Best Intention, Bad Idea

[idontneedluck]

Light running footsteps echo in the solemn stone hallways of the temple, though the inhabitents seem well used to such things. A whip of a man, lean and light and full of a boundless energy that is the bane of the martial arts masters is on the hunt.

When he catches up with his quarry, he is in a fantastically good mood, making his gestures expansive and his smiles luminescent.

"Baze! Baze, come, we are going out." It doesn't even seem to cross his mind that Baze might balk at this directive.

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[idontneedluck]

Chirrut, standing haphazardly at Baze's shoulder and generally looking worse for wear, bows his head.

"Yes, sir."

"And Chirrut?" Elder Koroban's voice is deceptively soft - there's amusement under there that Chirrut doesn't trust at all.

"Yes sir?"

"Master Sheotar is waiting for you in the courtyard." That brings his head up in a hurry, which he regrets immediately afterwards.

"But sir...!" The protest dies there, and his shoulders slump. He can already tell there will be no staying this particular torture.

"Baze, think fondly of me when I'm gone." He says mournfully as he scoops up his staff.