This isn't exactly Tosche Station, huh?

Luke was putting the last of his belongings into bags and boxes and trying not to be too upset about leaving Fandom forever tomorrow morning.

Outside his alcove, Artoo was selling copies of Fandom's Greatest Humiliations over the last two years for what he felt was a very reasonable price.

Whenever the melancholy threatened to overwhelm Luke, he'd look over at the little droid who'd begin to whistle "Doe, a Deer."

Artoo wasn't big on feeling sorry for yourself.

[OOC: Luke's farewell post! Come say goodbye :(]

After last night's...terrible, terrible experience in the common room, Luke was planning on a nice, relaxing night in his room.

Under his covers.

Whimpering.

Artoo, on the other hand, was at Luke's desk making many, many CDs of the performance.

He'd also propped the door open when Luke wasn't paying attention. Evil droid.

[OOC: ooooopen!]

Luke trotted through the preserve muttering to himself. "Who gets summoned in the middle of the night by their father to meet in the woods?" he grumbled. "Besides me, of course."

He stepped into the clearing. "Hello?"

If this was an elaborate training exercise, he was going to complain to somebody.

Luke was on the floor painting his new egg son bright orange. Ever now and then he'd sigh and stare up at the ceiling.

"Vladdie, there's really no reason to stay up there," he said.

Vladdie disagreed.

Over in his turtle tank, Yoda was equally upset, but being a turtle, it was tougher to tell.

The door was open.

Luke, hair sticking up in hundred different directions, finally uncurled himself from around Jo and went in search of coffee.

And aspirin.

And ice.

And his shirt, which he was positive he'd started the evening with.

He opened the door to the hallway and blinked, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the hall lights.

[For them that know who they are...]

Luke had decided that since he'd been in his room for a year, it was time to finally put up evidence that he lived there. Since he didn't have stuff, that took the form of photographs and holos of friends: he, Han and Leia right after the first Death Star, he and Wedge drunk later that same night, he, Rikku and Dawn looking giggly and high on sugar, he and Jaina, he and Rory, he and Tori...he and Z.

There weren't any photographs of him and his father (those were stuffed into a drawer at the moment) and he kept taking down Artoo's offering of a holo of him and Gavin believing they were Siegfried and Roy.

Corellian rock music was playing and the door was open. If he was caught staring off into space, well, he might've been reliving parts of last week's date with Jo.

[OOC: Open like a thing that is not closed.]

After spending some time removing onion dip from Artoo’s internal systems—Force know how that had gotten there—Luke finally reached for his comlink and made a long-delayed transmission.

Leia answered immediately, and Luke chattered happily on about his workshops—and Tori— and some of the new students he’d met, including Bigg’s cousin—and Tori—and why getting bit by a gremlin had been a terrible mistake.

Leia laughed for a solid minute once Luke explained who Siegfried and Roy were. “It sounds like you’re settling right back in,” she said.

Luke nodded, then took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have taken this long to do it.”

“What happened to the shuttle?” Leia asked immediately, eyebrows flying up.

“Nothing,” Luke said, “but when I came back to Fandom, I wasn’t alone.”

Then he told her who’d been with him.

Leia’s momentary silence was the dangerous calm of the Tatooine desert before a wind storm kicked up.

“He’s WHAT?! You WHAT?! You waited how long to tell me?!” she exploded, her voice loud enough to be heard down the hallway.

Artoo moaned and rolled into Luke’s closet.

Luke chewed on his lower lip. “I was wrong,” he said quietly.

“’Wrong’ doesn’t come close to describing this, Luke Skywalker,” Leia spat, her image going in and out of his view as she paced. “He stood there on the Death Star and did nothing as Ald…he put Han into…He’s alive?!”

Her eyes finally focused on Luke’s and the anger in them made him flinch backwards. “I’m coming to see him,” she said, every inch the icy royal. “I’ll be there on Friday. We’ll talk about this more when I arrive.”

Her image shut off abruptly and Luke let out a deep sigh.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.

From the closet, Artoo wibbled his agreement.

[OOC: Leia was loud, ya'll. Feel free to knock on the door.]

After leaving Rory a message to meet for lunch in the clearing she'd mentioned to him, Luke had wandered down to J, GOB for the proper supplies.

Being a boy, they leaned heavily towards Things Stuck Between Bread and Things Made of Chocolate and not so much with the vegetables or fruit.

He plopped down on the grass and tried to process some of the people he'd met in the last few days: a frog, a giant turtle, a girl from the future (though not his), Gavin--who wasn't nine years old any more, apparently-- a Padawan from the past, and oh, let's not forget, his niece. What the hell, Fandom, what the hell.

The people in Platypus seemed to be pretty great, though -- and Annette seemed really excited about his date with Tori.

Not that he was nervous about that. At all.

Except for the part where he was.

His gaze rested on initials carved into a tree nearby and he fought the instinct to roll his eyes. Hopefully his father hadn't done anything stupid to Rory in the last few weeks.

He wasn't counting on it, though.

[OOC: for rory__gilmore, please]