"Yes, yes, I hear you. I just don't think that there's room for you." A young brunette was talking into a bluetooth headset, though the person on the other end was anything but human. Or made of flesh. "You can't fit on my frankenbike, BB-8."
Rey rolled her eyes and hung up. If she didn't know better she'd think BB-8 had picked up backtalk from Artoo. But the only other droid in Orange County was Ahsoka's astromech and that one only really had half the personality of Artoo or BB-8.
She was wearing a loose blouse and slacks, the kind of thing that someone used to warm weather tended to prefer, and she had something like a cane or walking staff, about three feet long that she leaned on casually as she picked through a box of hoses. Her hair, as she tended to prefer these days, hung down past her shoulders.
It was Anakin'sthe crystal singing to her from inside the new lightsaber she'd built, that she kept hidden in the cane that alerted her to something, just before she felt the tug in the Force.
Like she, or the crystal or both recognized it. Only she couldn't place it. And like she usually did, she rolled with it, walking out of one aisle and turning down another.