Luke threaded his hands through his silver locks, studying a datapad on the sofa in Han and Leia's home. His sister noticing her brother's constant fiddling with his hair nudged her husband, urging him to make the first inquiry.
"Why me?" He whispered quietly.
"Just do it."
Han shrugged and got up from their diningroom table and ambled over to the sofa, taking a seat on the chair across from it. "So…Luke ol' buddy."
"Hmm?" Luke attention was fastened on the datapad.
Han threw a helpless look at his wife and Leia made a shooing motion.
"Luke...I have a question…"
"What is it, Han?" He inquired, eyes never moving, a finger tapping the pad as he curled a lock of silver-blond bang around his index finger.
"What's with the fascination with your hair?"
Luke finally lifted his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, you seem to...umm fiddle with it a lot."
Luke momentarily stopped playing with the bang. It had grown pretty long since he hadn't had his hair cut in awhile and was almost falling down into his eyes. He eyed the silver strand-and smiled.
"It's getting long is all."
Leia frowned, obviously not liking Han's route inquiry.
Luke gave a short smile. "Are my grays that obvious?"
"Uh…"
"I guess I do have a fascination with them." He examined the strand then attempted to push it off his forehead. It fell back across his face.
"Oh?"
"Yes, I like my grays."
"Really?"
"Any particular reason, Luke?" Leia asked—she'd been edging closer.
"Mara."
"Mara?"
"Mara liked my gray hair. She said it looked good on me; told me never to try to cover it up because it was a testament to what I'd been through. Said it was like a badge of honor." He chuckled. "So, I've started to like it…because she did." He winked.
"And I have to agree with her…it does look good on me...It does make me look…'" He flipped his silvery bangs with grin. "..very dashing.."