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[t65]

Who: Leia Organa imahologram & Some Other Guy crudematter
When: 4/27 eveningish
Where: The Hangar Bay
What: Two adults politely and rationally discuss their opinions on marriage, family, and becoming wizards.
Warnings: This is a PG franchise, kids. Go ask your mother.

[Luke has been spending his time, more and more often, in the hangar bay, surrounded by the assorted droid parts he's been given for his new job. Initially, he'd been doing the work in his room, but concern over whether he was annoying his roommates has moved him here, among the hustle of transport shuttles.]

[He's sitting next to two empty coffee cups, with his torso half inside the outer shell of a quarter-finished gonk droid. He's finally managed to get outfitted with a prosthetic hand, and while it's not the most elegant thing in the world-- it's clearly, obviously mechanical-- it does the job well; he can make droids much faster, if he has two hands to make them with.]

Comments

[imahologram]

Are you sure?

[There are so many other questions she wants to ask. What's wrong? and Why do you sound so sorrowful all of a sudden?, and plenty more beyond.

But Luke deserves his privacy, and if she's wondered for a year what's bothering him, she can wonder a while longer. Even without Han's warning not to press him, she wouldn't.]

He'd want to hear from you, you know.

[t65]

Why me? [He shrugs, trying to play it off as nothing.] We're twins, right? He shouldn't play favorites.

[The joke comes out a bit hollow, but he's trying.]

[imahologram]

He could get to know you better. [She follows his lead on this one, taking a light tone that says this doesn't matter, even though they both know it does.] Have you spent much time with him?

[t65]

[Luke rocks back on his heels, and his smile becomes strained.] A little. Enough to know he'd appreciate it from you. [Kindly, gently, the joke dying quietly.]

[imahologram]

Luke...

[But if she's not going to press, she's not going to press. Sighing, she leans forward and loops an arm around him in a loose embrace, little caring if any of his grease stains make their way over to her. Grow up a tomboy princess and you learn to get all kinds of stains out of white clothes.]

Fine. But you should talk to him. You have plenty in common. [More than he and I do, and we get along just fine.]

[t65]

[Luke sighs, and tries to hide how worrying he finds that statement. He hugs her back, and lets her go.]

Listen to it. Tell me... what you think.

[imahologram]

I will.

[She reaches up to touch his cheek, wiping off a bit of engine grease.]

Get some sleep, all right?