This isn't exactly Tosche Station, huh?

Luke was lying on his stomach watching the video feeds of Anakin's lightsaber workouts that Peter had given him and taking notes. He'd occasionally freeze a section and stand up to reenact the pose.

It wasn't the fastest way to learn a weapon, but it was working. Not that he wanted to confront Vader any time soon (he was enjoying his classes (even if he and Bridge were never going to be friends), chatting with interesting people (though his conversation with Schrodinger had been a little strange), and going to a carnival and a dance too much to want to fling himself into a potentially suicidal confrontation) but the scales must be balanced eventually.

He just hoped that the lessons he was getting with Aeryn and the things he had learned from the library would be enough, at least until he got a chance to spar with Angel. And he was a good shot, too--even though he was certain that more than a few people had probably attempted that approach already. And trying for a strafing run in the X-Wing was just silly (even if Rory had liked the flight).

He picked up the stick he'd been using to imitate the weight of the lightsaber and tried to repeat one of his father's complicated movements against the training remote, stumbling a little on the footwork. Luke pressed his lips together and tried again.

He was going to get this right.

[OOC: Mostly a linkdrop of doom but if anyone wants to stop in to see him barreling around like a bantha, the door is knockable.]