Chirrut steps back and to the side, gesturing them into his and Baze's quarters and taking himself out of the way at the same time. It's showy, almost grandiose, and also partly lost in shadow because he forgets to hit the light plate until he's in the middle of doing it. “Clearly,” he says, “this is a matter to be discussed over tea. Baze!” Over his shoulder. “Would you mind putting on the kettle for our guests?”
“That you are not at home,” Chirrut says to Cassian, “does not mean you are not welcome. Please, come in. We secured a table and chairs week before last.”
This is true. Where exactly the table came from is uncertain – probably food service surplus – but it is just small enough to be shoved into the corner not occupied by a battered desk or two bunks shoved together as well. There are three chairs, an integrated heating element style kettle set pride of place on the tabletop, and a pretty painted tea tin beside it. (Cassian won't recognize the brand, but Bodhi might – it's Ithorian, packaged for export off planet but mostly bought by members of the Ithorian diaspora. A gift from Murr in Comms, whose cousin sent two tins in their most recent care package. He gave the Guardians the tin design he considers “the better one,” an aerial view of the Cathor Hills.)
And there's Baze, who doesn't actually sleep with his cannon. At least not on this particular base.
“You needn't apologize,” Chirrut says to Cassian, somewhere between a pronouncement and a confidence. “I myself am usually following at most two thirds of anything.”
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-01-15 04:38 am (UTC)“That you are not at home,” Chirrut says to Cassian, “does not mean you are not welcome. Please, come in. We secured a table and chairs week before last.”
This is true. Where exactly the table came from is uncertain – probably food service surplus – but it is just small enough to be shoved into the corner not occupied by a battered desk or two bunks shoved together as well. There are three chairs, an integrated heating element style kettle set pride of place on the tabletop, and a pretty painted tea tin beside it. (Cassian won't recognize the brand, but Bodhi might – it's Ithorian, packaged for export off planet but mostly bought by members of the Ithorian diaspora. A gift from Murr in Comms, whose cousin sent two tins in their most recent care package. He gave the Guardians the tin design he considers “the better one,” an aerial view of the Cathor Hills.)
And there's Baze, who doesn't actually sleep with his cannon. At least not on this particular base.
“You needn't apologize,” Chirrut says to Cassian, somewhere between a pronouncement and a confidence. “I myself am usually following at most two thirds of anything.”