Han Solo had arrived well after the fire had been lit.

The magic that contained the fire in a well controlled sphere was undetectable to him, which, is just as well. He would have found a reason to wrinkle his nose at the thought of conjuring flames and organizing it with a mysterious energy. The unpredictable and faith influenced nature of magic was something of a turn off for him. He wouldn’t appreciate anyone pointing out the irony that he put his faith in the most unpredictable ship in the multiverse, thanks.

The weather in the Nexus is chilly so Han had dressed accordingly. Boots, a knotted scarf and a brown (or blue in some light) fur lined parka that he didn’t need to stay in for very long given how extraordinarily regular and even the heat was coming off of this bonfire. When he started removing layers, it was clear that Han had bothered to dress only fractionally better than usual. A double breasted shirt kept his chest better covered than the v-neck that he usually preferred and navy trousers had completed the look.

He has a look in his eye that seems almost like he’s hoping that someone will read his mind and bring him a drink.