The more Chirrut talked, the more Matt found himself changing his opinion about the other man. He hadn't been the most open-minded since he got here, that was true. But nothing about this place made sense. He didn't know how he'd been extracted, how people he's never met before knew him, how they got dropped into that last monsterland place, how this zen garden popped up. Now he was seated across someone who was sort of like him and maybe - just maybe, he'd have an easier time if he just bought into this zen acceptance bullshit and stopped trying to overanalyse everything. The mild disinterest with which Matthew had initiated their meeting slowly withered, giving way to an undertone of restrained excitement rippling under his skin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he confessed with a small laugh. But as he drank another mouthful of tea, Matt decided it didn't really matter. He understood the role of a guardian, he understood state oppression, and he understood that in a predominantly able-bodied world, disabilities and providing for people who had them tended not to be worth the paperwork, or extra considerations, or additional funding. Maybe that was enough to go on.
"But I'm glad you weren't shot on sight. If you had been, well, where I come from there would have been an uproar."