OOM/IM: The Letters

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Baze in possession of tastebuds, must be in want of tea. He ambles up to the bar after morning forms, sweaty and tired but content, his now twice-as-heavy--thanks to Ibani's cortosis core--staff slung across his shoulders. He leans it across the counter, and pats the bar.

Bar provides a cup of tea--oolong and almond--and a datapad.

Curious, Baze picks up the pad and tests the tea, making an appreciative hum at the taste. He reads the first couple of lines.

Then he drops the cup.

He needs to find Chirrut.