"No," Baze says, staggering to the bar with their support. "It's just a cold, Chirrut. I am not otherwise injured, as Ibani said. I don't know why this illness has knocked me on my ass."

Baze is a little perturbed about that, too, though he tries to brush that off, and act nonchalant. He's leaning on his friends, though, so he can't hide.

Baze releases them to shoulder open the door to the bar, and steps inside, holding the door for both of them. "Should we go to our rooms, or drink tea here?"