Rita Skeeter gestured to the young man who had stepped inside of her little office, "Take a seat, please, honey."
Looking uncertain, the Jedi rubbed at his arm, looking at her strangely, "Rita Skeeter?" he asked slowly.
"That's me, sweetie," she smiled expansively, gesturing to the other chair, "Have a seat, and let's get started!"
One more dubious glance, and he sat down on the very edge of the chair she'd offered him, "You said someone recommended me for an interview?" he asked.
"That I did," she answered, digging in her bag, which she'd placed under her desk, and drawing out a quill and parchment, which the rebel gave a strange look. She smiled toothily at him, "Just some artifacts from another time, my dear."
Luke blinked, still unsure about her and her strange writing tools, "Sure," he said lightly.
Rita tucked her pen into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment before standing it on its end, the parchment floating up off her desk, as Luke stared at it.
"How are you doing that?!" he demanded, reaching out and running a hand bellow it, as if searching for repulsers or the like.
Rita smiled, "That's my secret. But we're not here to talk about me, we're here to talk about you."
Luke frowned slightly, touching the paper with the Force, and it floated a few inches to the side. Satisfied that he'd done all he could to understand it, he opened his eyes, looking at the interviewer. "Uh. Yeah. I still don't know what you want to know. Who is this interview even for?"
"Don't you worry your pretty little head," she answered casually, fluffing up his hair, as he tried unsuccessfully to duck away from her, "Your just answer my questions, and you don't have to worry about a thing."
"Alriiiiight…" he said dubiously, folding his legs, and making himself comfortable on the plush chair, feeling as though he might sink into it.
"So, tell me how you've been fairing since joining the Rebellion," she said, pushing back her hair, and folding one leg over the other, watching him interestedly.
Luke shrugged slightly, "Fine, I guess. It's been a weird transition, though." He ran his hand through his hair, "I mean, one day, I was living with my aunt and uncle, just dealing with farm chores… and then the next day, I was some kind of hero or something."
The quill started scribbling across the page, and Luke couldn't help looking over at it as it trailed green ink across the page of its own accord. Curiously, he tried to sit up straighter, to be tall enough to be able to properly read it, upside down. Rita looked up sharply at him, though, and he sank back into the chair, looking sheepish.
Confused by the sudden changes in his life, Luke Skywalker has found himself struggling to maintain relationships with those close to him.
Rita looked serenely over at the page, and Luke again tried to get a peek at its writing, only to be rebuffed by a look once more.
Sitting down again, he folded his hands together, vaguely playing with a flap of prosthetic skin, torn slightly in a recent fight.
"I hear you haven't been keeping in touch with the people you knew back on Tatooine," Rita murmured, tapping her lip slightly as she met Luke's gaze.
"You mean my aunt and uncle?" Luke asked, surprised. It seemed like bad research not to know about what had happened to them.
"Of course," Rita agreed vaguely, as the pen started scribbling again, "And any friends you had."
Upon closer inspection, it seems as though he may not have had loved ones to maintain relationships with.
"They're dead," Luke said flatly, raising an eyebrow at her, "Didn't you do any research for this interview?"
Reflecting on the deaths of his family, the Jedi seems nothing short of amused. Considering his wanton murder of so many imperials, perhaps this is not unsurprising. Could it be that the hero of the Alliance is no more moral than those he fights against?
"Of course, of course," Rita waved him off, "Were you so emotionally distant as to not have friends where you grew up?"
At this, Luke turned pink, and started fidgeting slightly, "Hey, now… They were kind of jerks… Now that I have a chance at real friends, I wasn't gonna keep dealing with them. They took up enough of my energy when I lived near them!"
Without pause, Skywalker admits to abandoning those who he had once considered close, as soon as he thought that he could gain the favour of someone he deemed better.
"And who do you consider to be your new, better friends?" Skeeter asked, taking out a stick of gum, and starting to chew it loudly, before offering the pack to Luke.
