[Luke was sweating before-- it's Tatooine, someone's always sweating-- but now his hair is matted to his forehead, and his shirt sticks to his chest. He's panting like he came in from a long run.]
[Still, when she takes his hand, he squeezes it, attempting to be reassuring or heroic. Someone who's got your back, certainly.]
How is it your fault? [He's walking, maybe a little slowly, back to the speeder. As far as he's concerned, some womprats are going to smell those bodies soon and he doesn't want Cassandra to have to see them picked apart. It's not a pretty image.]
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[Still, when she takes his hand, he squeezes it, attempting to be reassuring or heroic. Someone who's got your back, certainly.]
How is it your fault? [He's walking, maybe a little slowly, back to the speeder. As far as he's concerned, some womprats are going to smell those bodies soon and he doesn't want Cassandra to have to see them picked apart. It's not a pretty image.]