems too simple. But it looked right. There's no odd disconnect between his body language and the look of concentration on his face, and nothing-- not the rock, the gun, or the bolt of energy-- moved in any way but how it ought to.

(It makes sense, he reasons. Just because he hasn't used blasters doesn't mean he knows nothing about fighting; about timing, aiming, controlling his actions,)

(It makes sense, because he's his father's son.)

Han can't help a grin.

"Another, or do you wanna try something harder?"

If the force was involved, it was in a subtle way that he wasn't aware of.

(Ben has been training in one way or another almost constantly for the vast majority of his life. Is aiming a blaster so different from blocking a blaster's bolt? Can't lessons learned from one weapon be applied to another?)

He allows himself a self-satisfied almost-smile even though the accomplishment was small. It's proof that he can do something without the force. He's not always sure that he can.

"What would be harder?"

It's not obvious? His grin hasn't quite faded yet, as he stands tossing the rock idly in one hand. Han takes a moment to scout out the landscape, finding the rest of their party and making a mental note of where they are, then nods his head in the other direction. It's a clear path for quite a few meters.

Just a father and son playing catch, right?

"Running start."

Moving target, moving shot. If he makes the shot and doesn't use the force it'll be blind luck. Still worth practicing.

That sure does warrant a there's-no-way-that's-going-to-happen-but-okay look.

"I'm going to miss." He's also going to do it, he just wants to make sure all expectations are nice and low before he does.

"Probably."

Annoyingly, he sounds pretty cheerful about the prospect. In fairness, Han might well miss, too. Nothing for it but to try. He readies himself, intending to match the running start before he pitches it.

One of them might as well be cheerful about inevitable failure.

With great reluctance, he sets off at a leisurely jog, blaster at the ready.

Look, if you're facing inevitable failure, you might as well have some fun with it.

He hangs back just a little, enough to avoid any stray shots, and throws the stone while running-- arcing it high, so there's a little further for it to fall, time for maybe one extra shot at it.

Fun isn't something that he does anymore. That sabacc game came close; they might need to do more fun training when they're back on the ship.

He instinctively frees a hand to slow the rock (the hand-waving isn't strictly necessary when using the force, but it does allow for greater accuracy and strength) and manages to catch himself before actually doing anything. The sloppy one-handed shot he gets in misses completely.

He frowns and runs a hand through his hair. Being bad at things isn't fun at all. "I lost focus."

"The more you've got going on..." He shrugs. That's why they're doing this; it's not accuracy, still, it's flexibility. Keeping track of everything at once. Better to get the practice in when its not life and death.

"Try again?"

He doesn't seem the least bit disappointed.

What's annoying is that he knows he can multitask in a fight. That's with the aid of the force, though; this is like running around with a key sense missing, isn't it? Or is he capable of broadening his focus without the force? He hasn't tried. He has no idea what his abilities are like.

He nods decisively. "Yes."

This time, his jog is much closer to an actual run. Things are getting real.

Probably there's going to be a tipping point, here, when the frustration outweighs the utility of challenging himself. For now Han isn't looking ahead. This is Ben's task but he's just as invested, pushing himself to match his speed. He wonders sometimes what would have happened if their son had taken after him. By now maybe he'd be a crack shot.

Maybe he'd have rebelled and moved to Tatooine to take up moisture farming. Who knows.

The rock goes sailing and Han stops short, breathing heavy but not losing sight of it.

Eventually. With a fiery temperament, there's a fine line between the need to overcome a challenge and the temptation to get mad and quit when the challenge isn't surmounted quickly enough.

He could have always become obsessed with Anakin's early life and developed a love of racing. Slightly more exciting than moisture farming.

Ben keeps both hands on the blaster and shoots twice. Both miss, of course, but he was tracking it well and likely would have hit something if it had been person-sized. Even though he's clearly not pleased with his performance, he seems to be accepting that this is a thing he can't master in an hour.

