Different. Luke wanted to laugh, but he feared she'd interpret it as laughing at her. "Yes," he said. "We are very different. Do you want to know what I'd done, by your age?" He looked down at her, unable to stop the smile at just how off she was. "I spent 'my entire life' wishing I was somewhere else, wanting to join the Imperial Academy, risking my neck in a souped-up skyhopper, whining and moaning to my very patient aunt and uncle that no one understood me. And, all right. Questioning who I was, weaving stories in my head about my parents. Wanting to be someone 'important.'"

He almost spat that last word, amusement fading.

"We don't need to be important, Rey. We need to do the important. I don't know where you came from, and I don't care. It wouldn't make one bit of difference, to me or the Force, whether your parents had never heard of the Force or whether you're Yoda's granddaughter. My father was Darth Vader. My nephew is Kylo Ren. My sister is General Organa. And none of that, really, tells me who I am. Does it?"