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“Sergeant Rook?”

I’m never going to get used to that, Bodhi thinks, and turns to face whoever it is. “Yes?”

Oh.

Mop-top, dirty blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Farm boy good looks.

“Hi,” he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker.”

Bodhi thinks he might throw up. “You’re the—“

“—Jedi,” Luke finishes, nodding. “I get that a lot.”

The filter between Bodhi’s brain and his mouth decides this would be an excellent time to short circuit. “I thought you’d be—“

“—taller,” Luke says, with another nod and an easy, if self-deprecating, smile. “If you tell me it’s an honor to meet me, you’ll be three for three. Bonus points if you tell me that shot was one in a million.”

Bodhi opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times, but nothing comes out. Heat creeps into his cheeks. Well done, Bodhi, he chides himself, Two seconds in front of a living legend and you’ve already made an absolute fool of yourself. “Uh…” he finally squeaks out, “Sorry?”

Luke relents. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault everybody says the same things.” He leans forward, interest sparking in his eyes. “What’s yours?”

Bodhi’s embarrassment cedes a bit of ground to bafflement. “My… what?”

“Your thing. The thing everybody says when they meet you?” When Bodhi just blinks at him, Luke continues, “You must have one. I mean, you’re a legend.”

“I am?” Bodhi squeaks.

“Sure,” Luke says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You came up with the callsign, and everything.” He pauses, his incredible charisma dimming a moment with shyness. “Actually, I’m… kind of thinking of naming my squadron after you. Rogue, I mean.”

“You—you are?” Bodhi stammers. When did the room get so spinny?

“Oh, jeez,” Luke says. “Here.” He pushes a nearby crate over just in time for Bodhi to sit down on it, a little harder than he’d meant to. Luke leans over him. “I’m sorry. Maybe Leia’s rubbing off on me. Are you okay?”

Bodhi takes a few deep breaths. “I think so?”

“Okay,” Luke says, like he’s not quite sure he buys it. “Okay. Hang on.” He pulls another crate over and sits on it, facing Bodhi. He holds out his hand to shake. “Start over. Hi. I’m Luke.”

Bodhi scrapes himself together enough to shake the proffered hand.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Sergeant Rook,” Luke says.

“Bodhi,” he corrects. “Please. The rank is still…”

“Tell me about it,” Luke says with a sympathetic grimace. “I’m ‘Commander Skywalker’ now. Talk about weird.”

Bodhi nods. He thinks for a moment. “It’s ‘you’re The Pilot.’”

Luke blinks, then gets it. “Oh, right! Your thing.”

Bodhi can’t help but grin. He’s never really thought about it before, but now that he does, it’s totally true. “Yep,” he says, “The Pilot. Capital letters.”

Luke laughs. “That might be worse than mine. At least I get some variation.”

It’s infectious. Bodhi’s grin widens, his embarrassment seeping away in the face of Luke’s aggressive friendliness. “Oh,” he says, remembering, “Did you need something? Before I stuck my entire foot in my mouth?”

“No,” Luke says. “Well, I wanted to ask you about the squad name, but really I just…” He starts up. “If you’re busy, I can go.”

“Not at all,” Bodhi says hastily. “I just thought…”

“Thought?” Luke prompts.

“Well, why else would you talk to me?” Bodhi says, worrying slightly at the fabric of his jumpsuit.

Luke’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs. “Because you’re Bodhi Rook! I’ve wanted to meet you since I read the mission debrief from Scarif.”

Bodhi blinks. “Me? Not Cassian, or Jyn?”

“I mean, them too,” Luke says, “But it’s you I really wanted to meet.”

“Oh,” Bodhi says.

“Because you’re The Pilot,” Luke says, exaggerating the capital letters and waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh,” Bodhi says again. He tries to wrap his head around the idea of it, that this Jedi, this impossibility who made the – yes – one in a million shot without his targeting computer

…admires him?

“I think I need some caf,” Bodhi decides finally. Then, more hesitantly, “You’re welcome to join me?”

Luke’s face lights up. “I’d like that.”