(He wouldn't have had to leave home to take up racing. Han prefers to fly but he knows his way around a speeder, and even if he'd worried he'd have been there at the sidelines, cheering. Solo men love a little danger.)

"If that was bigger--" he says, the approving tone and nod ought to finish it. "How do you feel?"

Like he's learning? Tired of running?

Well, one of them doesn't think that he's failing miserably. That's helpful.

"Like I wouldn't win in a fair blaster fight." This comes out as a statement of fact rather than an irritated pout. "Will you throw another?"

Winning the fight isn't always the purpose. That's probably good enough to gain some distance, and for the foreseeable future all of them are on the run. All in all this is going pretty well. Ben is game to give it another try, so why quit now?

He nods, takes in a deep breath. "Keep running. But slow down a little."

It's going well enough that he thinks he can keep pace and toss a few, one at a time. The movement's more important than the speed, and he doesn't want to be too far from the ship. Plus he hasn't got the stamina he used to, but he'd rather not admit to that part.

Gaining some distance would be a novel tactic. He fights until he accomplishes his goal, whether that goal is killing the enemy or something else; running away is not something he does.

Except now, apparently. Running from the First Order, running from Snoke. There are other things he's running from, too, but they aren't physical threats and he refuses to acknowledge that they even exist.

He nods and doesn't even make a snide comment about the old man looking tired. Shooting rocks is the most serious of business and serious business leaves no room for being snide. He takes off at a slower pace, determined to succeed at this exercise before stopping.

This is probably not a normal family bonding experience, but it does the trick anyway. Even a snide comment would probably come across as good-natured, under the circumstances.

Taking a sharp breath, he chases after, tossing one stone after another, hanging back just a little. It's hard to keep much of an eye on the proceedings when he's watching where he's going, but he trusts Ben to gauge his own success.

Running's not so bad.

It's perfectly normal. It's just like playing catch in the backyard, but with guns.

By the time Ben decides that he's done with this exercise, he has only managed to nick one rock. Most shots were close, though, and he's fairly confident in his ability to at least look like he knows what he's doing with a blaster. He stops, a little out of breath, and looks back at his father.

"That's enough." He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and lets the blaster hang at his side. "I won't master this today."

At least he can admit it.

Looking like he knows is more than half the battle. It's funny to think anyone would have to teach the Master of the Knights of Ren to look intimidating, but it's a question of the right sort of intimidation. Not fear me, just don't try me. It's a careful balance; he can't afford getting a reputation, but he needs to pass as the sort of man who might have one.

"You won't," he agrees. Han is more worn-down by the exertion, and he stoops a little, obviously breathing hard. He's not a young man, sometimes it's all too obvious. "But for a man who's never had to shoot that's not bad."

Mild praise, maybe, but there's a lot of genuine pride to back it up.

Don't try me has always gone without saying. Comes along with well-established fear. Ben could use a few lessons in not walking around like he expects everyone to bow to his whims.

Not that bad is going to have to be good enough, as much as it displeases him to be mediocre at something that he's making an attempt at. He gives his father a curious look and tilts his head. "Were you going to keep throwing rocks until you dropped?"

He just needs to learn to strike a balance between expecting everyone to bow to his whims and making it clear he doesn't plan to cater to theirs. No big deal. Just a total change in how he interacts with the world around him.

"I'm fine," he says gruffly. Admitting to his own weaknesses is not Han's favorite thing in the world. And really, he's out of breath but not that badly off.

(Worse, though, than he wants to say. There's a twinge in his side that seems new, until he realizes it's probably the rib he broke back on that job with Kitty.)

Bigger miracles have been pulled off. Recently, in fact.

"You're old." Not a cruel reply, but a blunt one. That isn't all of it, though; he's become very good at picking up weaknesses, with and without the force. "What else is it?"

It just seems a bit unlikely. Fortunately, Han Solo has never given a damn about the odds.

"You got it. I'm old." What did you think would happen over fifteen years, Ben? It's not only children that change. It's not like that's the only injury he's gotten in the course of a rather rough life... Just more recent than most.

"Just have to catch my breath."

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