Luke chuckled. It might have been the first laugh he'd expressed in years. "I don't know if it was in the way you mean," he offered. "I was... probably about your age. And half as worldly. I looked like I'd never left the farm, if you know what I mean. At least, that's what Han told me, later..."

He shook his head, lost for a moment in nostalgia, until she spoke again.

"Now that... that's something I can't explain," he mused, almost to himself. He'd refused to acknowledge the saber when handed to him. Refused to entertain the natural curiosity at its presence on the island, in the hands of this girl. He was breaking his own self-imposed exile by entertaining it now--almost as if he'd forgotten to keep it in place. "I don't know how Maz got hold of it. Last time I saw it..."

He trailed off again, lost in another type of memory.