A dark-haired toddler wandered through a hall in the jedi temple, fuming silently. One of her hands clutched a tattered blanket; the other was inside the four-year-old's mouth. As the human youngling sucked her thumb furiously, she noticed two padawans chatting amiably. Brooke approached them sternly. "Where's Mista Quigy?" she demanded with a tone of ferocity only a toddler can obtain. As the older jedi exchanged glances, the little girl stuck a damp finger accusingly out at them. "Well?"
"Uhhh… he's with the force." Brooke frowned in confusement. "Ya mean da wavey-wavey push force? Dat make no sense."
One of the padawans giggled. "He's dead," the other one explained. Brooke smiled condescendingly.
"Mista Quigy can't die," she insisted. The youngling's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I fink Yoda kidnapped him!"