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Summary
“That’ll scar.” Han stood behind him, nervously. He’d always been nervous around him, first, because he was a baby, and Han didn’t understand babies, and then, because he had the Force, and Han didn’t understand the Force. “Girls like scars.”
“It’s not like it matters.” Ben looked out at the thousands of spires. “I’m going to be a Jedi.”
Han grunted in sympathy, and then sat next to him, swinging his legs off the side of the tower. The urge to feel alive, to take risks and taste danger – that was what he’d inherited from his father. “Heard you got off the hook.”
“Not exactly. Community service.”
“Better than a detention block.” Han leaned back on his hands.
Ben scoffed. “It’s asinine.”
His father shifted, looking up at the stars, through the hazy, translucent atmosphere of Hosnian Prime. “What do they have you doing? Picking up orbit pollution, or something?”
“Worse.” Ben snorted. “Teaching orphans to read and write Basic. On Jakku.”
Han winced. “Only slightly better than a detention block.”