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"You're going to freeze over there."

Baze tossed a pebble at Chirrut's back. He liked to sit in the window while he meditated, and Baze believed it was solely to aggravate his concern. Chirrut had never fallen out of a window; but he could be shot out of one, if a passing stormtrooper or other unfriendly felt so inclined. They'd found a place, safe and quiet but not far from the center of the city; not far from the destroyed, occupied temple. Baze had made as many repairs as he could to make the room tolerable. Sometimes it was still too cold, but they managed.

"Come eat."

Since the occupation and closing of the temple, meals were not entirely as regular as they used to be. Baze didn't mind austerity; he did mind starving. Living in an occupied city made life harder than it had ever been before, no matter what weather or natural disaster they might have faced. But this different, oppressive. People were suffering because of the Empire's very presence.

"Chirrut.

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Baze Malbus

February 2017

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