Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or George Lucas.
Enter Gaeriel, with jizz music playing in the background, on Bakura.
Gaeriel looks at a painting of Luke's struggle with the giant Sarasu Taalon. In frustration, she tosses darts at the painting.
Gaeriel. Jedi . . . and their stupid quests.
Enter Dol Captison, Gaeriel's white-haired father.
Dol. Gaeriel. What in space are you doing? Turn off that . . .
Gaeriel flips off the music.
Gaeriel. Come in.
Dol steps into Gaeriel's quarters.
Dol. What is going on? It's 0300.
Gaeriel. I couldn't sleep.
Dol glances at the painting of Luke.
Dol. So . . . I take it your friend isn't coming to Prytis?
Gaeriel. I don't know.
Dol. We leave in the morning. If he hasn't made up his mind yet . . .
Gaeriel. He's probably not coming. Happy?
Dol. Are you still having bad dreams? Headaches?
Gaeriel tosses darts at the painting.
Gaeriel. I should never have told you about that.
Dol. I'm your father. I'm worried about you.
Gaeriel. Or worried about the family's reputation.
Dol. We could call Dr. Tharn. He helped you get through the death of your tusk-pig.
Gaeriel. I was six then. And no, Father, I don't need a therapist. I just . . .
Dol. It will be good for you to get away. You've had some unhealthy influences.
Gaeriel. I'm not going to the Bakur Senatorial Academy. And my friends are none of your business.
Dol. [smiles] Try to get some sleep. We'll be at the beach by tomorrow night. It will be fun.
Gaeriel. Fun. A lot of fun.
Exit Dol.
Gaeriel glances at Luke's painting.
I hope they're dreams.
Gaeriel uncovers two other paintings, one of Jacen Caedus at nine years old, the other of the Sith army advancing on the Imperial Palace.
Luke. What is going on?
Exit all.
