Baze leans on the door, waiting. No, kriff that, he starts peeling his robes off. He's hot, and tired, and his muscles are aching from all the abuse he put them through, and he's still got kitchen duties later tonight. He needs to be clean.

And Chirrut, damn it all, continues to be worrying. He's clearly avoiding Baze, and it hurts. It hurts more than Baze has ever hurt before; no matter what faced them, Chirrut always had his back. And now? Baze is unsure what he did to cause this, but if he can apologize, well... Maybe things will go back to normal.

"I'm sorry," Baze says, pressing his palms and forehead against the door, half-disrobed.