He'd heard the three-legged man long before he approached. Usually he was quite good at gauging where people would normally hear someone else coming and act surprised, but he didn't think he had to. The man was... dressed in a garb fitting for that air of mysticism. His reliance on sound to navigate helped Matt out as well as the vibrations in the air painted a crimson picture of the monk out in front of him.
He didn't flinch as Chirrut inspected him, or read his aura, or whatever it was he was doing. But he seemed genuinely intrigued when he got his fortune read. For someone who genuinely couldn't see, that was a good guess of his age.
"I'm-... not sure what you mean," he confessed as he patted lightly across the table until his fingertips found the empty cups and turned them over. There was a very tentative, deliberate moving his fingers across to find the handle of the teapot, the way you might expect any vision-impaired person to be groping around in the dark for something very hot. He'd brought two cups with liquid level indicators, courtesy of their supreme overlords, so he stopped pouring when the cups started beeping at him.