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.

After his workshop with Mr. Winchester, Luke came back to his room to convince Artoo that Leia had gone home.

Artoo, still in the closet, remained unconvinced.

"I wouldn't lie to you about this," Luke told the door, rolling his eyes. "She came, she saw him, she had ice cream, she went home. Really ( Read more... )

After a few hours poking around on the X-Wing with Artoo and a quick check to see if Leia had written--she had, and there was still no sign of Han--Luke flung himself onto his bed and began to practice with the Force.

Yoda was not excited to be one of the things chosen to be juggled ( Read more... )

Luke was lounging on his bed juggling: he had a pen, a boot and a pissed-off turtle spinning in circle.

Sometimes Force training could look a lot like goofing off.

But he figured that between classes and borrowing Vader's TIE fighter to help rescue Aeryn (even it it had involved being hit on by two different aliens, what the hell), he deserved ( Read more... )