This isn't exactly Tosche Station, huh?

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...]

Despite his best intentions and his promise to Rikku, Luke still found himself spending a lot more time alone in his room than normal.

He’d discovered that the amount of effort it took to show the rest of the world how Completely Fine he was during the day was exhausting.

It didn’t help that the entire month of August was like navigating a mined asteroid field: still reeling from Rory’s revelation about his parents, the anniversary of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru’s deaths hit him like a body blow.

Yesterday had been Alderaan Day back home. He’d pushed past his embarrassment and residual anger at Leia to call and check up, only to be greeted with a clipped “I’m fine,” and an “I’m sure you have more important things to be attending to.” The entire conversation had taken longer to connect than to conduct.

He didn’t blame her: he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for dealing well with issues these days. See also: avoiding thinking about the entire issue by spending most of last night in the common room watching mindless television.

He curled his legs up under him, batted away Artoo’s worried attempts to help, and stared off into nothingness. Today was the anniversary of Ben’s death. A few days from now was Biggs’.

Luke was beginning to wonder if the memories of last August were going to crush him entirely.

( Skywalkers and their emotions were never exactly what one would call subtle. )

[That Luke have a conversation with himself is FB, who with and what about not so much.]

Let It Be - The Beatles

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.]

Artoo tootled quietly to himself as two figures followed along behind him and then stopped in front of the door to Anakin's office.

Luke crept up and turned to Rory. "Did you bring everything?" he whispered.