Work Text:
Grand Master Yoda of the Jedi Order considered the young man kneeling in front of him. Security had found the boy somewhere he wasn't meant to be, and Yoda had been asked to give his opinion as a visiting expert.
Luke Lars, he claimed his name to be. Clearly lying, he was, but yet Yoda did not sense that he was a threat. Powerful, certainly, in the Force, but not a threat.
“Vouch for young Lars, I will,” Yoda said to their host, marveling at the relief, gratitude, and–strangely–affection he felt pour out into the Force in response. “Leave him in my care, you may.”
The security team was obviously reluctant to agree to Yoda's wishes, but they were overruled by their superior who was eager to hand the problem over to the Jedi Master.
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When they were alone together, young Lars relaxed somewhat but remained kneeling, his posture familiar to Yoda from the many generations of Jedi he had helped to bring up.
“Hmmpf. Used to speaking with someone of my stature, you are,” Yoda commented, resting both of his hands on his staff and seeking out eye contact with his new charge.
Lars–Luke, yes, Luke rung with the truth, at least–finally smiled, a sparkle of good humor in his eyes.
“Yes, Master,” he said. “Someone wise once told me, ‘Size matters not.’”