Her brow draws together at play with hammers, an amused brand of concern that is not made insincere just because he and his injury happen to also be precious. "I'm still amazed you're doing so much of it on your own," she says, her tone devoid of any real heckling. "And so fast. It took me a little while to figure out, you know, tools. But I had a good teacher."

Which is not a thing she elaborates on, even if the ever present urge to ramble tugs at her words. It's still difficult, conversational brushing even peripherally against the people she knew before. Instead;

"So, you think it'll be ready soon?"