Luke leaned forwards, and took a piece of gum out of the pack, jamming it into his mouth before beginning to fiddle with the wrapper, folding it up and unfolding it in his lap, "Well, it's Leia and Han, mostly… I spend some time with Wedge and the others too, but its them I really feel good with… Han's always got some weird plan I can get in on, and Leia's really good at bailing us out when we get in trouble we can't fix with our blasters."
While he seems to feel that his feelings are legitimate, the prize Jedi claims that he enjoys getting into trouble alongside the notorious smuggler, Han Solo, and making manipulative use of the Princess Leia's political skills to his own ends.
"How does the princess feel about your use of her skills?"
"Leia?" Luke asked, nonplussed, "She doesn't mind. Half the time, she's in on the plans!"
In fact, even the princess seems to be a rather sly character, readily being an accomplice to the plans of the Jedi and the smuggler.
"Heck, she tends to pitch in her OWN ideas!" Luke added defensively, crumpling the gum wrapper accidentally, before returning to distracting himself by trying to smooth it out again.
Or makes her friends accomplice to herself.
"And tell me how you feel about your father," Skeeter said casually, tapping her long fingers on the desk.
Luke's jaw dropped, and the gum wrapper was crumpled again, "THAT'S PRIVATE!" he nearly shouted.
Despite his alleged alliance with the Rebellion, Skywalker jealously hides the secret of his relation to Lord Vader, interested only in protecting his identity from his friends, despite the lies that this choice breeds.
"You didn't seem so concerned about secrecy when you were taking shelter behind your rebel friends after your encounter with the Dark Lord."
"Vader stole Han and cut off my hand!" Luke snapped, standing up sharply, dropping his gum wrapper on the floor as he made a snatch for the quill and paper, just as it scribbled down, The unstable Jedi is likely unsuitable for working with other sentient beings. At a simple question about his dealings with Lord Vader, he exploded with anger at me.
Luke scanned the page quickly, his blush darkening in further embarrassment and anger, "This isn't fair!" he complained, rereading the page, and feeling strange at seeing the words used.
Still, the green quill continued to write, In true form, with his young face and impulsive actions, the Jedi's composure is quick to fall apart under stress, revealing the hurting child he really is.
"This is ridiculous!" Luke repeated, grabbing at the quill, which dodged out of his way at first, before he suddenly snapped the impossibly huge, impossibly quick grip of the Force around the quill, which was squashed flat.
"What is this?!" he demanded.
"Only a simple Quick Quotes Quill," Skeeter said with a shrug, passively watching the struggling quill as Luke reached through his Force-grip to take the bedraggled pen from the centre, squeezing it tightly as he continued to glare at the paper.
"Are you really gonna publish this?" he asked, turning to Skeeter once more.
"Of course!" she said, reaching for it.
"But this is ridiculous!" he said again, before suddenly ripping the paper in half, "It's a bunch of lies, and…. and how did you even know about Bespin?!"
"I have my sources." She folded her arms, leaning back, and watching with just a slight twitch of annoyance as Luke tore the paper to shreds.
"Sources that didn't even tell you about my REAL family! You SERIOUSLY need to get new sources, lady!" he turned his attentions to the struggling quill next, before glaring at Skeeter, "How much were you controlling this?" he demanded, brandishing it.
"My quill does a fair amount of the writing," she answered defensively, although she finally seemed to understand that he was angry with her.
"Great. I'd feel bad about doing this to you," Luke snarled, and pulled the pen apart, dropping the downy remains of the feather on her desk.
"Do me a favour, and don't try to put these back together," he finished, dumping the remains of the interview on top of the quill. He stalked out of the office, grabbing the door and glaring back at her, "I hope you grow a sense of right and wrong," he said angrily, slamming the door shut.
Rita Skeeter looked down at what was left of her interview with the Jedi, shrugged slightly, and began to try to piece it back together.