* phantom pains.

     “i’m talking about how you’re here. right now. and you were up last night, too.”   well, night meaning whatever rotation they pick for sleep out in space, anyway. the droids can keep a watch and they both know it.

     uh, not that he’s been keeping tabs.

     luke drops into the other chair and pulls up one knee, a pose that makes him look younger. he’s still dressed — still in his boots, even.   “just thinking, i guess.”   then amends, half smiling,    “daydreaming.”    some have said.

       ❛ you keeping tabs? ❜   she asks anyway. it comes out more amused than accusatory, but that’s okay. she’s too tired to pick a fight, and at this point, she’s spent enough time with luke to know he means well. even when he’s--- you know, A Lot. she watches out the corner of her eye while he settles into the other seat.

       her mouth twists to one side in a sort of halfhearted frown, and she says,   ❛ if you’re talking about the dark circles, it’s just my face. ❜   even so, luke isn’t completely off-base. it’s not that audrey doesn’t sleep--- at odd hours and in strange places, granted--- but whether she’s sleeping well is a different question.  and no, she isn’t.

@ungratefuldead asked:   ❝ i can’t trust anyone or anything these days. ❞ but like, melodramatically

     “Tell me about it,”   he sighs without looking up from her computer, like he doesn’t know exactly what this is about, which is Him, Sitting With Her Computer. He doesn’t normally snoop this openly, but he got bored waiting for her. Guessing her password ate up some of the time, but getting into her apartment was really, shockingly easy, given that he stole her key a few months back and let her think she’d lost it.

     “You were out of baklava,”   he says, by way of explanation for the box on the table. Click, click at the trackpad.   “Hey, what the hell is a Zoombini?”

       ❛ gee, sorry i haven’t been stocking my fridge for you specifically, ❜   she grumbles, kicking her shoes off next to the door. she moves to the table, where the lid of the box in question is flipping open and closed, as if it were a toy batted at by a curious kitten.   ❛ some guard dog you are, ❜   she tells ted, shooing the cloud of ectoplasm away from the snacks.

it’s a little different (in that mainverse audrey is surrounded by normies and can hide her mediumship by lying to psychiatrists / generally Not Talking About It, while for sw audrey, hiding her presence in the force is a power in itself), but the crux of it is still there! and i think that’s why it’s my favorite verse!

     “jimmy?”   the look on his face says, no way, but in a completely different direction.   “wow, i haven’t heard from him in years.”

     artoo beeps, but it’s less a word and more a noise. luke doesn’t bother asking what’s up. if artoo wanted to say it, he would. but if something’s got that droid contemplating, then what’s going on in his circuitry is anyone’s guess.

     “what about this? maybe i could come on your next run, if the two of you don’t mind too much.”   his tone, less blindingly eager and more restrained, indicates that he already knows how much she minds. he pauses.   “all you have to do is talk to me for one trip.”

       she doesn’t know what else she was expecting. at this point, you could pluck a random stranger off the street, and she’d believe that luke was on a first-name basis with them, their kids, and their second cousin twice removed. which is, unfortunately, a quality that’s hard to dislike.  fuck this guy and his--- genuine interest in the people around him.  as complaints go, it’s lackluster.

       audrey purses her lips, thinking over the offer. they both know jimmy won’t mind; that's not the problem. one trip, he says. just one trip.