[ He has considered leaving Jedha, from time to time. The ghosts of the past haunt the city even after thirty years. Even after most who were alive then have either moved on or died from age, the endless dust, or the Empire's hand strangling their livelihood. They could go somewhere else, but there was nowhere else for them. They survived this long, and for what reason? The Force had not presented them with a reason yet, and so they would wait. There had to be a reason after all, and it would find them here on Jedha, with their ghosts. Here, at least, they have purpose.

Sometimes, when he's feeling particularly romantic, he thinks that Baze's purpose may be to love him entirely and keep him warm in the cold Jedha night. It's selfish and, of course not true. Baze is formidable, and whatever the Force had in mind for the two of them would very likely be their doing as equals, but it's a nice thought. It's also nice to remove his thick, heavy layers to feel Baze's dry, calloused hands against his skin. In better days they were softer, more well cared for, but always with that recognizable strength beneath gentle touch. Not treating him like something fragile (which they both know could not be further from the truth), but like something loved.

With only his under layers remaining, Chirrut's own hand chases Baze's to rest upon it, and he leans to allow his partner better access to his neck. ]

No better or worse than yesterday. A child tried to give me a rock in exchange, and I told her to always look under her feet for true treasure. How long until she realizes I was referring to Home, do you think?