Luke's eyes widened as they apparently walked into a desert. He could taste the dry, dusty tang in his mouth that had been so familiar back on Tatooine, and that he was sure would follow him for the rest of his life. The air had that desert stillness, too; every sound he made, every scrape of foot on stone or sand, seemed oddly magnified to him. It made him miss Tatooine (purely for its familiarity) intensely.

"This is your home planet, then?" he asked, accepting the bowl with a soft word of thanks and drinking it. "This is where you are from?" He sat on the pallet, looking up at her with his own very blue eyes. It had to be; it smelled the same as she did.