In the now Skywalkerian grand tradition of being forced to confront your long-buried destiny and kneejerkingly refusing it, Walky throws a small object over his shoulder.

We’re reaching the part of the Joyce and Walky! archives that were lost during my oft-mentioned harddrive failure.  These were drawn digitally, so there’s nothing to rescan, and I don’t got the time to redraw them from scratch.  So I’ve shrugged, pulled them off the old website, sized them up to modern expectations, and sharpened them.  You… almost can’t tell.  And you likely wouldn’t have if I hadn’t told you!  Dangit!