"Good idea, that way you can set up a rotation," Baze says, tamping down the urge to pull a prank on Chirrut and shuffle his plants around. Unlike the ice bath Baze gave him two days before while he was sleeping, that would have a significantly longer lasting impact--as long as it took to sort out the plants, anyway--and be eminently more frustrating.

Pity. It would have been a great prank, if Baze didn't have a conscience.

He leaves the bin where Chirrut can find it, and starts transplanting pots over to the table Chirrut indicated, whistling again.

"How many pots will we need? A hundred? Or not that many yet?"