Chirrut swallows, heavily. That has been pointed out - pointed out and underlined.

He feels adrift with the knowledge that even now, there's a rage behind his breastbone towards this supposed boy. That boy shot his Baze.

"One who shot you." He knows he's a mess. The Force hasn't stopped roiling in his presence since that night, making him long for the calm that used to be there.

"You must be thirsty, they said you would be." He pulls at Baze's hands so he can turn to reach the water.