[Wedge sat there patiently while Luke visibly mulled over just what all he could say. In the meantime, he studied the younger man closely as though he could discern what was wrong with him by just visual clues alone.

The Corellian shot him a concerned look across the table. After the staggering losses Red Squadron had suffered in the battle of Yavin 4, Wedge had been about as low as he’d been since his parents deaths. The bratty farmboy from Tatooine who had helped save the day had pulled him out of that funk and these days, he considered Luke Skywalker to be one of his closest friends. So the thought of having lost him during the exodus from Hoth had been unconscionable.] Don’t go disappearing off on your own like that, Skywalker. Seems to me every time Jedi business comes up, that’s when you need a wingman more than ever.

[His gaze was dragged down to Luke’s arm briefly and his eyes widened briefly at the unmistakable seam of synthflesh that indicated the site of the fresh prosthetic hand.] Stars, Luke…I was working up a real head of steam to be pissed off with you but then you go and pull something like this.