Luke, dressed all in black and sporting a black glove on his right hand, opened the door to his room to the annoyed beeping of Artoo.
"Look, I'm sorry that I couldn't figure out where the elevator is," Luke said, rolling his eyes. "The stairs won't actually kill you, you know
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He paused. "Wait. Trolls?"
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And he did look a lot older. Especially in the eyes.
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"Well, almost," Luke amended. "I got a lot of training, anyway. But then I had to go save Han and Leia." His mouth flattened. "Master Yoda wasn't happy."
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She frowned. "Han and Leia?"
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He looked carefully at Rory. "You look..." tired, his brain supplied. "I've missed you," he repeated instead.
"And Vader decided that torturing Han and Leia would be a cap to a really crap year. He dropped Han into carbonite and disappeared before I could get there to help."
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Luke wasn't exactly imagining her baking a cake, no. And he didn't look happy.
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"Like how she was training me?"
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