[Luke is not really one for these sorts of things. Social gatherings, fundraisers, mixers, and the like are really more his sister's forte, an arena he's not all that well versed in. Sure, he's more than happy to allow Lando, Han, or the Rogues to drag him out on the occasional night on the town (tame though his idea of such might be). Still, he could hardly not attend, if only to show some sort of support for the project. He agreed wholly with the community coming together, after all. And as a representative of the Republic, both old and new, it was his responsibility to at least see what was going on.
His formal Master's robes, brown with a white underlay, were appropriate enough he felt...despite Deadpool saying otherwise...and upon entering the barracks he removes his hood. He's devoid of many other markings save an insignia pin on his inner tunic and a pair of silver tubes hanging from his belt, generally hidden by the outer robe.
The food draws his attention first, and he'll gather up a plate of simple things: sushi, a bit of chicken, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Fizzpops here came in such a wide variety, but given that back home most carbonated drinks were unpalatable for humans he never really branched out much from the ones he knew were safe even here. Better to have the same thing over and over than risk a drink meant for a Gamorrean, after all.
Food acquired, the Jedi takes a seat where he can watch the proceedings. The alcohol gets a pass, though after a meal he will indulge himself with a bit of chocolate. The sparring gets a cursory glance, of course, though he never feels quite right with public displays of combat prowess. The Echani and Palawan arts he'd learned during the early years of the war didn't permit such things outside specific circumstances, and while he rarely practiced them anymore it still didn't feel right breaking the tradition. Still, it's nice to watch.
Anyone who approaches can be assured a smile and a conversation, though Luke is content to watch and listen unless someone wants to talk.]
Luke
His formal Master's robes, brown with a white underlay, were appropriate enough he felt...despite Deadpool saying otherwise...and upon entering the barracks he removes his hood. He's devoid of many other markings save an insignia pin on his inner tunic and a pair of silver tubes hanging from his belt, generally hidden by the outer robe.
The food draws his attention first, and he'll gather up a plate of simple things: sushi, a bit of chicken, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Fizzpops here came in such a wide variety, but given that back home most carbonated drinks were unpalatable for humans he never really branched out much from the ones he knew were safe even here. Better to have the same thing over and over than risk a drink meant for a Gamorrean, after all.
Food acquired, the Jedi takes a seat where he can watch the proceedings. The alcohol gets a pass, though after a meal he will indulge himself with a bit of chocolate. The sparring gets a cursory glance, of course, though he never feels quite right with public displays of combat prowess. The Echani and Palawan arts he'd learned during the early years of the war didn't permit such things outside specific circumstances, and while he rarely practiced them anymore it still didn't feel right breaking the tradition. Still, it's nice to watch.
Anyone who approaches can be assured a smile and a conversation, though Luke is content to watch and listen unless someone wants to talk.]