Chirrut frees one of his hands to feel the expression on Baze's face, his touch feather-light.

"Baze..." There is heavy reluctance in his tone. Reluctance, and stubbornness, and pride...

"If you will it." And his voice has gone hollow. He doesn't know what the right answer is, and right now Baze is his strength. "But I do not know who I am, if I am not a Guardian."