#imjz

Another day at the market had proved fruitless for Baze and he carried himself home, head ducked as he made his way through the alleys.

He found himself fortunate that there wasn’t any other person along his path, but he held himself wary as the sand at his feet shifted with the wind. Turning a tight corner, Baze stumbled back as a body crashed into his own and a young man gripped onto his robes. Baze tried to shrug him off, but instead the man pulled him into a narrow opening, using Baze’s body to block the way.

“Just pretend you’re kissing me or something,” the man whispered, looking frantically over Baze’s shoulder.

Feeling his eyes widen, Baze managed to sputter out a, “What?”, the sound of yelling then reaching his ears.

“He must’ve gone this way!”

Turning back to the young man, Baze found himself staring into pleading eyes and he groaned as his mind yelled at him to make a decision. Bracing his hands on either side of the man, Baze brought his face in close, enough to obscure the both of them.

“Nothing useful down here,” a voice drifted into the small space.

It wasn’t until the footsteps faded that Baze pulled back, his eyes still on the man. What just happened now was unusual for Baze, but he tried to justify it as best he could.

“Thanks for playing along,” the man breathed out.

Between wanting to shake sense into this man and questioning his actions, Baze instead quelled his tumultuous emotions, shaking his head.

“You do this sort of thing often?”

“Hm?” the man stared up at Baze before blushing. “Oh, sorry I just had to-”

The man tried to shuffle around Baze, but Baze was quicker, capturing his arm and grabbing something from the man.

“Pretty dangerous running around with something like this,” Baze muttered, turning over the piece of contraband in his hand.

“Desperate times,” the man responded in a tone all too familiar to Baze. “It’s their last hope.”

Releasing his grip, Baze shoved the item back into the man’s hand before taking his wrist and leading him to the end of the alley.

“Where do you have to go?” Baze asked, checking the sparse streets for signs of life.

Baze repeated the question when he received no answer, turning to see the man staring at him in confusion. The man answered, slow and unsure, but Baze accepted it, leading the man along.

“I’m Chirrut. Who are you?” The man asked, then stumbling into Baze when he came to a stop.

Shoving the man-Chirrut-behind him, the two stilled as a crowd passed by. Once the streets were empty again, Baze continued the march.

“Baze,” he finally answered.

“Baze,” Chirrut repeated before clearing his throat. “Well then, Baze. Would you mind loosening your grip on my wrist a little?”

Almost immediately, Baze’s hold relaxed and he threw Chirrut an apologetic look. He wasn’t used to towing something, or rather someone, that actually responded to his strength.

“Just keeping you safe,” Baze tried to cover, coughing away the embarrassment that was creeping up his neck.

Chirrut laughed at this, but no more could be exchanged when Baze stopped in front of a dilapidated door. He looked at Chirrut for confirmation and Chirrut nodded.

“Thank you, Baze,” Chirrut grinned, taking his arm back from Baze’s lingering hand. “Your chivalry will not be forgotten. Is there something I give you in return for your troubles?”

Baze shook his head, having enough excitement for the day and wary of what else Chirrut would bring. Lost in his thoughts, Baze jumped when Chirrut pressed a small pendant into his hand, his fingers tracing over Baze’s callouses.

“Find me in the market. We’ll discuss more.”

Chirrut turned quickly, not waiting for Baze’s reply, but Baze found his voice gone in that instant anyways.